Something like lust, p.1
Something like Lust, page 1
Something like Lust
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2023 by Piper Rayne®
Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design: By Hang Le
1st Line Editor: Joy Editing
2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: My Brother’s Editor
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* * *
About Something like Lust
Do it.
* * *
Don’t do it.
* * *
Never in my life did I think I’d wager in my head whether to sleep with Chicago Grizzlies wide receiver, Damon Siska.
* * *
He’s the perfect package—hot body, killer smile, and flirts like he earned a doctorate in it. But anyone who reads gossip blogs knows he is looking for one amazing night and nothing more.
* * *
I’m not the usual type of woman he beds. I’m a middle school teacher who cherishes her quiet nights in, drinking wine, and watching romantic comedies, dreaming I’m the heroine. I’m not embarrassed to admit—I want the fairy tale.
* * *
But Damon caught me at a weak moment. Fresh off a break-up and feeling lousy about myself, I gave into temptation and left the next morning like every other woman he’d slept with.
* * *
Except I walked away with more than just the memories when three weeks later the little white stick glowed with two pink lines.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings
About Piper & Rayne
Also by Piper Rayne
Chapter 1
Damon
No wonder I had to hire a private investigator to find her. The woman who randomly texted me to tell me she’s having my baby lives in bumfuck nowhere.
I press on the gas after the hundredth four-way stop intersection, pull into the parking lot of Morning Roots Middle School, and park along the curb by the front door. I climb out of my Mercedes G Class and walk toward the doors, pocketing my keys. Damn, I think it’s even colder out here than in the city. I pull my jacket tighter around me until I reach the large entrance to the school.
I tug on the first door.
Locked.
I go to the other door.
Locked.
What the hell?
I glance over my shoulder at the parking lot full of cars. It’s Wednesday. I move to the final door and reach for the handle.
“Can I help you, sir?” a woman’s voice asks.
I scan the area around me. No one is here.
“The speaker, sir.” The woman’s voice is curt. “To your right.”
I look over, and sure enough, there’s a silver box with a sign that says, “Press here to enter.”
“I’m here to see someone,” I say into the microphone.
“And who would that someone be?” Her clear annoyance only irritates me.
Sorry I don’t know the rules of the speaker. When I was young, you just walked into the school. Of course, it was a private academy. I never attended a public school. And times have changed.
“Adeline Morgan.” There’s a long pause, so after a minute or so, I press the button. “Hello?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” she snipes.
My head rears back from the speaker. “Well then,” I mutter to myself.
“I can hear you,” she says.
“Not making any new friends today, Siska,” I grumble, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket. Does this lady remember it’s February in Illinois? Probably the coldest month of the year?
I should be on vacation right now. The one I always take when football season is over. I should be celebrating winning the championship game with my team. I should be on a sandy beach with the sun beating down, a woman on each side of me.
Where I should not be is in the middle of nowhere with two inches of snow on the ground and whipping wind that chills every bone in my body, which is still healing from a rough season. I should not be so nervous about this impending conversation that it feels as if my breakfast is going to make a reappearance.
The buzzer goes off, though the woman’s voice doesn’t come through the speaker at all, so I rush to pull open the door. I enter a small foyer and am presented with another set of doors. Once I’m through there, I’m standing in front of the woman behind the voice—based on the sour expression on her face. A man behind her wears a big security badge, but his smile says he’s a Grizzlies fan.
“You’re lucky I have fast reflexes,” I say.
“Actually, you’re lucky you do.” She doesn’t offer even a tight smile.
Not wanting to deal with any more bullshit from this lady, I get right to the point. “Is Adeline Morgan around?”
“She’s teaching. Did you miss the sign outside?”
If this lady’s attitude was directed at anyone else, I’d find this funny, but I’ve had maybe an hour’s sleep over the last two nights. I won the championship and couldn’t even celebrate with my team because my mind kept coming back to that text I received right after our win.
I’m pregnant, and you’re the dad.
The clearing of a throat pulls me back to the present and the snarky lady in front of me.
“Can you call her and ask to come here?”
She blows out a breath. “We do not make it a habit to interrupt our teachers for non-emergencies. Is this an emergency?”
I’d like to say yes, but in the conventional sense, the answer is no.
She raises her hand, snapping her fingers. “Elijah, come here.”
