GirlMostLikelyTo (7 page)

Tomas’ seemingly unconscious action of dragging his fingers
down his cheek to rub his jaw made Adam’s stomach clench, remembering those
fingers touching him. Living next to this guy for three weeks would drive him
insane whether they had sex or not. Adam had been magnetically attracted to
Caspar, but knowing his PA didn’t swing that way had tempered his libido to a
manageable level. Tomas might have changed his mind yesterday but that kiss
that been real. Tomas had wanted him. He still wanted Tomas. He also wanted to
teach him a lesson. At the moment,
that
need was stronger.

He nodded toward the washrooms and watched Tomas swallow
hard. Adam let him go in first, scanned to make sure it was empty then
bulldozed him into the end stall. He locked it and hung his computer bag on the
hook.

“It wasn’t that—” Tomas said.

Adam shut him up with a bruising kiss and slammed his long
body against Tomas’, pushing him against the wall as he thrust his tongue into
his mouth. This was supposed to be more about getting his own back than
pleasure, but at the taste of beer on Tomas’ lips, his fierce determination to
get even turned to slush.
Shit, shit, shit.

Tomas groaned and snaked his hands under Adam’s coat around
his back, pressing his fingers into his spine. Lust pooled in his gut and as
their hips ground together, he clung to one last thread of awareness that he
needed to listen for interruptions. He couldn’t risk anyone hearing them,
finding them, seeing them. Adult or teenager. But it was hard to think when
electricity zapped from head to toe like forked lightning, when his cock felt
swollen enough to burst, when the need to come built like a geyser inside him.

They kissed, tongues sliding together as they ate at each
other.

Enough
, he told himself. He’d made his point. Yet he
tugged Tomas’ shirt from his pants, slid a hand over rock-hard abs up to his
nipple and twisted hard. Tomas’ knees sagged and his hands fell to settle on
Adam’s butt.

Tongues twisted, teased and mated as hands squeezed and hips
rutted. They panted into each other’s mouths while Adam’s heart rate raced off
the scale.
More
, shouted his cock. But when Tomas yanked at Adam’s
zipper, he grabbed his wrists to stop him. It wouldn’t take much for Adam to
come and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He yanked Tomas’ hands over his
head, securing them against the wall in the way Tomas had held him yesterday.

Tomas struggled, but halfheartedly. Adam wasn’t sure whether
he—they froze at the sound of a door opening and pulled back to stare into each
other’s eyes. A rasp of a zipper followed by the splash of piss hitting a
urinal. It went on and on. And on. Adam raised his eyebrows and Tomas’ mouth
quirked in a grin. They were both at the point of laughter when there was a
long sigh from the other side of the door and the sound of the zipper going
back up. The main door opened and closed again and they breathed out.

“Didn’t wash hands,” Tomas whispered and Adam sniggered.

He kept one hand around Tomas’ wrists and dropped the other
to the guy’s jeans to push open the button. A tug lowered the zipper and Tomas
hissed as his cock found its own way through his boxers into Adam’s hand.

Adam’s fingers shook. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

Tomas nodded and Adam rewarded him with a kiss, a light
brush of his lips, a slide of his tongue along the seam of a hot mouth while he
unfastened the buttons of the guy’s shirt and spread it open.

Far enough
, said his brain, but most of Adam wasn’t
listening. He dropped his head and licked the tight bud of Tomas’ nipple,
circling it, fluttering his tongue over it until the man’s breathing grew
ragged. He tugged at the waist of Tomas’ jeans and yanked them and his boxers
down until they bunched on the ground.

His cock jutted out, the uncut head shiny with pre-cum.
He’s
shaved. Christ.
He was big as well. Adam wrapped his hand around him and
squeezed the long, thick cock, suddenly desperate to suck him off, taste him,
eat him, swallow his cum. Tomas’ fingers threaded his hair, then cupped his
neck and they were kissing again.

Think, think, think. Before I lose control of my hips, my
cock, my mouth.

Someone else came into the bathroom and they broke apart
once more.
That might just have saved me.
The same sequence of sounds,
but this time the tap was turned on. When the door closed, he trailed a finger
up the length of Tomas’ cock and swept it over the head to scoop up a silky
pearl of moisture. His own cock pressed harder against his zipper. He lifted
his finger to his mouth and licked it. Tomas didn’t blink but need was written
all over his face.

