To Professor, With Love (Forbidden Men 2)

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.