Chapter Five

Anya Sanchez

I was scared shitless, shaking like I was about to be murdered. And Mr. Miller was menacing, staring at me. He could easily have been one of the goons who worked for my father. His assassins, which was what my mother called them in court when most of that cartel were convicted. By Mr. Miller. My teacher.

Damn. What was I doing? How could I buck up to him like this? Was I insane? He just … God, he made me do things I normally wouldn't.

"What I meant was—"

"No, don't take it back if that's what you feel." His warm breath was on my face. When had he gotten so close? And he leaned in more. "If you back down, respect won't be yours."

Every part of me seized up, and my skin rippled with goose bumps. God, Mr. Miller was so damn gorgeous. And tall. He was more than a full head above me, but he was in my face. Close enough to kiss me.

"Because that's what you want, right? My respect?" The question was obscene somehow as if he were asking something else.

And honestly, I'd say yes to anything then. His power took me by the throat, and pushed me to my knees.

"Umm…" I had no voice to express the emotions roiling inside me. Worse, I wasn't even sure what I felt. I didn't know what the emotions were.

He grunted, deep and low, the vibrations moving through my skin, my stomach, my…

"Maybe there is something else you want." His tiger-striped gold and green eyes bored into me.

I dropped my gaze to his lips, perfectly forming into a smirk. I knew what I wanted, and he did too. I wanted to feel those lips on me, exactly where the thrum of pulses moved down my body to between my thighs.

I whimpered, and I had no idea what to do, what to say. And I couldn't make a move, every muscle was held hostage under Mr. Miller's power.

"You know what I want?" The question was low in my ear as if he were millimeters from my lobe, and he nearly was.

"What?" I was breathless, ashamed.

He chuckled, and all the hairs on my body stood. Oh, God. I wanted what he wanted. I needed it.

"You to get out of my office."

With no warning, I was ripped out of the noose tying me to Mr. Miller. And I wanted to slip through the tiles on the floor, wake up from this vivid nightmare.

The door clicked, and I jumped back, inserting as much distance as I could from him. Why couldn't I stop being an idiot around him? I messed up at every turn with him. Would he inevitably fail me now?

I didn't have a chance to weigh my options. There was no time. There was only me running out of Mr. Miller's office down the corridor and not looking back until I reached my car parked on the other side of campus.

When I sat in the driver's seat, I replayed what happened. How could I have gotten things wrong? There was no way he didn't want to kiss me. No way. He was too close—closer than a professor should be to a student. And neither of us backed off. We were there, equal in the insanity drawing us together.

He snapped to reality before I did, obviously. Why else would he kick me out? I gripped my steering wheel. There was no sense in analyzing this. Mr. Miller was off limits for more than one reason. Both were bad. His lips, though, his eyes… I leaned back in my seat and let my hands fall from the steering wheel. What if things went differently? What if we kissed? Would there be more? I'd never done more than a kiss, but the beat deep inside me wouldn't let up.

In frustration, I adjusted in the hot seat, feeling the impulse of bad decisions flaring up within. My windows were tinted, and the next class had started. No one was around.

In a capricious move, I launched myself with some finesse over into the back seat, lay supine, and lifted my knees, my maxi skirt falling to my hips. I drew in a breath and closed my eyes, Mr. Miller's face front and center. But it wasn't just his face, it was his feeling, his smell, and the way his body manipulated the energy in the room. And I felt it all. To quell the ache, I slipped my hand under the elastic of my panties and moved my fingers down.

I found a pace right away, it was there waiting to be explored. And I could only imagine what Mr. Miller would feel like if it were him pleasuring me and not my own hand. Moaning and whimpering, the weight of desire came over me, and I succumbed to it.

"Mr. Miller," I cried out and let myself fall completely.

When it was over, I couldn't catch my breath until I was upright and shoving my wild, sticky hair behind my ears. And then the reality of what I did came, and shame radiated through me. Damn. What was I doing?

And was I wrong to still want him to make me reach the pinnacle of pleasure I'd only heard about? I still wanted him to make me orgasm despite every reason why he should not.

In the midst of my thoughts, my cell phone trilled with a notification. An email, I could tell by the melodic bells. I reached my hand into my bag and pulled out the phone.

The message was from Mr. Miller. He'd graded our pop quizzes from that morning. Heart racing, I opened the document. There on top was my grade in red, bold font: C-

What the hell? I looked closer, zooming in with my fingertips. Yes, it was true. He gave me a C-minus. And I was irate. He wasn't going to get away with this. He'd screwed me over one time too many.

I maneuvered back into the front seat and grabbed my backpack. He was still in his office, and I was going to let him know exactly what I thought about his unfair grade.