Lessons in Love

Dedicated to
molsss

PLEASE READ: Hi there. So, this is a new story - it’s rated R BUT will NOT be hardcore or erotica or anything like that. It’s simply a story that I KNOW will have a couple of R rated “scenes” in it so I’ll just start it as R in the first place. This is only a bit of fun story that will only get updates when I feel like writing something…. different…. And so therefore PLEASE don’t hound me for updates. If you are not a patient person, then just wait for the story to be finished before you start it as I have no idea how often it’ll be updated!!!!

It’s going to be a split POV story, one chapter her pov, then the next will be his pov.

Anyway, enough rambling - hope you enjoy my take on a student teacher story…. :D

Lessons in Love

Chapter 1

~ Harper ~

I sat at my desk and blew out a big breath. Why did this lesson always seem to drag on and on? Was it because it was the last lesson of the day? Was it because it was psychology and that was the worst subject in the history of the world? Was it because it was Friday and I was just looking forward to a lazy weekend? No. It was none of those things. The reason the lesson dragged was because of the six foot one chunk of hotness that was perched on the edge of his desk talking about pro and anti-social behaviour and some other gibberish that I couldn’t even try to concentrate on.

I rested my chin on my hand and let my eyes rake over his body, slowly. I drank him in, everything from his messy dark blond hair, past his straight nose and strong jaw, down over his broad shoulders. My gaze locked on his chest as I tried desperately to imagine the skin that was hidden under his blue t-shirt. He moved his arm, gesturing towards the chalk board, making the muscles flex in his forearm. When he stood up, I mentally swooned as he bent over to pick up something from his desk. His bum looked incredible in his jeans; they sat in just the right place so that when he stretched to pick up his book, his shirt rode up exposing a strip of his boxers and the words Calvin Klein stitched into the waistband.

I both hated and loved dress down Fridays. I loved them because we wouldn’t have to wear the stupid school uniform that they insisted that even us sixth formers wear. But I hated dress down Fridays because my psychology teacher, Mr Stone, looked so damn sexy that I couldn’t get anything done. He was new this year and was devilishly handsome - though not all girls though so. I guess his personality was what gave him the edge over guys my age. Mr Stone was adorable, so helpful and patient. He’d been giving me extra study lessons after school for the last few weeks, helping me with extracurricular projects for my university applications, and I had fallen for him big time. Though I would never say anything because, let’s face it, a student and teacher relationship is just plain wrong, not to mention illegal.

He’d told me last week that it was his birthday and that he’d turned twenty-eight. That put the age gap firmly at ten years because I’d turned eighteen a month ago. This was my last year at school before I went to university and I was just praying that I would do well. Psychology used to be my favourite subject, it still was in a way, but now that Mr Stone was here I called it perv-ology class instead. I had to work extra hard out of school to keep up because my class time was spent sighing wistfully as I tried not to get caught staring at his bum. I needed to pass though, my university place was offered on the condition of an A on all three of my A-level subjects. Hopefully if I carried on working hard for the next month, did well with my final coursework assignment, and then studied really hard for my exams, I’d be fine.