A boy I hadn’t seen standing behind her, and the security guard walks out from around them. He has a young, innocent face that’s starting to grow a mustache. He stares at me, and I smile at him.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond, his unblinking eyes steady on me.
I return my gaze to the woman. “Listen, tell her Damon Siska is here. I think she’ll want to see me.”
That’s likely a lie, given the fact Adeline hid her pregnancy from me for six months. I doubt she wanted me to show up where she works, but I prefer the element of surprise. Giving anyone knowledge of what you’re about to do gives them time to prepare, think of an out.
“And what makes you so special?” the woman asks.
Feeling the kid’s eyes on me still, I glance down and offer him a fist bump. He slowly raises his small fist and knocks mine before lowering it, all while not blinking.
I want to tell her to ask this kid why I’m so damn special or the guy behind her—who must be scared of her too—because I see his excitement in the smile he’s still giving me.
She frowns and waves for me to follow her into the office on her right. I do so, as do the security guard and the kid. We all stand on the opposite side of a desk as her while she lowers her head and writes a note, strips it off a pad, and holds it out over the desk.
“Elijah, take this to Miss Morgan, please.” She turns her gaze to me. “You can have a seat.” She points with her pen behind me.
“Why don’t I just go with Elijah?”
She scoffs. “This is a school, sir.”
“You can call me Damon,” I offer with the hope she’ll give me her name. Maybe if we’re on a first-name basis, we could make this run a little smoother.
“No, thank you. As I was saying, this is a school. We don’t let just anyone who wanders in walk around the school.”
I open my mouth, but she’s quick to put up her hand. This woman reminds me of Mrs. Labyrinth in twelfth grade when she caught me in her basement with her daughter. She made my life miserable in physics class that year.
“Now, I know you’re Damon Siska. I recognized you as you stepped out of your fancy car after you decided you were too important to park in the lot like the rest of us and felt entitled enough to park in the fire lane. Obviously, Elijah thinks you’re all that and a bag of chips. Usually the kid can’t shut up. But no one is going to walk through our school unless they clear through me.”
Begrudgingly, I sit in one of the plastic chairs, officially schooled. Everyone always likes me, so why does this woman have a problem with me? Then it dawns on me…
“You’re a Green Bay fan!” I point in her di rection, and the security guy nods. “That makes sense. We’re kind of close to the border of Wisconsin, right? That’s cool. I have some friends who play up there, even if we’re rivals. Who’s your favorite player? I can get you an autograph or maybe tickets.” The season’s over, so I can’t really offer her much at the moment. But Roman Maxwell plays for them now after being traded from the Grizzlies a couple years ago.
“This has nothing to do with what football team I cheer for. There are rules, and based on your reputation, I gather you don’t like to follow them.”
I point at myself and look over my shoulder. “I’ll have you know, in kindergarten, I received the best listener award.”
She stares blankly while the security guard laughs but is quick to stop when she gives him a scathing look over her shoulder. “Are you looking for a congratulations?”
“Nope. Just stating facts.” I sit back in the uncomfortable seat and wait.
The longer I wait, the more my bravado ebbs, and my nerves set in. I crack my neck a few times. Seriously, the drive here sucked. Why would anyone want to live here? There’s nothing here for a single woman Adeline’s age. Especially one so beautiful.
I sit in silence for at least ten minutes, observing the woman’s demeanor with other people who come in. She’s pleasant to a mom bringing in her son’s lunch because he left it at home. She smiles at a father here to pick up his sick kid. And she’s downright flirtatious with the package delivery guy, purposely eyeing me as she apologizes to him about the parked car in the fire lane.
He smirks at me when he turns to leave but stops in his tracks. “Damon Siska?”
I nod. “Hey, man.”
“Damn.” He pats himself down, looking for a pen. I know that’s what he’s doing because it’s a common occurrence. “Shit, my pen is in the truck.” He turns back around, and dragon lady already has a pen and paper out for him. “Thanks, Shaylene.” He takes it from her and turns back to me. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I’m nice like that.” I eye Shaylene, then sign Go Grizzlies and my name.
“Thanks. My son is at the high school and he’s gonna die when I tell him that you were here. Why are you here?” He scours the area as if there should be a chalkboard with the reason displayed for him to read.
“Just visiting a friend.”
He nods. “Awesome.” He holds up the paper. “Thanks for this.”
Elijah walks back into the office, his face red. He averts eye contact with me, handing a note to Shaylene. “She wrote you a note back, Ms. Gregory.” His head falls down so his chin rests on his chest.
