To Professor, With Love (11 page)

“Aspen,” I murmured, saying it again because I just couldn’t help myself.

God, what was I doing?

She closed her eyes and sighed again. “You make me tingle every time I see you.”

Damn, if she wanted to talk about tingling... She licked her lips unconsciously, and my dick tingled from base to tip, turning as hard as stone.

“I think I’ve been perpetually wet since the first moment I saw you walk into my class.”

Jesus.

A groan slipped from my throat. I gripped her shoulder, telling myself to push her back, but instead, I held her right where she was.

“The first time you walked into my class, I felt this zing, like a hot flash, cover me from head to toe. I remember stuttering when I introduced myself because I was so flabbergasted. You flabbergasted me. No one flabbergasts me. But then I learned you were Ellamore’s precious quarterback and it all became clear. He was the football star too, and I had such a huge crush on him. I think that’s my curse. But he only paid attention to me to make me think he was interested, so he could humiliate me...and then he hurt me. I thought you’d be exactly like that. I mean, I had the same first impression of you as I did him. Except with you, it was like...fifty times stronger. I just...I love looking at you. I love the sound of your voice. The way you walk. The way you smile and brush your hair out of your eyes. But I will never get over the way you love your family and how you’ll do anything to save them. I just...I wish someday, someone would love me like that.”

The look in her eyes was obvious. She wanted me to love her like that. Strangely, the idea didn’t scare the shit out of me. I mean, I didn’t fall head over heels that instant or anything. But after listening to her spill the crap she’d just spilled to me, I wanted her to be loved like that almost as badly as she did.

When I swayed forward without meaning to, she lifted her face. But I paused and closed my eyes, my jaw bulging as I swallowed down the temptation to take greedily. I had to stop thinking with my dick, because this had gotten way too personal, and way too emotional. And she was still way too...

“You’re drunk,” I reminded her.

She nodded, agreeing. “Really drunk.”

“I can’t kiss you. I’ll be taking advantage.” Fuck, why had I mentioned kissing? We hadn’t been talking about kissing at all.

But she didn’t seem to notice my subject change. “Okay,” she slurred. “Then...how ’bout I jus’ kiss
you
instead?”

It happened like that. I didn’t tell her no in time so she lifted onto her toes and pressed her mouth to mine. I closed my eyes, trying to resist it. But the palm she’d been cupping my cheek with slid around until it caged the back of my neck. When her fingernails grazed the base of my skull as she combed through my hair, I shuddered. And her lips, Christ, her lips were soft and pliable. She tasted like Bud Light Lime and sunshine, and I couldn’t help myself. I opened up to taste just a little more.

She mewed out a hungry sound, which had me cradling her face as I plunged my tongue in. God. Warm and wet, her kiss was everything. I could’ve done this all night. But…

“If we don’t stop now, I’ll be an asshole.”

“Don’t worry.” She tugged me back to her. “I already considered you an asshole.”

I laughed only for her to kiss me again. A groan smothered my chuckle, and I drowned in her lips until I could pull myself back...only to curse and go back for more. She was so tiny, I grew tired of arching down to kiss her, so I picked her up, and she immediately wound her legs around my waist.

Crushing her back against the wall, I kissed her some more, scoping out the cavity inside her mouth until my tongue felt as comfortable there as it did in my own. My lips didn’t want to part from hers, but there was so much more I wanted to taste.

Living out my fantasy I’d had at the bar when I’d first seen her tonight, I buried my fingers into the part of her free-flowing hair she’d left down and kissed my way to the exposed side of her throat, and then onto her shoulder.

I had no idea she’d be quite this soft, or smell quite this good. It fogged my head so that when I slid my hand down her perfect bare spine, I just kept going until I cupped her ass and grinded us together.

Seriously, I didn’t mean to forage inside her skirt, but her dress had just sort of naturally worked its way up when she’d lifted her legs. When I did get a handful of her amazing ass, I found myself palming her silky black panties instead of her skirt. Realizing I was right there, my hand had to keep exploring up between her legs until I found the material damp, soaked with her slick, wet arousal. She was ready for me. Aching for me.

From that point on, I was pretty much screwed. “Where’s your room?” I gasped, moving my fingers until she was squirming against me, her body demanding more.

“Hall.” She pointed sloppily over my shoulder. “First door. Right side.”

