Uneventful

John cleared his throat, straightening the papers between them with unnecessary precision. "I don't regret a second of what happened," he said quietly, his fingers pausing on the edge of Emily's notebook. "But we have to at least *try* to follow the rules." The words tasted like sawdust in his mouth.

Emily's lips quirked—just a fleeting twitch before she schooled her expression into something appropriately solemn. "Of course, Principal Lee," she murmured, tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear with deliberate slowness. The movement made her sweater dip slightly, revealing the faintest shadow of cleavage. "Professional tutoring only." Her blue eyes glinted with unspoken promises as she opened her economics textbook with exaggerated care.

For thirty-seven agonizing minutes, Emily was the picture of academic diligence—nodding at appropriate intervals, scribbling notes with focused intensity, even asking thoughtful questions about fiscal policy. The model student. Except for the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath the table, the whisper of nylon drawing John's gaze to the slip of thigh revealed by her riding-up skirt. Or how she leaned forward just a fraction too far when pointing to a graph, the neckline of her sweater gaping to reveal the lace edge of her bra.

The grandfather clock chimed, its deep tones reverberating through the library's oak shelves. Emily stretched her arms overhead with a sigh that did interesting things to her sweater's fabric, her back arching subtly. "I think I actually understand marginal utility now," she murmured, tapping her pencil against the textbook. Her knee brushed John's beneath the table—accidentally on purpose—as she gathered her notes.

John cleared his throat, adjusting his seating position with careful nonchalance. "You're a quick study," he managed, keeping his eyes firmly on the economic graphs. The scent of Emily conjuring visceral memories of her gasps against his neck last night. His fingers twitched around his pen.

Emily's gaze flickered downward for the briefest moment before her lips curled into a secret smile. She stood slowly, smoothing her skirt with deliberate strokes that drew attention to her slender thighs. "Is there anything else I can help you with before I go, Principal Lee?" The innocence in her voice was undercut by the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

John's pulse jumped at the double entendre. He shifted again, acutely aware of how his slacks had grown uncomfortably tight. "No, that'll be all for tonight," he said, his voice rougher than intended. The library's dim lighting couldn't hide the flush creeping up his neck.

Emily leaned forward just enough to make her ponytail swing, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Are you sure?" she purred, her fingertips brushing the edge of the table near his lap. "You look... tense." The way she lingered on the last word sent heat licking through his veins.

John's grip on the chair arms tightened. "Positive," he ground out, though every cell in his body screamed otherwise. The memory of her tight warmth around him last night superimposed itself over her teasing smile. "You should get to bed. Big day tomorrow."

Emily's laugh was soft, knowing. She straightened with exaggerated slowness, her skirt riding up another inch as she shouldered her bag. "Goodnight, Principal Lee."