The first time we met, James Dumont knocked me off my feet.
He’s sexy and smart, the classic good guy…. Exactly what I want, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of. The most perfect guy at Somerset High School.
He even makes sixth-period Geography interesting.
Everyone says high school is tough. Fighting my attraction to James? That’s the hardest part, because this guy, my perfect match, the one who makes my heart overrule my head…
He’s my teacher.
What if the greatest lesson you could learn in school couldn’t be found in a book?
I fumble with the keycard, finally putting it into the slot on the third attempt. His voice stops me before I close my door.
“Britta?”
“Yeah?”
He runs another hand through his hair and looks up at me. “This sounds extremely cheesy but can I get your phone number? I’d like to see you tomorrow if it’s possible.”
A smile crawls across my face. Jutting the latch for the door out so I don’t get locked out, I walk over to him as he holds out his phone to me. Quickly entering my information into it for him, I smile and hand it back.
“Give me a call sometime,” I say, walking backward to my propped open door.
James looks down at his phone and smirks. “I like the smiley face after your name.”
“Goodnight, James.”
“Goodnight, Britta.”
I close the door behind me and secure it, just in case he’s used his charm and somehow got a key to my room as well. It wouldn’t shock me if he did. My fingers trace my lips; his kiss still lingering there makes me smile wider.
As I’m unpacking my suitcase, my phone beeps in my purse. Knowing who it is, I quickly swipe at the screen.
HI.
Hi? I give him my phone number and all he types is hi? What the hell?
Another message comes through, this time making me laugh.
SORRY, THAT WAS LAME.
I settle against the headboard of my bed, barely noticing how comfortable I am in having this conversation with my former teacher. Can I call him a former teacher? Don’t think, just feel I tell myself.
YOU’RE REALLY BAD AT THIS YOU KNOW.
His response is almost immediate.
I’M NERVOUS.
SERIOUSLY? YOU’RE 22. YOU SHOULD BE OVER THAT.
IT’S NOT MY AGE. IT’S YOU THAT MAKES ME NERVOUS.
ME?
I LIKE YOU.
Whoa. That’s probably the first time he’s ever directly said anything like that to me. Yes, we’ve been dancing around it, saying we feel something toward each other but nothing this direct, at least not that I can remember saying out loud. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I type my reply.
I LIKE YOU TOO.
HOW MUCH?
A LOT.
CAN I KISS YOU AGAIN?
YOU DON’T HAVE TO ASK. YOU CAN JUST KISS ME.
There’s a knock on my door and I smirk, knowing who’s going to be on the other side. I open the door wide and am greeted by his hands cradling my face. His warm breath beats on my lips followed by the gentle brush of his mouth against mine. He steals my breath on a gasp and I succumb to the kiss, grabbing his biceps to keep him close. His fingers thread through my hair as his tongue explores my mouth, gently probing inside with slow, deep licks.
This kiss consumes me, igniting a fire within that cannot be extinguished. It’s everything I want from a kiss and more because it’s from him. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest and I fight the urge to drag him into my room.
We slowly pull away, keeping each other in our sight. With a gentle brush of his lips against my nose, he smiles and backs away.
“That is a proper goodnight,” he says, swiping his key in the lock.
“Uh huh,” is all I can say. He’s kissed me speechless, which is quite the feat I must say. I’m always the girl who knows what to say and when to say it. But as this beautiful man stands across the hall, looking at me as if I’m the only person in the world, all my words are gone. Nothing is left. The only thing that remains is him.
“Goodnight, Britta. Get some sleep.”
“Uh huh.”
I’m left with his quiet laugh as his door shuts and latches, leaving me standing in the doorway in a stupor. He just kissed me to within an inch of my life and then left me to dwell on it. Turning back into my room, my head fuzzy and dazed, I lie on my bed and stare at the white ceiling above me.
He likes me.
I like him.
He kissed me.
He’s the best kisser I’ve ever kissed.
This is bad.
I’m so fucked.
Jodie Larson is a wife and mother to four beautiful girls, making their home in northern Minnesota along the shore of Lake Superior. When she isn’t running around to various activities or working her regular job, you can find her sitting in her favorite spot reading her new favorite book or camped out somewhere quiet trying to write her next manuscript. She’s addicted to reading (just ask her kids or husband) and loves talking books even more so with her friends. She’s also a lover of all things romance and happily ever afters, whether in movies or in books, as shown in her extensive collection of both.
Other books written by Jodie Larson:
Fated to be Yours
Fated to be Mine
