Killian’s text caught me off guard. He’d only sent a couple of texts the entire week. I hadn’t contacted him because the guilt of what I was doing continued to gnaw at my gut and make me want to hide my head under my desk whenever Mr. Thayer came into the office.

“Morning, Rachel,” Mr. Thayer said, breezing into his office. How could anyone hate him? Let alone hate him enough to try to destroy all the good work he did? How terrible was it that I couldn’t even help him the way he deserved? I was caught in a web and I didn’t know how to escape.

“Good morning, Mr. Thayer,” I said, following him into his office. The wrap around floor-to-ceiling windows let all the early morning sun into the office, making it even brighter than usual. Everything was glass and earth tones, which made the room feel like an extension of the outside.

“Rachel.” He stopped at his desk, laying his jacket over the arm of his chair. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rhys? When you call me Mr. Thayer it makes me think of my dad. Just call me Rhys.”

“Of course, Mr.— Rhys,” I corrected myself, flustered that no matter how many times he told me not to, I still slipped back into Mr. mode. I stood with my tablet ready, and rattled off the meetings he had scheduled for today. When I finished, he was turned in his chair, staring out over the city.

“Were you able to find out anything, Rachel? Anything about the elections?” He swiveled around in his chair, his eyes so sad the pain thudded me right in the chest. He didn’t deserve this. I’d have to talk to Killian. Find out why. I shook my head.

“No, Rhys. I know it’s Killian Thorne, but other than that I haven’t been able to get any more information. I can stop digging, maybe search in a new direction. Maybe try to get more from the board members,” I said, hoping my pounding heart couldn’t be heard halfway across the room. Please give me this out. Make it easier for me to walk away.

“No, it’s okay. Keep exploring what’s going on with Killian,” he said, letting out a deep breath. My shoulders slumped, my out snatched away from me. I’m sure he didn’t mean the kind of ‘exploring’ I’d been doing with Killian.

“We used to be best friends,” he said distractedly, staring at the picture of Esme he had on his desk. That perked my ears up.

“You were?”

“Yup. The first two years of high school. His dad worked for my parents. I was a boarder at the school, but he was bussed in from not too far away.”

I was sitting in the seat in front of his desk before I even realized what I was doing. I needed to hear this. To find out just what the hell happened. I guess he took my sitting as a cue to keep going because he laid it all out.

“He grew up with my late wife and…and some other people from his neighborhood. My parents ran a scholarship program and Killian and Beth were both scholarship recipients and that is how they were able to attend. I lived on campus, so I was there almost year around.” He shook his head like he was trying to banish bad memories.

“There was an issue with Killian’s dad one summer, the summer my parents died. He was arrested and it changed Killian. I never looked into what it was. I was dealing with the fallout from my parents dying. He’d never wanted me getting involved with his life at home, so I respected that. When he came back, after that summer, he was different. Angrier. Rage poured off him wherever he went.” I could feel that, although it didn’t seem like it boiled over anymore. It was more like a slow simmer trapped under a glacier’s worth of ice.

“Did his dad end up going to jail?” I said, gripping onto my tablet to keep my hands from shaking. Was that what was going on? His dad was in jail? Was he still in jail? How did I even ask him about this?

“I guess, but he wasn’t even close to his dad. From everything I’d ever heard from him, he hated his dad. Something happened and I’ve never been able to find out what, and now with these board challenges—” He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw. “Just do whatever you can, Rachel. I really appreciate it.” He went back to his computer and I took that as my cue to leave.

Why was Killian after Rhys? What happened when they were in school together? Did it have anything to do with what was going on now? A decade and a half later, was he still trying to get back at Rhys for what happened back in high school?

I paced my apartment, antsy from the minute the wheels touched down to get home. While I tried to convince myself that I wanted to be back in my own city, in my own place, and away from my dad—all true—another part of me knew why I wanted to be back in the city. Her frizzy curls and ridiculous glasses danced in my mind and captivated me like no one else.

I checked my watch again. There was a knock at the door. I wrenched it open, faster than I should have. She stood in front of me, her bag slung over her shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You’re late.” I moved out of the doorway a little, but not enough that she wouldn’t have to touch me to get by. She was flustered. I liked her flustered and off balance, like she made me.

“Sorry, I’m really sorry. I missed my train and the next two were packed,” she said, sliding past me, trying to get by without touching me. That wouldn’t do.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” I said, fingering her curls. “You’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.” A tremble traveled through her and I bit back my smile.

“What did you have in mind?” she said, her eyes big and wide behind her lenses.

“Strip.” I stepped back, closing the door behind her.

“What?” Her mouth worked a mile a minute as she tried to form that single word. But I saw it in her eyes. The fire that flared up whenever she thought of doing something naughty with me.

“Strip for me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the door.

“Okay.” She dropped her bag to the floor and started hastily unbuttoning her clothes.

“I didn’t say undress like you’ve got a tick on you. I said strip. Here, I’ll make it easier.” I grabbed my phone and found the perfect song. It came piping through the speakers that ran throughout the apartment. She glanced up at the ceiling, looking for the source of the pounding, seductive beat.

“That doesn’t make it easier. I don’t know how to strip,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip. I wanted to take it into my mouth and suck on it, teasing her like her fidgeting presence did for me.

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city.

“Someone might see.”

“Then they are going to be a jealous SOB because I don’t share.” I crossed to the leather arm chair in the living room. She followed me over, dragging her bag along the floor. I’d have laughed if I didn’t have a raging hard on that made it difficult to think, let alone laugh. I still wasn’t sure if she’d even do it. It was a test of sorts. Whenever she was with me, she seemed to loosen up a bit. Less worried about who she was supposed to be, and more focused on what I wanted. A distraction from the world out there. I might be a passing fancy to her, but I’d milk that for all I could.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, letting go of the strap of her bag. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and my cock pressed harder against my zipper. Her eyes opened and my naughty girl was back.

Perfection.