by Linda Kage
I rested my hands on the bar to catch my breath. It felt as if I’d just run a mile. And my skin was alive with this oversensitive prickly sensation. Jesus, I hoped I wasn’t breaking out into hives. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable feeling. It was too new to be cozy, but I craved more of it. I wanted to look at her again just to hoard up more of the rush that just looking at her gave me.
“So, did she pass your test?” Lowe asked quietly as he appeared at my side.
I hadn’t even realized I had been testing her until that moment, but hell, she’d passed. “With flying colors,” I uttered. Jesus. I glanced sideways at him, needing help. Seriously. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I shouldn’t—” What was I saying? I couldn’t confide in Lowe about this. The less people who knew, the better. But I kept blustering, because I was so damn rattled. I needed some kind of guidance. “We can’t—”
He patted my back dolefully. “It’s always the one you shouldn’t want that you end up wanting the most.”
With a lift of my eyebrows, I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. He just sent me a knowing grin and leaned in confidentially close. “But if she’s worth it, nothing else matters. You’ll find a way. And you’ll sacrifice whatever needs to be sacrificed to get there.”
Realizing he was talking about him and his girlfriend, I watched him thoughtfully as he turned away and stacked a couple dirty glasses into a tub to be taken to the back for washing. I swear he’d just given me his blessing to mess around with my freaking professor.
If she’s worth it, his words rumbled through my head. I sent her a glance, and everything perked to attention. No one had ever affected me the way this woman did. She stole the breath from my lungs with a single glance, and made me feel more alive and more aware of every sense I possessed than anyone I’d ever met. She could even piss me off more than anyone else had ever pissed me off before. She had a power over me that should’ve scared the shit out of me, but it only drew me to her harder.
“You seriously like being with just one girl?” I grabbed Lowe’s arm when he tried to pass by. “Monogamy, and relationships, and all that shit. Is it really worth it?”
He paused and lifted an eyebrow. After studying me thoughtfully for a moment, he grinned. “If it’s the girl, then hell yes.” Shrugging free of me, he took off down the hall toward the kitchen.
And I started toward Aspen without even thinking. I was halfway across the bar before I realized what I was doing. I was going to go after her, and I was going to make her mine.
But something on the television screen over the bar caught her attention. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes as if trying to hear what was being said. When her eyes widened and lips parted, I knew it was bad.
“What?” I demanded, stopping across from her at the bar and trying to crane my neck around to see the television.
The words on the bottom of the screen had my skin icing over with dread. Ellamore Sex Scandal.
I sliced a look to Aspen. When she met my gaze, her face was sheet white. So I scrambled for the remote under the counter. When I found it, I pushed the closed caption button.
ESU assistant volleyball coach, Vander Wilson, was fired this afternoon for having illicit relations with freshman volleyball player, Allison Belfries. According to allegations, Wilson and Belfries’s affair started early in the season and lasted until this week when Wilson’s wife caught the two together. But when Wilson tried to end the relationship, Belfries went to the head coach to confess everything. University officials dismissed him immediately and have declined to make a comment at this time. More on that later...
“I need to go,” Aspen gasped, jerking her purse off the bar as she hopped off her stool. “I can’t... This is... I’m sorry. Can I pay my tab now?”
I turned to her, already knowing what I’d see and dreading it. She wouldn’t even look at me. Her cheeks were stained with guilt and her throat worked as she swallowed convulsively.
“Aspen,” I started, ready to fight for her. But what the hell? I’d just decided she was worth it; why would the universe pull the rug out from under us like that?
“Don’t,” she pleaded, her voice strained and eyelashes damp.
I crumbled. Here, I’d been all prepared to argue our case. We weren’t like them. Neither of us was married; we weren’t being unfaithful. And if I remembered correctly, Coach Wilson was in his late thirties. He was probably twenty years older than Allison Belfries.
But the bleak, troubled, guilty gleam in Aspen’s green eyes reminded me our situation would probably be worse, actually. Volleyball wasn’t nearly as big of a deal at Ellamore as football was. And Aspen was actually one of my professors, responsible for giving me my literature grade. The media would make a hell of a lot bigger deal out of us than they would from some coach/player relationship. And it’d all fall back on her. She’d get the heat, the dirty names, the ruined future. She’d get everything, while I’d get off scot-free.
No matter how much I wanted her, no matter how amazing she made me feel, I couldn’t do that to her. The sacrificing part was all hers, not mine.
I hated that.
Taking a physical step back, I nodded my understanding and relinquished my fight to try to keep her. But God, it sliced me in two to let that hope go.
“Here’s your tab, Dr. Kavanagh.” Lowe appeared beside me, already back from his kitchen trip.
I knew he was probably trying to be helpful because he’d seen everything that had just happened. But his actions irritated me. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on between us. And even more, I didn’t want him to realize how much this fucking hurt. Showing my vulnerabilities pissed me off. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and punch Lowe in the face. Actually, any kind of violence to get this clawing sensation out of my chest would do. And since he was handy...