She reads it. I want to rush across the room and grab it from her to read it myself.
“As I thought.” She tears up the paper. “She’s busy with her classes today. She said she’ll call you later.”
My mouth drops open. “Seriously?” I approach the desk, wanting to grab the small pieces of paper and assemble them to see what she really said. I’ve never been good with being kept out of the inside circle.
“I’m not sure what you expected. This is a school. Miss Morgan is a teacher and therefore is here to teach the children who attend. She cannot just walk out of her classroom to see what you need.”
Elijah’s shoulders slowly rise as if he wishes he could sink into the floor. The feeling is mutual.
I hold up my hands. “Fine. I get it. Let me at least leave my number.” I eye the pen and paper the delivery guy left, and she sighs before handing them over to me.
Since Adeline sent me a text, I assume she’s got the number she never used for six months, but I don’t want her to have any excuses. If I don’t get a call today, I’ll be back every day until Shaylene lets me through.
Why the hell would Adeline send me a text message and ghost me?
Chapter 2
Adeline
I stare out the window of the teachers’ lounge at the fancy Mercedes SUV. It’s too tinted for me to say for certain, but I know in my gut it’s Damon. I mindlessly rub my belly. I haven’t blown up yet, but the bump is definitely noticeable. Which meant coming clean with my coworkers and principal two months ago. There’s a good chance I won’t see the end of the school year before this baby makes his or her arrival.
“Is he going to sit out there all day?” Isla says in her typical judgmental voice.
Thankfully, it’s just her and our other teacher friend Sami in here with me, but soon more of the teachers will file in for lunch, and word will spread that Damon Siska is sitting in his car in our parking lot.
I’d rather chew glass than confess that he knocked me up after a one-night stand.
“How did he find me? Why is he here?” I mumble.
I’ve gotten his calls since the Chicago Grizzlies won the bowl last weekend. The first message was odd after having not spoken to him in six months. “Hey, call me.” I assumed he might’ve been looking for a booty call, but what would a champion-winning running back need with me? Surely he has his pick of women.
I didn’t respond because I doubted he was looking for a pregnant hook-up. From my experience with him, he’s like a damn acrobat in bed, constantly changing positions, with the stamina of a superhero. No complaints from me. By the time my orgasm came, I saw stars from coming so hard.
His second, third, and fourth messages were much more forceful, and by his fifth, he said it was unfair for me to not answer his calls. I don’t know what the heck he meant with that comment, but I do know I’m not ready to see him. Because that will mean coming clean about the situation I’m in. And though I’ve been psyching myself up to do so for months, it’s going to change everything, and I don’t know that I’m ready for that. Again.
When Elijah showed up at my classroom door yesterday with a note that said Damon was here, I almost passed out. I literally had to close my eyes from feeling lightheaded. This is coming to a head, I know it. Today, he’s been out here for hours. Our security guard-slash-fan of his, Vic, informed me shortly after school started that Damon was here, and I have no doubt he’ll be here when I leave. There’s no place for me to hide.
“How did he find out?” Sami asks, chomping on her carrot stick. “I’m still in disbelief that the guy I slept with wasn’t him and that you got pregnant by the real Damon Siska.”
When we first met Damon last summer, Sami didn’t believe it was him because she’d had a one-night stand with a guy she’d thought was Damon Siska from the Chicago Grizzlies. Turns out it was just a guy who kind of looked like him and liked to use that fact to his full advantage.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, still staring out at the vehicle.
I can’t lie and say I was thrilled when that stick turned up with two lines. I immediately threw up, and not because of morning sickness. All in all, I’ve had a great pregnancy. Ever since I first felt the little flutters in my belly, I’ve been growing more excited, if not nervous.
“I thought you went to Chicago and told him?” Sami continues. She’s also reading her latest gossip blog on her phone when real drama is unfolding right here in front of her.
“Oh, she went to tell him,” Isla says. The way she drops her feet from the chair she’s resting them on, I know she’s prepared to tell Sami the whole story, but thankfully, some other teachers come into the room.
Teachers like Henry. He smiles at me, his gaze dropping to my stomach. That’s the way it is these days. Opening up the fridge, he takes out his prepared lunch, then he walks over to me, glaring out the window. “Still here, huh? Talk about making a spectacle. Every student is making bets on who it is and who they’re here for.”
