Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(111)
“He gave another student a black eye,” I shoot back. “Not to mention disrupted my class.”
Pulling two eleven-year-old boys apart in the middle of the classroom is harder than most would think. For one, they’re almost the same size as me. My five-foot-two frame is no match for two angry boys when they nearly put me on my ass.
“So? He was defending the girl and defending himself. I would have done the same,” Mr. Knight continues to disagree with me. His anger confuses me a little. What does he expect me to say? Sure, it’s fine your son clocked another student and left him with a swollen eye?
“Yes, I don’t doubt that. However, the school board doesn’t see it that way. Using violence against each other gets us nowhere.” I stop myself from saying our school rules are probably different to the rules he follows.
I stand from my chair, trying to end the conversation before I come to blows with him. Something inside of me wants to argue with him, my quick temper often getting me in trouble, but this is more. The thought of pushing him sends a tingle down my spine. I need to stop this. I force myself not to engage with him anymore; the rules are simple, there’s no point arguing. He obviously lives by his own set of rules. Unfortunately for his son, he must abide by the school’s.
“My son has a right to defend himself. Where were you when all this was happening?” He stands, clearly not done with this battle, now questioning me.
“I was dealing with another student.” I find myself on the defensive. “These boys are eleven years old, Mr. Knight. Old enough to be trusted and know violence is no way to handle things. Using your fists does not make you a man. He should have walked away and come and told me,” I tell him, feeling small again under his height and gaze.
He laughs out loud, his eyes flashing with annoyance, evidently not agreeing with me. “Lady, you got no idea what makes a man. Someone puts his hands on me, I sure as hell will respond the same way.”
Knowing I’m not going to get anywhere with this infuriating man, I straighten out my hand to shake his, ready to be out of his presence. My behavior is irrational I know. I’ve gone from feeling a spark to wanting to slap him for arguing with me.
“My decision is final, Mr. Knight. The boys will start their detention tomorrow. I hope I don’t have to take this further next time,” I say, hoping I don’t have to see him again. Something about him gets me riled up. Sure he’s hot, but his arrogant attitude is starting to annoy me. He stands quietly for a moment, not moving, not speaking, his eyes silently assessing me. The tension in the air is electrifying around us. I begin to feel a little uncomfortable with my hand outstretched before he takes it, the heat of his grip wrapping around mine.
“Well, Mrs. —”
“Miss,” I snap at him this time and wince at my tone.
“Yes, of course.” He smiles, like he wanted to hear it again. I try to pull my hand back but he tightens, pulling me forward, my free hand going to my desk as his thumb strokes the inside of my palm. The intimate move is not lost on me. Oh, God, I’m bipolar, now I want to keep my hand here.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner.” He leans in close, the warmth of his breath just skimming the side of my ear before he lets go and moves back. I steady myself, unbalanced by the loss. What the hell was that?
Reaching out, he clicks his fingers to get Zayden’s attention. “Come on, Z,” he says, waiting for him to stand. He then follows him out the door without a backward glance.
Following Mr. Knight’s lead, Mr. Hill stands, his expression now somber. For a moment I forgot he was still here, lost in the impulse that was that man.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner. I’ll have a word with Tommy about what he thinks he heard.” He nods, not giving me his eyes. At least he has the good sense to look embarrassed.
Grabbing Tommy’s bag, he wishes me a good evening and then turns and leaves, Tommy following close behind.
Falling back into my chair, I let out a shaky breath, glad that it’s over. I can’t believe I let Zayden’s dad get to me like that. No man has ever instilled lust and anger just by looking at me. His presence screams confidence and testosterone, right down to the way he ran his eyes over me. I know he probably acts like that toward all women, yet the thought that he felt it too excites me.
It takes me a few minutes to calm my breathing and stop all lustful thoughts of Mr. Knight before I can even begin to pack up and gather my belongings. Shutting down the lights for the day, I lock up the room and walk down the hall to the teachers’ lounge. I’m stopped in my tracks when I look up ahead. Standing by the lockers, I observe Mr. Knight kneeling in front of Z. His hand outstretched, around his neck, their heads leaning into each other, talking quietly. Zayden nods and smiles before his dad leans in further and kisses the top of his hair. The sight of this man being fatherly stirs something in me, more than his touch did. He exudes this type of power over people with his presence, but watching him talk with his son makes him vulnerable. I have no right thinking of him like that. The man is off limits, not to mention a walking smartass, but standing there at a distance, I can see how much he loves his son. The affection in his eyes leaves me with a sense of longing. I want that.
Shaking off the thought I turn into the teachers’ lounge, impatient to get home to a glass of wine, thus cutting all thoughts of one Mr. Knight, aka arrogant ass, aka sexy hot biker.