Adam wavered. He thought about staying to finish this but
shook off temptation. He wouldn’t change his mind. He slid his hand to the
latch on the door behind him, flipped it open and grabbed his bag.

“Now we’re even,” he said with a grin and slipped out.

“Oh fuck.” Tomas let out a long groan.

The stall door slammed closed, the lock engaged, but Adam
heard the faint sound of a chuckle and the whisper of, “Game on.”

He smiled, then gave himself a mental kick because he
suspected Tomas was going to stay and sort out the problem he’d given him while
he had to try to disguise the bulge at the front of his pants. He consulted the
timetable he’d been given and after fastening the buttons of his coat, headed
for Wren’s classroom.

Chapter Seven

Wren tried to keep her attention fixed on the window at the
back of the classroom but it was as if she had a couple of elephants in there.
Though chest-thumping gorillas might be a better fit. Adam and Tomas sat on
either side of the room, as far from each other as they could get, and despite
her best efforts, her gaze kept sliding from one to the other.

Adam still had his coat on and fastened as if he intended to
make a quick getaway, and Tomas had rushed in late looking hot and flustered,
and he
still
looked flustered. Every few seconds he glared at Adam, who
answered with a smirk.
What’s that about?
She dragged her attention to
the center of the room and spoke in Italian to her twelve students.

This Italian for Travelers class was a continuation, the
third of four three-week terms. She’d taken over for a colleague on maternity
leave. Wren thought it was crazy to call something a term that lasted only a
few weeks, and even more crazy that not all the terms coincided, but Olive had
her own particular way of running things and it was wiser to toe the line than
object. Besides, Wren had been happy to grab the class, thrilled to have adults
to teach, though that was before the African wildlife had joined the group.

She made everyone chuckle with her collection of odd but
true demands made by hotel guests. Now the students knew she could make things
fun, the lesson would flow. One by one, she asked them to make up a request to
do with a stay in a hotel and eventually only Tomas and Adam remained.

Tomas leaned back and crossed his hands behind his head. “
Sembra
che vi sia un corpo morto nel mio letto. Si prega di cambiare le lenzuola.
”
His Italian was perfect.

Everyone but Adam sniggered. Tomas had said—there appears to
be a dead body in my bed. Please change the sheets.

“
Molto bene
,” Wren said.

After Adam had stuttered and stumbled his way through, “
Acqua
minerale naturale con latte, per favore
,” she realized why he’d not
laughed. He hadn’t understood what Tomas said.

Adam shrugged, gave a rueful grin and she couldn’t help but
smile back.

“
Acqua minerale naturale e latte
, unless you actually
want milk in your water,” she said.

He winced.

She couldn’t afford to spend time explaining everything to
him when the rest of the group was miles ahead. Clearly a beginner, he was in
the wrong class. Maybe she could offer to give him private lessons. Heat
flooded her cheeks. Of course, she’d have to plead with him not to tell Olive
or she’d get the sack.

While Adam had understood very little of what she said, it
became clear Tomas’ Italian was as good as hers. So why was he in this class?
Whenever he spoke to her, he stared at her so intently, she kept losing her
train of thought. There always seemed to be something suggestive in his words.
Flirting
with me?
It was a minor miracle she managed to conduct a coherent lesson
when her brain raced around like an overexcited puppy. She didn’t even tell
Tomas off when he obviously checked a phone text in the middle of the lesson.

What were the two of them up to? Maybe Tomas was only
interested in her because she hadn’t fallen at his feet like Monique. Maybe
Adam thought he could get more than language lessons on his break from work.
They were both trouble and Wren didn’t need trouble.

But she was tempted.
Oh damn, am I tempted.

The moment the lesson ended, instead of lingering in case
there were questions, she bolted, clattering down the stairs to the office.

Jolene glared when she burst in. “Forgotten how to knock?
Lost the use of your hands?”

“Sorry. I need to sign the registers.”

“Finally. They’re on the desk in the corner.”

Wren took a pen from her bag.

“While you’re in here, I’ll go for a cup of coffee,” Jolene
said. “Answer the phone and take a message if anyone calls.”

“Okay.”