Fusing our mouths back together, I peeled her off the wall and carried her through the dim front room, only tripping once when I ran into a chair.

She laughed and buried her face in my neck, which afforded me a few moments to focus on where we were going and delight in how warm and soft and perfect she felt wrapped around me.

When I entered her bedroom, she reached past me to flip on another light. Her sanctuary was brightly colored and a lot less neat than the front room. The sheets were barely thrown over the mattress and clothes were strewn across the floor as books lay piled in every nook and cranny they could fit.

This was her. The real her, not some stuffy, uptight teacher in front of a classroom. This room represented the woman in my arms, and I had a feeling not a lot of people saw the real Aspen Kavanagh.

I carried her to the bed. Once she’d been placed gently on her back, she smiled up at me and lazily kicked off her fuck-me heels. When she reached out with both arms, I was drawn back in. Without thinking of consequences or morals or rules, I climbed on top of her and crushed our mouths back together.

Unlike most of the guys I knew, kissing wasn’t just some pre-show for me to get a girl ready for the big event. Kissing was its own affair. I’d been known to do nothing but kiss a girl all night, until she was the one begging for something else. I could do it until my lips were numb and it was impossible to tell whose tongue was whose.

Finding a girl who kissed just right was like a goldmine. And Aspen Kavanagh was the goldmine of all goldmines. She sighed into my mouth, her body warm and pliable. I buried my fingers into her hair, ruining the tempting way she’d fixed it.

I have no idea how long we kissed, our mouths mating and forging a bond that went far beyond mere physical companionship. But when she found the hem of my shirt and skimmed her fingers up my abdomen, I was more than willing to repay the favor.

“You’re so hard,” she murmured, the awe in her voice killing me.

“And you’re not even touching the hardest part.” I grinned as my lips found her jaw, then worked their way down to her throat while my fingers explored under her shirt.

“Feels so good,” she murmured just as her hand went limp and flopped onto the mattress beside her.

My tongue paused on her pulse as my gaze darted to her fallen hand.

“Aspen?” I glanced up to find her eyes closed and lips parted, her face canted away.

The woman had passed out on me. My body screamed in denial while a far distant part of my brain tried to tell me this was a good thing. But I agreed more with my poor, throbbing body. This sucked.

“Jesus.” Beginning to tremble, I rolled off her and landed on my back. Wiping my hand over my face to cool my heated skin, I blew out a breath before counting to twenty in my head.

Then I craned my face around to check on her. Yep. Still out cold.

This had to be a new low for me. I’d taken advantage of a drunk girl until she’d passed out in my arms. And not just any drunk girl, but the most forbidden one I could ever want.

My dick throbbed in my jeans, pinching painfully as it crowded against the back of my zipper. After readjusting myself, I glanced toward Aspen to check on her again.

Well, at least
she
looked at peace. For the life of me, I could not get my body to calm down. My hormones continued to rage, and watching her dewy lips part as she breathed did not help.

Twisting my head the other way, I scanned her room for something to divert my attention so I could combat the lust once and for all and be on my way. One of the paperbacks on her nightstand caught my eye. On the cover, a bare-chested, long-haired dude leaned over to hover his face into the plunging neckline of some chick in a big, frilly dress. The title was something about denying a Highlander.

A smile cracked my lips. I bet she didn’t teach about these kinds of novels in her classes. I reached out and flipped the cover around to study it a little more fully. The woman lying next to me was a romance junkie. Strange. I hadn’t been able to detect that during any of the classes she taught. She seemed so clinical and profession when teaching, I never would’ve guessed she had a daydreamer inside her.

Turning back, I studied her passive face as my chest filled with sympathetic pangs. Things started to add up. Her asshole parents had never taken her to a carnival. They hadn’t given her a proper childhood, but they had probably pushed her in school until she was skipping grades and excelling in education. I couldn’t picture her with a lot of friends if she’d always been the freak genius girl. And if the fucker who’d hurt her when she was fourteen was any clue as to what her life had been like, she hadn’t felt very loved or protected. She’d probably been alone a lot.

And yet she read romance novels until the corners were frayed and worn. She still hoped for some kind of happily ever after.

