To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(32)

I wanted to drag her into the back and f*ck her senseless on the rickety old couch in the break room. From behind. I could already imagine how it would feel to bury my face in that naked nook on the back of her neck as I tugged up her skirt and slipped down her panties.

And now I was wondering what kind of panties my frumpy English professor was wearing.

Was she wearing panties?

Dear God.

“I didn’t say I was here on a date.” Her shoulders straightened in that haughty way they were so used to doing in class. But without the too-big shoulder pads of her outdated blazer hiding them, they looked too pretty when they hitched up in outraged indignation. Too sensual. Too f*cking hot. I wanted to put my hands on her. Bad.

But I smirked to hide my raging horniness. “Ah. So it’s girls’ night out…” Glancing around her to make sure she was alone, I added, “Without the girls?”

She locked her jaw and then took a quick drink. Damn, the way her mouth puckered over the head of that bottleneck was driving me insane.

Enjoying how easy it was to make her uncomfortable because she was making certain parts of my anatomy so very uncomfortable in return, I leaned forward to rest my forearms on the bar. “Or were you just looking to pick up a little strange for the evening?”

“Oh, my God,” she gasped and sent me a scowl to beat all scowls. “It’s a date, okay? I’m here to meet a date.”

I smirked in victory and gave a careless shrug as if it made no difference to me why she was here, even though the thought of anyone else kissing that exposed skin on her shoulder made me want to commit a felony of murderous proportions. “When were you supposed to meet him?”

She darted an uneasy glance around as she twirled a dark piece of hair around her finger. “I showed up a little early. That’s all.”

I nodded. So, the idiot was running late. Stupid-ass douche. I bet if he knew what she looked like right now, he would’ve been here hours ago.

“Hey, can we get a drink over here?”

When a pair of college guys waved to get my attention, I nodded toward them and straightened, sliding my gaze back to Aspen. I hated the fact I had to leave her, even for a few seconds. “Sure thing. Hang on a sec.”

***

“I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

***

Aspen



He kept coming back to me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I relished every little visit. I let myself dream that he wanted to be near me because he found me so irresistible and exciting. And with every beer I drank, that dream infiltrated itself into my system until I was downright giddy with it. He wanted me.

Even though he was serving a girl that looked as if she had to have a fake ID, and fake boobs too, his gaze roved to my end of the bar. He accepted his fee, barely glancing at her, even though she was making it obvious she was interested in him. Then he made his way back...to me. Watching him saunter closer was such a rush.

This was why I lingered here. I craved every time he was pulled away from me, just so I could watch him come back.

“Need another one yet?”

I shook my head. “No.” But as soon as the words left my mouth, I blurted, “yes.”

Noel grinned and another bottle of Bud Light Lime appeared in his hand. As he tugged the cap off and set it in front of me, I tilted my head just enough to make my hair spill over my shoulder.

“How did you guess I was here for a date?”

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 f*ck-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 f*ck me. Hard. Maybe even in the backseat because waiting until you went inside to find a bed would take just too…long.”