Page 41 of The Headmaster’s Rule

She smiles as she approaches, and warmth pools in my chest. Behind her, Paige Mercer, and Rowan Winslow, head of art, enter the faculty lounge, chatting as they head to the kitchen to make coffee. Rowan, as always, wears what he likes; faded jeans, sleeves shoved up to reveal the edges of his tattoos, a well-worn leather cord disappearing beneath his Henley, long hair pulled back. I’ve long since stopped expecting him to look the part. He gets away with it because he’s an excellent teacher. One of his students from a few years back even went on to become a prominent artist in the city. With results like that—results that make Wetherly look good—I can forgive his casual attire. Most of the time.

Eleanor hesitates, hovering before setting her bags on the chair opposite me. Her tentativeness makes something curl and tighten inside me, but I let it. This is how it should be. Distance is necessary.

She goes to fetch a coffee and I force my gaze out the window, not letting it follow her. I listen as she chats to Paige and Rowan, talking about the summer camp she wants to run. She says something about how it could be a great extension of Safe Harbor to bridge the summer months, and Paige and Rowan listen intently. In spite of myself, I smile at her passion and enthusiasm for this project. For everything she does.

“Hi,” she murmurs, suddenly beside me. My pulse quickens, and I curse myself for how easily she affects me.

“Miss Hart.” I’m trying for formal, but it sounds wrong. She’s not Miss Hart anymore, as much as she should be. Besides, I’m the one who told her we could do away with the formalities, which was possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Because the way my name sounded on her lips…

It nearly undid me.

Her brow dips in a frown, which I do my best to ignore. I slide my glasses on as I open my laptop, pretending I don’t feel her gaze on the side of my face. She sighs, pulling out her binder, and we get to work.

But an hour later, I’m restless. She’s doing exactly what she should, focusing on the fundraiser, sitting a respectable distance away, not mentioning the charged moment between us last night…

And I can’t stand it.

I glance up from my laptop, letting my gaze rest on her. Her pretty face is creased in concentration, and I scrape a hand across my chin, over the two-day stubble there. Between the break-in and waking early to install the cameras, I haven’t taken the time to shave. Yet another sign I’m losing my grip.

Eleanor’s gaze flies to my face, eyes tracking the movement of my hand over my jaw. I do it again, slower, and heat flares in her eyes. Her mouth opens slightly, pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, and I can only wonder what it would be like to suck that bottom lip into my mouth. My pants tighten, cock growing heavy at the thought.

Fuck.

I catch myself, tearing my gaze away. The faculty lounge is surprisingly quiet, the evening sun slipping toward the horizon, casting the room in an otherworldly glow. Besides the quiet hum of the dishwasher, the sound of a vacuum cleaner along the hall, we’re alone.

This is the last thing I need.

“I’m going to check the security cameras,” I say, rising abruptly.

She startles, looking up at me. “Okay. Actually… I’ll come. We can swing past the garden area so I can show you what I have in mind.”

I grind my molars.

Tell her no.

But I can’t.

“Fine.” I nod tightly. “You can talk while we walk.”

She stands, stretching after hunching over her binder on these awful chairs. I watch the graceful line of her neck as she reaches her arms overhead. The way her dress rises above her knees, exposing the soft, creamy skin of her thighs.

Urgency floods my system, and I spin on my heel, marching from the room. Eleanor has distracted me long enough. I need to remember what is most important, and that’s keeping the school safe.

She scrambles after me, but I continue at the same quick pace, maintaining the distance between us. I need to check the cameras in the back parking lot, to scan the perimeter.

I need to find a way to take back control.

“So, the garden,” Eleanor begins, her voice drifting over my shoulder as she follows me out the main building and across the quad. “It’s an important part of Safe Harbor. I was thinking we could…”

We reach the parking lot, and I glance at the newly installed camera mount, avoiding her gaze completely. Everything seems to be in order here, so I continue around behind the gym, scanning the shadows emerging as the sun fades, looking for unfamiliar shapes.

“There’s something about dirt under your fingernails that’s grounding,” Eleanor continues as we walk. “I think that will really benefit these kids.”

I grunt noncommittally as we approach the maintenance shed, pausing to assess Mason’s repairs. He’s already installed new doors with a much sturdier lock, and an extra security camera blinks at us from overhead. I knew I could count on Mason to get this place sorted after the break-in. He’s a little rough around the edges, but reliable and good at his job. I should get him to check the locks on Juliana’s cottage, too.

I move on from the maintenance shed, Eleanor’s voice continuing in my ear.

“This is the spot,” she says behind me, and I glance over my shoulder, unsure what she’s referring to. She releases a quiet laugh. “You’re not really here, are you?”