To Professor, With Love (Forbidden Men 2)

He rested his elbows on the bar to lean in toward me. “Maybe because I don’t need a PhD to read minds like you do, Professor.”

Something molten, hot, and way too yummy swirled through me as I recalled the conversation we’d had on campus over a week ago. I loved it when someone remembered something I’d said to them and referred to it weeks later. It meant he’d paid attention and soaked in just enough to carry a part of me away with him.

Resisting the urge to shiver and sway toward him, I grinned. “That or you have amazing deductive reasoning.”

He chuckled. “Or that.” Straightening away from the bar to toss his white hand towel over his shoulder, he picked up my empty bottle and pitched it toward the trash. The sound of breaking glass followed, making me shudder.

“You’re wearing more makeup than you ever do in class,” he finally said. “Your hair is all pretty and tempting. Your dress is flirty and seductive. You smell good enough to devour.” Once again, he leaned forward onto the bar so he could see down on the other side and get a peek of me feet. After he glanced at them, he looked up again, and our eyes were only inches apart. “And you’re wearing the most tantalizing pair of fuck-me shoes I think I’ve ever seen. Add that up, and it spells date.”

I drew back aghast, but more aghast by the way my nipples tightened at his words. “Fuck me shoes?” I’d heard that term once or twice before. But no one had ever accused me of wearing a pair before. It made me feel alive. Warm. Dangerous.

Wanton.

Giving the source of those rampant feelings all my attention as he slid back to his side of the bar, I said, “And here, all I was going for was kiss me silly and mess up my hair a little.”

Noel shook his head. “Trust me. From a guy’s point of view, they shout a very definite fuck me. Hard. Maybe even in the backseat because waiting until you went inside to find a bed would take just too…long.”

The image he painted should’ve freaked me out. In the backseat with a date was where my darkest nightmares had originated. But hearing Noel describe it, with his hot voice and his engaging blue eyes pinned on me, I only grew more aroused.

Wow. But seriously, wow. That’s definitely what my shoes meant now. For him.

What? No. That’s not what they meant for Noel Gamble. Not at all. But, still. Wow, it kind of was.

God, he had me so confused right now.

How much had I drunk?

Managing to act a lot less scatterbrained than I was feeling, I lifted my chin and murmured, “Hmm. Thanks for the heads-up. I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t show then. I’m not sure I wanted to go quite that far on a first date.” Then I couldn’t help it, I added, “with him,” and the way I looked at him made it clear I might not have been so discerning on a first date with a certain someone else.

“Damn.” His lips parted and cheeks began to look a little flushed. His heavy-lidded gaze traced me and made me ache because he looked almost...tempted.

God, I was in so deep right now. Unfortunately, I loved the sensation of drowning in his presence. I never wanted this moment to end.

***

"Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is." - C. S. Lewis

***

~NOEL~

My control was slipping. I swear I tried to remain a gentleman, but inappropriate things kept slipping out of my mouth, and then she’d come back with something just as—

Damn. I was almost relieved when I was called away from her because anything I would’ve said to Dr. Aspen Kavanagh next would’ve been an unmistakable, totally inappropriate proposition. Hell, I probably would’ve gotten down on my knees and begged for a piece of her.

Fortunately, The time away cooled me enough to keep my sanity. But I still returned to her as soon as I could.

It was winding down to one thirty and the closer it drew to closing, the more restless I grew. Once the bar shut down, she’d have to go, and our night would be over. I dreaded that.

“I thought you guys didn’t win the national championships this year,” she said an instant before her light fingers grazed my forearm.

A shudder racked me as I felt her caress explode out every pore of my being. She’d barely touched me; I should’ve barely felt it. But I did. I felt it more than the time I’d been sacked during playoffs and had ended up in the hospital with a concussion. Her fingers set off a live, electric current through every nerve ending inside me until I was so hard my dick throbbed in synch with my heartbeat.

We’d never had skin-to-skin contact before, I realized. And I had to say, the first impression of my bare flesh against hers was, shit…intense.

This woman, right here, was dangerous.

Her gaze lifted as she waited for my response, reminding me what had caught her focus in the first place: the stupid-ass tattoo on my forearm.