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If a casual hookup is all he wanted, he should’ve just said that.

He didn’t have to play the long con.

This isn’t some Thomas Crown Affair motorcycle gang edition!

This is real life!

I am a real person!

A real adult person who could’ve – probably – dealt with a random one-night hookup had he merely been up front about it from the beginning.

But he wasn’t.

He played stupid games because that’s what children do.

They play stupid games without concern to who they may hurt or how much or what a very judgmental, twenty-pound miniature lion might have to say.

And he has so much to say.

He always has so much to say.

“Hey, Teach,” Hogan warmly greets during his stroll against the small crowd.

“Emaline,” I politely correct at the same time I move to the farthest end of the desk, wanting – needing – to create distance, “or Miss Owens is fine too.”

He presses his lips together yet doesn’t argue.

Doesn’t correct himself either.

“Sorry I missed most of class today.”

“You missed all of class, Mr. Laekeman.”

“Hogan,” he practically growls from the opposite end of the furniture.

I prefer H.

I preferred H.

Past tense.

Professional teacher panties back on.

Although, if I were to be totally honest, I did pick a lacy, purple pair with him in mind.

Which is fucking insane.

Especially since it was a one night now it’s over thing.

“And not all,” the tatted male in the leather vest declares upon sliding his hands into his jean pockets. “I caught the assignment examples.”

Fuckme, I wish he hadn’t.

I did not mean to make myself that transparent.

An irresistible smirk slides onto his face. “You know you look good in and out of all the layers, right, Teach?”

Not squeezing my thighs together to suppress the ache his voice and words cause is impossible. “Emaline.” Tugging unnecessarily at my sweater precedes me repeating, “Or Miss Owens.”