Chemistry Can Burn

Chapter 3: Chemistry Can Burn

The smell of antiseptic, copper piping, and fresh paper lingered in the science wing of Blackwell Academy. Fluorescent lights buzzed above as students filed into Ms. Linton's classroom, their laughter and idle chatter bouncing off the lab tables.

Aiden stepped in, scanning the polished countertops, the beakers lined with precision, and finally her.

Ms. Cara Linton.

She stood behind her desk in a cream blouse tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt that did little to hide her curves. Her auburn hair was loosely tied, a few strands teasing her neckline. She smiled at the class, but Aiden saw something behind the smile. A quiet ache. A longing.

She was softer than Ms. Vaughn, less rigid. Her movements fluid. Her voice more musical than stern.

But he could still break her.

"Mr. Cross," she said as he took his seat in the front row again. "I heard you've made quite an impression in Literature already."

"I try," he said with a disarming smirk. "But I think I'll enjoy Chemistry more."

She hesitated, then smiled back. A flicker of something in her eyes.

Class began. Bunsen burners hissed. Formulas were written in neat chalk. But his attention stayed on her hands—elegant, unringed fingers, the way she tucked hair behind her ear when nervous. How she avoided holding eye contact for more than a few seconds.

After class, he waited again.

"You're staying?" she asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I have some gaps in my Chemistry background. Thought maybe I could stay behind. Get some tutoring."

She glanced around. The room was empty now. "I suppose a little extra help wouldn't hurt."

She began explaining reaction types, her back to him. He walked up behind her, watching her lips move, the slight curve of her lower back under her blouse.

He didn't speak. Just watched. Breathed.

Eventually she turned.

And froze.

He was inches away.

"You're very close," she said, a touch breathless.

"Chemistry's all about proximity, isn't it?" he whispered.

She blinked, lips parting.

He reached past her to grab a beaker. "What does this one do?"

She looked down. "It—it holds reactions. But that one's delicate. Very heat-sensitive."

He met her gaze. "Good. So am I."

The silence stretched. Her breath caught as he traced a finger down her arm.

Then she backed up. "This is inappropriate."

"But not unwelcome," he said.

She turned away, flustered. "You're a student."

He stepped closer again. "And you're lonely."

That broke her. She spun, eyes wide. "You don't know anything about me."

He touched her cheek, gently this time. "I know you wear makeup to hide how tired you are. I know you flinch every time your phone rings. I know your perfume is expensive but faded—it means you haven't replaced it in a while. I know your husband left."

She stared at him, shaking.

"I know you need something to burn," he whispered.

And then she kissed him.

Unlike Ms. Vaughn's first kiss—fueled by fury and denial—this was trembling. Desperate. Soft lips searching for warmth.

He kissed her back slowly, then pushed her against the lab table, lifting her onto it.

Beakers rattled.

Her blouse unbuttoned easily. Her bra, navy and lacy, barely contained her full breasts. He kissed down her throat, tracing the soft skin.

"I shouldn't," she whispered.

"You already did."

He knelt, pushing her skirt up, revealing soft, cream-colored panties. Damp.

She moaned as he pulled them aside and tasted her slowly, tongue dragging along her folds. Her fingers gripped the table edge like a lifeline.

"Oh—Aiden—"

He licked her faster, deeper, until her thighs clamped around his head. She arched back and came, gasping, shaking.

When he stood, she pulled him close and unzipped him.

"No protection," he warned.

"I'm on the pill," she whispered.

He slid into her slowly, both of them gasping. The lab table creaked beneath them. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he began to thrust.

"Say my name."

"Aiden."

Again.

"Aiden, oh god, yes—"

He drove into her harder, filling her again and again, until she was moaning his name like prayer. Her walls clenched. She came again, sobbing against his chest.

He pulled out, finishing across her stomach with a groan.

She lay there, panting.

He cleaned her up with a towel from the sink.

She sat up, eyes shining. "This can't happen again."

He kissed her lips gently. "It will."