Wren suspected Jolene’s dislike of her was because the woman
had a very obvious crush on Moaning Martin. Well, obvious to everyone but
Martin. Even if he eventually asked Jolene out, Wren suspected she’d still
despise her because he’d asked Wren first and Jolene had been there. Neither
Wren nor Martin had seen Jolene in the staffroom until their awkward exchange
was over. Wren didn’t much like Jolene but everything seemed to run smoother
since she’d come to work there a year ago. The staff was paid on time for a
start.

Jolene’s desk was tidy, everything set in neat piles, the
computer monitor and keyboard spotless, pens and pencils and bulldog clips in
lines. When Olive had done the administration, the desk overflowed with paper and
the room always looked as though it had been hit by a whirlwind. Jolene had
whipped everything and everyone into shape within the first week.

Wren opened the top register and frowned. At first she
thought she’d picked up someone else’s file, because she expected to see four
names and there were eight. But it
was
her class. The name and time were
correct. She checked the rest of her registers and found the same names added
for her other conversation classes, students she’d never seen.
Weird.

Her gaze shifted to the closed door that led to Olive’s
office. She picked up the folder and knocked—no one answered. Student files
were kept in the tall, gray cabinet behind Jolene’s desk. Wren stared at it.
She could check the names, but teachers weren’t supposed to open the cabinet
without permission. Jolene probably didn’t trust them to put the files back in
the right place. Merely thinking about opening the cabinet and getting caught
made her heart thump.

What would Jolene do if she caught her? Eat her? Her feet but
not her brain took her to the corner and she pulled open the bottom drawer.

The student files were in alphabetical order. She checked
the four names and found slender files for each, application forms with basic
personal details, addresses in their home country and in the UK, next of kin,
date of birth. There were details of attendance for Wren’s classes and marks
she’d given them, yet she’d definitely not taught any of them.

It had to be some sort of mistake.

Wren hesitated and then pulled out Tomas’ file. Thirty-four.
Unmarried. No next of kin listed. He lived on Dock Street, so he hadn’t lied
about that. Then she checked Adam’s. Thirty years old. He’d given his home
address as 3 Wellington Place, Greenwich, but he was temporarily living next to
Tomas.
How strange. How…convenient.

She closed the file cabinet and went over to the photocopier
to duplicate one of her class sheets with the extra names. She wasn’t going to
sign off on anything until she’d checked with Olive.

Tomas had spent most of Wren’s Italian for Travelers class
plotting ways to get even with Adam for walking out of the men’s room without
finishing what he’d started. When the bastard left him standing with his pants
around his ankles and a cock hard enough to pound a hole in the wall, he’d been
torn for a moment between fury and laughter. Laughter won. Just.

He liked that Adam wasn’t the type to roll over, but
everything that made Tomas like him also made it harder for him to do his own
walking away. Two dominant guys in a relationship made things tricky. They also
made things damn near perfect, assuming Tomas could get his ass in gear.
Literally. He bit back a sigh. He wouldn’t fight this anymore. He didn’t want
to. In three weeks Adam would be back in London. Plenty of time to get him out of
his system. What was one more secret from Marco? Oh, and from his official
boss.

Leaning back in his chair, in between exchanging glares and
smirks with Adam, he listened to Wren chatter in Italian.
God, she’s good
and she’s cute.
Adam was crap at Italian. He shouldn’t be in the class. Not
hard to figure out he was there because of Wren. The two of them had some sort
of history and Tomas was keen to learn what that was. He felt a pang of
something uncomfortably like jealousy.

One way to deal with that and maybe kill two birds with one
stone. After the lesson was over, he planned to corner her and ask her to
dinner. Though he wasn’t sure if that was to piss off Adam or because he liked
her. A little of both. A vibration in his pocket told him he had a text and he
tried to check it without Wren noticing. Apparently Veton was parked on double
yellow lines outside and wanted him there now.
Fuck.

When the lesson ended and Wren bolted, he decided to wait
and ask her out tomorrow.

When Adam saw Tomas and Wren dash out of the room at the end
of the Italian lesson, he’d thought for a moment they were going somewhere
together, but as he hurried after them, he spotted Wren making for the office
while Tomas headed outside. He followed Wren and lingered by the notice board,
waiting for her to emerge. When he spotted Wren ran an Italian cookery class on
Wednesday evening, he signed up for it. The door of the office opened and he
spun round smiling, but it was Jolene who emerged and he quickly turned back to
the board.
Shit.
He didn’t want her to think he was—

“Everything okay?” she asked, the flirty tone unmistakable.

