To Professor, With Love (Forbidden Men 2)

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.