I stop in front of our hotel room door, swallowing as I sigh loudly.
“I don’t want to go back,” I whisper. “To New York.”
He brushes a piece of hair out of my eyes and tugs my chin up for a kiss with his rough fingers.
“I know. But I’m not your teacher anymore, remember? So maybe we get through the rest of the school year, lay low, and wait for the summer. At least I won’t have to see you in class every day.” He kisses me again. “I don’t know what else to do. By dating you, I could get fired. No one can know besides Felicity.”
I nod. “Until I graduate.”
“Can you do that?” he asks, brushing the skin underneath my jaw.
“I can try,” I whisper back, standing on my tip toes.
And then he pulls away and takes my hand as we enter the hotel room.
Epilogue, Part One
Wren
* * *
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Cooper?” I ask innocently, my hand on the door frame of the all-too-familiar classroom. I’m wearing exactly what he asked me to—the dress from the night he dragged me out of the club in Prague. It’s against dress code, so it’s a good thing it’s Friday night and no one is around.
“Please come inside and close the door behind you, Ms. Chambers.”
I smirk, but do as he said, snicking the door shut and sauntering over to his desk. He’s wearing exactly what I asked him to—a white button-up, black slacks, a grey tie, and black leather shoes with a matching leather belt. My eyes graze over his corded forearms where he’s rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. I cross my arms and cock my head in anticipation.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, letting my hair fall over my shoulder.
“I think you know what the problem is, Wren. You’re…” he pauses, sneaking a glance at the clock behind me, “three minutes early.”
I try not to smile. “I guess I learned my lesson, after all.”
His answering, low growl makes my knees weak. “Why is it that you’re three minutes early to this class, but three minutes late to actual class, Wren?”
I burst out laughing. “I think you’re actually butt hurt about that, aren’t you?” His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. He’s a much better actor than me. “I guess I was eager to get disciplined by my angry teacher.” I shrug. “Before, I was with Mr. Harris, and—”
“That’s enough,” he commands, standing.
Like most days, his presence gets my attention, but today especially, in his teaching uniform. Plus, even though we’ve been secretly dating for nearly six months, we’ve yet to fool around at school. It wasn’t worth the risk. But as of today—as of my last class, five hours ago—I’m no longer a student at Regent Charter School.
His nostrils are flared as he shoves the papers off his desk and waits impatiently. I don’t even think he’s acting anymore. He’s never been keen on the idea of sharing me, and I know even mentioning Taylor’s name probably set him off. I twist my lips to the side and wait for him to make the first move.
He places both of his large hands flat on the desk and looks up at me expectantly, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Did you want me to bend over or something? Because if not, I could always go find Taylor—”
He rushes around the desk and slams his lips against mine, his tongue claiming me as he moans. Lifting me up, he sets me on the table and stands back as I prop myself up on my elbows. I grin as I spread my legs, and his eyes flick down, narrowing and darkening when they see I’m completely bare before him.
“Fuck,” he rasps.
Untying his tie, he pulls it through his collar and discards it on the floor, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. I can see the large bulge in his tight pants, and how it strains against the thick material. I spread my legs wider, and Blake audibly gasps before unzipping and freeing his cock. Panting, I lower my hand, inserting one finger into myself. His eyes blaze as I begin fucking myself before him, and he moves his hand along his shaft.
“Can we stop playing now?” he asks, his voice desperate. “I just want to fuck my girlfriend.”
I smile as I increase my tempo. “But it’s so much fun.”
He snarls and climbs on top of me, kissing me as he takes both of my hands and holds them above my head. Looking down, he pushes against my opening, and then he looks into my eyes as he thrusts inside. I cry out, feeling myself clench around him.
“You never stop feeling so damn good, Wren,” he says roughly, kissing my neck. “So damn good.”
I moan and arch my back as he fucks me, as he claims me, as he makes love to me. Because at one point, he looks down and meets my gaze, and something potent—something powerful—moves behind his eyes. He kisses me and doesn’t pull away until we’re both coming, my nails digging into his back. One of his hands fists my hair gently, and then his mouth trails kisses along my collarbone.
He doesn’t pull out, though. He just looks at me, completely open, completely vulnerable. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but we know we want to be together. I like myself when I’m with him, and he makes me want to be a better person. So, as he begins to thrust into me again, as I feel him harden inside of me—I let him kiss me. I let myself feel his soft hair and run my fingers along his muscled back. And a few minutes later, we both climax again—together. It’s less raw, less heady, but it feels so full of promise. Being with him feels so full of promise.
After he cleans me up, we go back to his house, and he makes me a delicious late-night grilled cheese. We talk about history, and he tucks me into bed. I barely have enough energy to say goodnight as I doze off in his warm, strong arms.
Epilogue, Part Two
Blake
* * *
I clap slowly as the students process to the front of the stage, feeling every emotion under the sun. One, that my baby girl is a high school graduate, set to attend Lehman College in the Bronx, graduating Magna Cum Laude. And two, my girlfriend—which is still strange to say—walking down the stage like she owns the place, headed to NYU for a degree in History.
My girlfriend, Wren Chambers.
My ex-student.
My daughter’s best friend.
There were so many things stacked against us—so many obstacles to overcome. For one, keeping it all a secret. Only Felicity knows, and she’s been nothing but supportive. I credit her mom, my ex, and her unconventional outlook on love that she instilled in Felicity. Love is love is love.
Second, we really had to make a concerted effort not to interact on campus. It felt wrong to me, and it would’ve been easy to break the rules so many times. But we only ever broke the rules once—last night, to be exact. On my desk, in her old classroom.
Twice.
But I digress.
We’ve done a good job keeping it from the administration. In the fall, we plan to go “public,” with our relationship. I’ve scoured the rules, and if she’s an adult, if she’s no longer a student at Regent, we’re not technically breaking any.
For me, the weirdest part is how not weird it all feels. Maybe because I’ve known her for so long, or maybe because we spent so much time together before, but it just feels normal. We don’t bicker anymore, and the things that used to irritate me about her are now the things I love the most about her.