She was so much like me it was frankly freaky. We were split between two worlds. She was the frumpy, genius professor hiding romantic hopes and dreams. I was the stud playboy football star working my ass off to save my poor, broke family. What a pair we made. And what an ass I felt like. She wasn’t just some piece of fruit I wanted to sample because she was forbidden. She was a lot deeper than I had ever imagined.

Slowly, I reached out until I barely touched her cheek. She sighed in her sleep and rolled onto her side facing me. When she found my warmth, she snuggled in close. I wound my arms around, hugging her against me, and she ended up with her cheek on my chest and her arm wrapped around my waist.

It was sweet and comfortable and so damn agonizing to lay with her like that, I ended up kicking off my shoes and burrowing in, closing my eyes and burying my face in her hair.

We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, and I couldn’t remember a night I slept so soundly.

CHAPTER THIRETEEN

“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps today of its strength.” - A.J. Cronin

~ASPEN~

My head felt like it was going to explode.

Rolling toward the heat source that had kept me cozy all night, I curled my legs up, expecting to find something solid and tangible radiating warmth and shelter. But all my fingers found were cold, empty sheets. Wrinkling my forehead, I winced when little axes in my head hacked at the interior of my temples. With a groan, I buried my face further into my pillow to block out the light flooding my room.

Inhaling a new smell, something spicy and masculine, I breathed in deeply, wondering where such a lovely scent had originated and what it was doing on my pillow. Until I remembered...

Noel Gamble. In my car. Driving me home. Then Noel Gamble. On my bed. Kissing me. With tongue. His hand between my legs.

Dear God, I’d kissed Noel Gamble and led him straight to my bedroom. I’d arched under him and begged him to— Oh, God. This was bad.

Already fearing the worst, I jerked upright, opening my eyes and checking out the other side of my bed, knowing I’d find him there. But when I found nothing but more sheets and a smashed pillow, I felt disappointed and disheartened.

My head pounded, and I swayed dizzily.

That’s when I noticed the glass full of water on the nightstand next to a bottle of aspirin with a folded sheet of white paper propped against them.

Groaning as my headache roared back to life, I swiped up the note

“There ain’t no sin and there ain’t no virtue. There’s just stuff people do.” - John Steinbeck (From
The Grapes of Wrath
).

Hey. I just wanted you to know you did nothing wrong last night, and there is no reason to regret anything that happened...like I know you are. But don’t sweat it. We could have done so much more. I know the right thing to do now is probably apologize for not stopping you immediately when you drunk kissed me. Except I’m not sorry at all. It was...amazing. Really, don’t sweat it. Everything will be okay. Just take care of yourself. Drink the whole glass of water and don’t take more than three pills. If you need anything, call.

N. G.

I soaked in his phone number he’d scribbled in at the bottom of the page, memorizing it even as I commanded my eyes to look away.

But, oh wow, he’d left me a sweet, considerate letter. And his words actually worked. The panic I’d been experiencing a split second after waking up unwillingly drained from my system.

We hadn’t done anything that bad after all. Or had we and he just wanted to sugarcoat it? Shit, I couldn’t remember much of what had happened, but Noel seemed to think we were still in the clear, so I refused to get worried.

Except all day long, little puzzle pieces of my memory kept returning, reminding me of some of the things I’d said to him. I seriously couldn’t believe I’d squeezed his arm at the bar and asked if women liked to clutch his muscles while he had sex with them. No, I must’ve dreamed that one up. I don’t care how wasted I’d been, I would never say—

Oh, God. I had, hadn’t I? This was so horrifying. How was I supposed to show my face in class again? How could I even step foot on campus?

As Sunday progressed, I kept biting my fingernails and glancing at the phone, just knowing some university administrator was going to call and fire me.

Then another memory would plague me, like the one where Noel Gamble had picked me up, and I’d wound my legs around his waist while he’d kissed me senseless against a wall. Or when he’d rubbed me through my panties. My stomach heated and thighs turned rubbery. Even as vague and blurry as the memories were, they had the power to stir me until I was a hot, wanton mess.

I knew I should be utterly embarrassed and scandalized. I’d just thrown my code of ethics and morals out the window, and I’d chosen one of the biggest playboys on campus to do it with. I
was
appalled at myself. Kind of. All the flattery kept choking out my honorable thoughts, though, because I was utterly thrilled that Noel Gamble, the guy who turned me on like no one else, the man who’d charmed me with his literature essay and entrusted me with his biggest secrets had actually
wanted
me. He could have any girl on campus—prettier, younger, and more fashionable with a personality much more lively than mine.

