A surprised bark of laughter escapes his full lips. The deep timbre of his laugh gives me goosebumps. If orgasms were a sound, they would be his laugh. It's rich, decadent…delicious. Amusement softens his severe expression. Humor dances in his onyx eyes and across his lips. They curve up into a panty-melting smile that does absolutely nothing to help me salvage my dignity.
"Thoctor Dorne, huh?" One dark brow tics upward. His lips twitch with repressed mirth. He's teasing me.
It helps settle me. A little. Clearly, I shouldn't be in charge of anything that requires actual brainpower today. Scraping together the tattered remains of my dignity and forging them into something resembling coherence, I offer him a tight smile, hoping he's not as much of a hard ass as he appears. "What I meant to say was, I'm so sorry for running into you, Doctor Thorne. I was distracted."
"As was I, Miss…"
"Rowan Lassiter," I supply.
A brief flare of recognition lights his eyes as soon as I say my name. My insides smash together, twisting with anxiety. I think my soul shivers. What the heck did I do that landed me on the superintendent's radar? I frantically think back but can't recall anything that bad.
I did tell Cadence Grayson that Johnson is a dick, but I doubt she ratted me out. I don't know her very well yet, but I don't think she likes our principal very much either. And it's not really slander if it's true…right?
Crap. Maybe he's here about my impromptu science lesson in the courtyard last week? Johnson was out sick, so I didn't think he knew. And it wasn't like we were out there for long. It was hot in the classroom. We just…regrouped to more habitable climates while maintenance fixed the air.
"Before you let Johnson fire me, I can explain."
He blinks those ridiculously long lashes. "You think I came to give Johnson permission to fire you?"
"Yes?"
He narrows his eyes.
"No?"
His lips twitch. I'm pretty sure I'm amusing him again.
"Can we just go back in time like five minutes and pretend none of this"—I fling my hands out to indicate the shitshow I'm currently writing, directing and starring in, almost smacking him in the chest in the process—"actually happened?"
"No."
I had a feeling he was going to say that. I sigh heavily, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. "Okay then. If you didn't come to give him permission to fire me…why are you here?" I tip my head way back to look up at him. "And why am I?"
"We'll get to that. Why do you think Johnson wants to fire you?"
He seems really stuck on this subject. "He hates me," I say with a shrug and then feel bad about it. "Okay, hate is probably a strong word. It's more like he…has a strong aversion to me."
Dr. Thorne's brows fly together, a severe scowl transforming him back into the formidable—yet wickedly hot—man he was two minutes ago. I am clearly not helping my case any at all here.
Jesus, girl. Get your life together.
"To be fair, he feels that way about a lot of people," I add…like that's going to help me. Judging by the way his scowl deepens, I'm just making things worse. Why can't I just stop talking? What is this man doing to me?
My verbal filter usually functions just fine. I think he broke it. Maybe I'm concussed.
"I'm going to stop talking now," I whisper, clamping my jaws shut.
"Two things," he says, finally dropping his arms back to his side. He takes a step toward me, putting him right up in my bubble. I see him raise his hand two seconds before he tucks it under my chin, forcing me to look at him. He's grim-faced and pissed off. "One," he continues, releasing my chin once I'm looking at him, "Johnson isn't firing anyone."
"That's good then," I whisper.
"Two, I need to see you first thing in the morning."
"Are you firing me?"
His lips twitch. "No."
The bell rings over the loudspeakers. A few seconds later, the sound of two hundred little voices and the thunder of their rushing steps sound down the long hall. There are no classrooms on this side of the building, but there is no drowning out that many voices.
Dr. Thorne and I watch each other, both silent, as the kids rush to class. I try not to focus on how attractive I find him, but it's almost possible to ignore the fact that my nipples are still hard little points. It's also impossible not to think about the fact that he was definitely hard a few minutes ago. It's even harder not to wonder if that was because of me. To hope it was.
Eventually, the sounds fade. The silence grows, morphing into something else. His gaze drops to my lips and then lower, traveling slowly down my body. His eyes heat and darken as if he likes what he sees. Maybe we're not leagues apart? Maybe T-ball is more his speed than I thought?
"Erm…two good things then. Awesome," I say, desperate to cut off that line of thought sooner rather than later. It leads nowhere good. He's my boss, with infinitely more authority than Johnson has. Crushing on him has bad idea painted all over it.
"You like good news." He flashes another panty-melting smile that has me fidgeting where I stand.
"Does anyone dislike good news?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nipples. And also to discreetly pinch myself on the arm to keep myself focused.
"Good point." His brows furrow. "Shit. I have a bad thing."
I knew it! There's no way I was called to the office for strictly good news. I'm not that lucky.
"I'm not fired?" I ask again…just to make sure he isn't lulling me into a false sense of complacency before he pounces. He doesn't seem like the kind of man who would do something like that, but he also doesn't look like a man who wouldn't do something like that.
Why is he so devilishly handsome? Jesus.
I pinch myself again.
"No one is firing you," he growls.
Whoa. I like that sound. It reminds me of the way the ground rumbles from deep, deep down right before the tremors of an earthquake start. That probably shouldn't be attractive, but it is coming from him. It's…elemental. Primal.
"I guess you can tell me the bad stuff then."