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  I cover my face with my hands, unconcerned with my lack of pants, lack of makeup, or my lack of self-control. I cry because he’s here. I cry because there was nothing in the world that I wanted more than for him to come to me, and he came for me.

  “Come here.” Troy pulls me against his body, circling his arms around my shoulders. He kisses the side of my face. “Don’t cry, Miss Gray. You’re breaking my heart.”

  Gripping onto the back of his shirt, I ask, “What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

  “Everyone knows where you live.” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine. “And I had to see you. I’m fucking miserable without you.”

  “What about Alicia?”

  “About Alicia,” he says with a devious smile. Troy guides me inside and kicks the door closed. “She ditched me when I wouldn’t go to her hotel room after the dance. I was a terrible date.”

  “Good,” I whisper.

  He tilts my head up, cradling my face in his hands. “I’m glad you made me go, but I rather it had been with you.”

  I smile. “You can’t take your teacher to prom.”

  He kisses me like it's our first time, careful and sweet, mending my broken spirit with his lips. Troy tastes like beer and cinnamon, and he smells familiar, like my best-kept secret. I'm so much shorter than him without heels on, and he is so damn handsome in a suit.

  "Can I stay?" he asks, holding me tighter in case I say no. “Don’t make me leave.”

  “Only if you don’t judge me for the amount of empty ice cream cartons I have on the kitchen counter.”

  He laughs out loud. “I don’t give a fuck about the kitchen. Where’s the bedroom?”

  Taking his hand, my bare feet pad softly on plush carpet as I lead him to my room. The bed isn't made, and there are clothes on the floor. Troy only has eyes for me. He pushes my hair off my back of my neck, and I tilt my head so he can kiss my pulse point from behind.

  His cock is solid against my lower back, and my nipples harden under my thin cotton shirt.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” I admit. I reach behind and glide my palm around the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t want you.”

  “I never thought that,” he says. “You just needed time to figure it out for yourself.”

  “Don’t push it, Mr. Murillo. I’m still your teacher for another four weeks,” I say, turning in his arms.

  Troy lifts my shirt over my head, dropping it to our feet. It’s the first time he’s seen me so entirely exposed. Until now, he’s only gotten bits and pieces at a time. Snapshots. Hints. This is the whole picture.

  “Will you be my girlfriend in four weeks?” he asks. Troy pulls his tie from his shirt. “We belong together.”

  He unbuckles his pants, while I remove his shirt. Prom king guides me onto the bed, crawling between my legs and holding himself above me. Within these four walls, we’re equals. I’m not his teacher. He’s not a schoolboy.

  We’re never this slow and tender. There’s never been an opportunity to take our time and study each other’s body. I kiss his chest, and he cups my breast. As he pulls my underwear down my legs, he presses his lips to the inside of my ankle, my knee, and my thigh.

  Unlike the desk in my classroom, the mattress is soft under my back. It’s secure under our exploration, and I don’t know if I can be with him in that supply closest again after discovering how wonderful this is.

  Troy’s skin is soft against mine. I rub my feet up and down his legs and brush my fingertips along his spine. I study the way his muscles move and memorize the pattern of freckles across the top of his shoulders.

  I kiss him everywhere.

  I press my lips to the hollow point between his collarbones, and I lick the tip of his chin. My favorite place to taste is the inside of Troy’s elbow, and I find out he’s most ticklish under his knees.

  Straddling his thighs with no clothes between us is unreal. Intimacy is warm, and it’s bone-deep. It's an electric current that smolders where we touch.

  “Stay the night,” I insist. He doesn’t have a choice. I’m going to trap him here, and he’ll be lucky if I ever let him go.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he replies. Troy explores the curve from my lower back to my bottom. He grabs a handful of my soft thighs, and he follows my jawline with the tips of his fingers.

  Then he’s inside of me, and it has never been this majestic. I ride his cock, and we rock the bed.

  I drop my head back and cry out. He doesn’t cover my mouth.

  His bright green eyes darken, focused on my breasts that bounce as I work my hips round and round.

  Usually, we’re fucking fast and hard. Before now, Troy and I are faking bathroom breaks and pulling fire alarms for ten minutes in a closet alone. That was fun, but this is the real deal.

  This was worth the risk.

  Epilogue

  Troy Murillo is such a stud.

  The satin cap and gown turn me on, and I make a note to ask him to wear it later tonight. Preferably, with nothing beneath it.

  Principle Chopra was surprised when I handed in my resignation three weeks ago. She thought I was happy. She thought I was great with the students. She promised to never give me student drop-off duty again if I stayed.

  “I’m going back to school,” I told her.

  She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome to teach here anytime.”

  I thought graduation would be the end of me and Troy. I imagined he’d get his diploma and the small age gap between us would scare him away, leaving me behind while he started the next stage of his life. But he’s taking me with him.

  I enrolled back into college, so we’re both students now. We really are equals.

  Instead of feeling dread as Troy’s name is announced and he walks across the stage to officially end his high school career, I’m excited about our future. Our relationship will confuse a lot of people, and we might get some funny looks from our family and friends. But this finally feels all the way right.

  Troy wants me to officially meet his parents as his girlfriend tonight.

  Of course, I’ve had a conversation with his mom and dad before. Four months ago, Troy was failing my class and I thought they should know their kid was at risk. They asked me what he could do to help his grade. They, like Troy, suggested after-school tutoring and extra credit.

  I don’t think these were the results they expected.

  But he did ace English in the end.

  When the ceremony is over, I give Troy time with his family and friends. He deserves one last uncomplicated moment before they find out about us and the questions start. Troy and I decided no one needs the entire story—we’ll keep the details to ourselves. The should only know Troy Murillo has loved me since thy very first time he saw me. Back when I was a senior and he was a freshman at this very school.

  I enter my classroom for the very last time. The smell of dust and lead will always remind me of this place, and I’m grateful for my time spent molding young minds. I’m grateful it brought me back to Troy because we are the greatest missed connection.

  I walk up and down the aisles between the student’s desks, and I make a note to ask Carlos to swap the teacher’s desk for a new one before my replacement arrives.

  I’m flipping through a copy of Romeo and Juliet when Troy arrives with his diploma in hand like I knew he would. His gown is unzipped, and there’s a look of accomplishment in his eyes.

  He looks down at his watch and says, “As of twenty-three minutes ago, you’re officially not my teacher anymore.”

  “I’m not a teacher at all.” I set the book down. “In fact, we’re probably trespassing right now.”

  Troy laughs out loud. It echoes throughout the empty classroom. “The smallest of our crimes.”

  “Congratulations,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “The orgasms were wonderful, but you really did earn a passing grade on your own.”

  Kissing the top of my head, h
e asks, “You ready to go, Samantha?”

  “Not just yet,” I say, reaching behind him to close the door. I walk over to my desk and sit on the edge of it. His bright green eyes darken. “Before we go, will you call me Miss Gray one more time?”

  Who is Gigi

  Gigi Thorne is a group of USA Today and NYT bestselling authors who came together under one name to write bite-sized romance for the naughty girl.

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