Wait. Noel Gamble
could
have any girl he wanted. So why had he chosen me? I wasn’t all that and a bag of potato chips.

With a dreaded gulp, I pressed my hand to my chest and tried to combat the sinking feeling dropping heavily into my gut. This didn’t have anything to do with that essay he’d written, did it? Because he now had insurance that I would never spill his secret to university administration. I’d be fired for sure if anyone found out I’d fooled around with a student. There wasn’t any such regulation for students. Just for faculty. If I even thought about telling anyone about his false high school GPA, he could wave
this
in my face; it would get me kicked out of Ellamore just as surely as if I’d had sex with him.

And smart Gamble, he hadn’t even had to lower himself to go all the way with me.

God, was that messed-up thinking or what? Was I honestly
insulted
because he hadn’t taken complete advantage of me in my inebriation? What was wrong with me?

Probably that note. He hadn’t sounded like some conniving bastard who only wanted to cover his bases. He had sounded like he cared. That note had been sweet and concerned, trying to help me through my guilt. He knew exactly how I felt, and I loved that.

But crap, wouldn’t any guy who wanted to play into my good graces, say something sweet and seemingly concerned like that?

Okay, I had to stop thinking about this. It was driving me crazy. And all it was, was speculation. There were no good, hard facts to prove any part of last night had been genuine. Or false.

But thinking about them just being an act was depressing because the parts I remembered had been so amazing. I’d gone to that bar hoping to connect with someone, have a decent conversation, and if my stars aligned right, maybe have a decent make-out session. And I had. I’d gotten all of that.

It’d just been with the wrong guy.

Speaking of which, Philip didn’t call all day Sunday. The jerk. But that didn’t even faze me. In fact, it was a relief. I was a little too freaked out about my worrying whether I’d still have a job the next day to bum out over the fact I’d been stood up last night.

The universe must’ve thought I hadn’t had enough to worry about, though, because I did receive
a
call before the day was over. My parents’ housekeeper, Rita, rang me. She knew my mother was currently giving me the silent treatment; she’d had to field calls the few times I’d tried to contact either of my parents. So it made perfect sense when she said, “I’d probably get fired for calling you if anyone found out, but I thought you should know. Your father’s developed a nasty case of pneumonia. His doctor admitted him to the hospital this morning.”

I’d always had an iron stomach, but all the alcohol I drank the night before suddenly tried to make a reappearance. Nausea rising, I slapped my hand over my mouth before lowering it to demand, “How bad is it? What hospital? I think I can make it there by nightfall. Are they letting in visitors?”

“No, no. Please don’t come. If you show up, they’ll know I called you.”

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. My instincts were screaming at me to hop into my car and see how my father was. But I didn’t want Rita to lose her job. She’d always been the mother I’d wished I had. She’d been kind, or at least as kind as she could be without risking her own neck in the process. She had slipped me food when they’d locked me in my room for too long, but that was as far as she’d go. She’d been widowed with three children of her own to take care of. She couldn’t put too much effort into caring for me. And I understood that.

“I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Rita’s hushed voice filled my ear before the line clicked, going dead.

I nodded but didn’t lower my phone as I stood there. What if my father died before I ever saw him again? What if he died before telling me he loved me?

What if he didn’t love me?

Though I knew it was a fruitless effort, I called the hospital. They could tell me nothing, except that Richard Kavanagh was indeed checked in as a patient. I debated calling my mother, but she’d probably catch on that I knew, and Rita would get into trouble, so I slept badly, checking my call history every hour to make sure I hadn’t missed any incoming messages in between stressing about how long it’d be before I was fired from my job.

I felt worse when the alarm woke me Monday morning than I’d felt from my hangover the morning before that. My father’s heath, my employment uncertainty, and Noel Gamble were going to give me an ulcer; I just knew it.

But not a single wrinkle marred my work outfit. My suit jacket was loose enough to hide my girlish frame, and my skirt was long enough to be staid and professional. I looked the same as I had every morning I left before work. My mirror could detect nothing out of the ordinary. I’d even amazed myself by successfully covering the bags under my eyes with makeup. But I still had an uneasy sense as I walked from my car to the English building that I was making the walk of shame.