“Just checking the details for the Italian cookery class.”

“What do you need to know? Maybe I can help?”

“Seeing what I need to bring.”

“You pay Wren on the night. She provides the ingredients.
Saves the students having to bother. You get to keep or eat what you’ve made.
If it’s edible.” She chuckled. “You’d be better at the Italian restaurant
around the corner. It’s really good. Perhaps—”

“Right, thanks.” Adam stared at the board until he heard
Jolene stomping for the stairs. Once she’d gone, he exhaled. Was Wren now in
there on her own? He shuffled from foot to foot.
Just get in there and speak
to her.

When he opened the door, Wren jerked upright from the photocopier
and looked—guilty? “Hi.”

Her smile reassured him. Christ, just seeing at her made his
heart hop and his throat tighten. He might not have had sex for a long time
with anyone other than himself, but this wasn’t normal, to have this strong a
need to—

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

Yes.
“No. Yes. No.”
Has lust addled my brain?

Wren chuckled.

“No,” he said firmly.

“That’s better.”

“What is it about you?” he whispered and as her smile slid
south, he swallowed hard. “Wouldyouliketocomeoutwithmetonight?”
Way to look
smooth.
“Manage to decipher that or shall I say it again?” Though he wasn’t
sure it would come out any more coherent the second time around. He’d reverted
to the shy, stumbling lad of his teens.

“A date?”

The uncertainty in her voice added to his nervousness.
“Movie, meal, bowling, skating, dancing, parachuting. I don’t know. Whatever
you want. Er, except not the parachuting. I threw that in at random.”

“Now I’m disappointed.”

No way was he letting her make a parachute jump. On Adam’s
first solo free fall, his chute had failed to open. The emergency chute saved
him, but that was the last time he intended to throw himself out of a plane
unless it was onto one of those inflated escape ramps.

“I’m not supposed to date students.”

He couldn’t tell if that was a yes or a no, but she sounded
disappointed. “Then I’ll stop being a student.”

She stared into his eyes and it was all he could do not to
drag her into his arms and kiss her right there and then.

“I mean it,” he said. “This place isn’t important. You are.”

“Oh God.”

“God or good?”

Wren chuckled. “A meal then, but you do know how to keep a
secret? Otherwise I’ll get the sack.”

He nodded, but he couldn’t see why there was a problem. They
were adults, though his cock was behaving like a teenager.

“We’re friends. No issue in us eating together,” he said.

That came out wrong.
Her smile wavered. Adam wanted
more than a meal with her.
Tell her.

“No issue at all,” Wren said.

“Where shall we go? Shall I pick you up? What time? What do
you like to eat?” He clamped his lips together, wishing he could slap his hand
over his mouth and start again, preferably from before the moment he’d knocked
her on her butt.

“I finish at five. We can decide then. Meet me in the pub we
went to at lunchtime?”

“I’m going to go and sit in there now so I don’t miss you.”

Wren laughed. They left the office and she headed for the
stairs. He watched until she was out of sight. She thought he was joking but he
wasn’t. Now he’d found her, there was no way he was letting her go.

Wren almost danced up to the staffroom.
He asked me on a
date. I said yes.
She wanted to yell it out loud. Or at least whisper it to
Sylvie, who sat talking to Mike, another Russian teacher. Four other staff
members were in there, plus Jolene and Belinda. Wren dumped her bags on a chair
near Sylvie and headed for the coffee machine.

“Has Olive come back?” Jolene called across the room.

“No.”

“You left the phone unattended?” Jolene screeched. “You
idiot.”

“You didn’t say you wanted me to stay until you came back,”
Wren shouted as Jolene hurried through the door. Though thinking about it, she
should have guessed.
Damn.
Adam had distracted her.

She took her mug from the cupboard, made herself a drink and
went to sit next to Mike and Sylvie. “Think I’m off her Christmas card list?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Were you ever on it?”

“Yep. I got one last year. A robin wearing a kilt, on
paper-thin card. Cheap and hideous.”

Wren took the sheet she’d copied from her bag. “Did either
of you have any of the last four students in your class last term?”