Everyone who looked at me would know exactly where I’d had my mouth only two nights ago. They’d glance into my eyes and see me slipping my hands over Noel’s biceps and into his hair. I’d open my mouth and my voice would reflect all my guilt and shame. I had kissed a student and taken him to my room, into my
bed
. Just thinking that in my head felt so bizarre and unreal. I was not that person. I would never do that.

Yet I had.

I fully understood all the paranoia was just that, junk in my brain I couldn’t shove out. But when Dr. Frenetti popped his head into my office first thing before I’d even taught my first class, I squeaked out my alarm and nearly peed my pants as I leapt to my feet.

“I just checked Gamble’s current grade online. Looks like he’s doing better already.”

Hearing Noel’s name right out of the gate like that didn’t help my anxiety. Heartbeat whooshing loudly through my ears, I could barely hear myself answer after I cleared my throat. “Y-yes, he...he did very well on the make-up paper I let him turn in.”

The dean lifted an eyebrow. “And he actually earned it?”

I blinked. What the hell kind of question was that? “Of course.”

Smile a little gloating, Frenetti gave a knowing nod. “That’s what I thought. He just needed a little time to warm up to the curriculum. I glanced over your syllabus, and it did look pretty strenuous.”

I turned my attention to my computer to keep from rolling my eyes. “Yes, well...it took a pretty intensive one-on-one session to finally get through to him.”

My face heated as soon as the words left my mouth. God, did that sound like a sexual innuendo or what? All I could think about was the intensive one-on-one session we’d had Saturday night. In my bedroom. But my supervisor didn’t seem to notice any naughty meaning behind my words. He nodded, pleased. “Good to hear it.” Then he disappeared before I had to bumble my way through any more mortifying dialogue.

Beyond grateful it wasn’t a Tuesday, so I wouldn’t be teaching
his
class, I skimmed over my lesson plans for the day until I was almost late to class. Yet still, I felt utterly exposed when I stepped in front of the room. Eyes turned to me, and I knew—just knew—they’d see everything. Know everything. Each time a pair of students leaned toward each other to whisper conspiringly, I knew they were talking about what I’d done. Every unexpected abrupt noise had me leaping out of my skin. And every dark-haired guy I saw had my insides jarring with an instant adrenaline rush.

I hated it. This was too much drama, and I was
not
a drama seeker. My muscles were so tense by the time I finished teaching for the day, I took a handful of painkillers as soon as I retreated to my haven. Leaving my office door open, I collapsed into the chair behind my desk and closed my eyes, relieved it was over. I’d survived one day, and no one seemed to know a thing.

“I would so not make it as a spy,” I muttered to myself.

Covering truths and pretending everything was fine and dandy wore the snot out of me. Like a ragged, limp doll, I just sat there, trying to recover my scattered senses.

And then someone tapped on my doorframe, giving me heart failure.

I yelped out an embarrassing girl-scream and jumped to my feet.

“Sorry.” Raising both hands in apology, Philip stepped into my office. His eyes begged forgiveness as he cringed. “It’s just me.”

I sank back into my chair, setting my hand over my heart. Wow, did I need to relax or what?

Seating himself across my desk from me, Philip drew in a deep breath before asking, “So, how much trouble am I in, and what can I do to get you to forgive me?”

Huh? Forgive
him
? “For what?” I asked dumbly before it hit me. Oh, Lord. I’d lost it. The date, of course.

“For Saturday?” he asked, looking uneasy. Then he gave a nervous laugh and shifted in his chair. “You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. I know I was unforgivably rude for not even phoning you, but something came up and I was called out of town, and...” He looked to be all out of excuses. The helpless expression remained as he finished, “What can I do to make this up to you?”

I was already shaking my head and waving my hand before I began talking. “Really, it’s okay.” I mean, I had my own guilty burden at the moment. Who was I to be holding anything against anyone else? “I’m sure your...uh, situation was unavoidable.”

Plus I kind of felt bad about already forgetting our date that never happened.

He blinked and straightened his back. “So...you forgive me? Just like that?” He arched an eyebrow and sent me an untrusting glance. “Really?”

His perplexity was adorable. I laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I could give you twenty lashes, but whips and chains aren’t really my thing.”