Aspen sputtered, her face coloring as she blinked at him. “You know...you know who I am?”
“My girlfriend and I take World Masterpieces,” he explained. Then he shrugged and gave her a bashful smile. “You’re actually her favorite teacher.”
She paled, but nodded and tried to smile back as she handed him a twenty to pay.
Lowe turned toward the cash register and sent me a glance as he did. But his gaze was unreadable, and I felt abandoned as he turned away.
Though Aspen stood just on the other side of the bar, she was suddenly unreachable.
We didn’t speak as we waited for Lowe to return with her change. And we didn’t look at each other. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she hugged her purse to her breasts. I folded my arms over my chest, frustrated because I could do nothing to fix this.
Lowe returned too soon. Now Aspen would leave. My mind whirled to come up with the perfection solution to fix this, but I had nothing.
After stuffing a ten in the tip jar, she spun away and hurried off. Without even saying goodbye.
I clenched my teeth and glared at Lowe.
He blew out a long breath. “Well... That sure sucked for you.”
With a harsh laugh, I shook my head. “Yeah.” Damn it. I still wanted to hit something. “I need a drink.” Yanking up the first bottle of bourbon I found, I flipped over a glass and splashed in a liberal amount. After downing it in one swallow, I hissed out a breath through my teeth, only to discover Jessie had actually come out of her office. She narrowed her eyes. I narrowed mine right back and watched her with a challenging arch of my brows as I poured myself another.
She pointed her index finger threateningly. “You’re paying for those, Gamble.”
After she turned and started for the exit to leave for the night, I glared after her. “No, I’m not.” Then I drank the next shot.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Dreams come true. Without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them. ” - John Updike
~ASPEN~
My cozy, two-bedroom, bungalow-style home sat in the middle of a street with trees in the front yards an
d kids’ toys in the back. Middle class’s version of the American dream. This was the first place I’d lived on my own, the first place I’d lived away from my parents.
I’d gained my freedom here. Within the first few weeks of moving in, I’d gone a little wild. Well, my version of wild, anyway. I’d painted my walls crazy colors like tangerine and robin’s egg blue. I bought towels and silverware that totally mismatched because they mismatched. I even went out and bought a bottle of wine to celebrate.
If only my parents had seen me then...
But that’s exactly why I’d done it, because I knew they’d disapprove. Well, that and because I’d loved those colors and I loved my mismatching menagerie of things, plus I really had wanted to do something commemorative to celebrate.
It was a small rebellion, but big enough in my book. Finally living for myself now¸ I cherished every little independent thing I got to do.
So, reading in the bathtub? Oh, you know I did that every chance I got. In the four months I’d resided in Ellamore, it had become my Saturday morning ritual. Besides, I really needed something this morning to get my spirits up. I’d felt depressed since Tuesday when I’d left Forbidden—and Noel—for good.
All my lavender-scented aromatherapy votive candles were set up around the rim of the tub and lit, casting a lazy splash of warmth across the walls of my bath, while mist from the heated water steamed up my mirrors and caused my pores to bead with perspiration. My feet rested by the drain while I propped my back against the other end, and the towel turban I’d used to wrap my wet hair also seconded as a nice cushion for the back of my head.
I’d kicked most of the bubbles to my feet because they’d been messing with my paperback—bad bubbles—but now that I was nearing a fairly intense and wildly physical part of the story, I was suddenly very aware of my breast floating just below the surface of the water. I slid my thighs past each other and shifted, wet warmth lapping my body as the hero’s tongue lapped over the heroine’s skin. Growing even more restless, I turned a page, anxious to find out what he was going to do to her next, because I had to say, the man was inventive with some of the things he liked to lick.
It reminded me of Noel Gamble’s tongue and how he’d glided it across my collarbone before he’d nipped at a freckle with his teeth. Swallowing when my nipples began to tingle, I shifted my legs again, rubbing them together to alleviate some of tension growing between them. But that only aggravated the situation more. In the novel, the hero’s hand wandered down a taut stomach and then between soft thighs, and I had to tighten my own together in response.
“You’re mine now, Isabelle,” he growled in her ear, his voice rough but his fingers tender.
Damn, why couldn’t some guy say cheesy crap like that to me?
But then an echo of Noel’s voice stirred my memory. “Want to hear a secret? I had a crazy-ass crush on you on the first day of class.”
A whimper left my lips and I slapped my book closed. The big m-word filled my head.
To help me recover from the trauma of my first sexual encounter, my therapist had suggested self-pleasure so I could learn that sex could also feel good, not just painful, scary, and debilitating. I’d been fifteen and utterly mortified by the entire conversation. Took me three months to look her in the eye again after that and then another three years to even consider the idea.
The few times I’d tried to get off by myself had been awkward and embarrassing. It hadn’t warmed me to the idea of sex in the least. The only thing that had worked had been time and romance novels. But right now, I wouldn’t be going at it cold turkey as I had before. My body was already receptive to the idea. Setting my paperback aside, I decided one more attempt couldn’t hurt anything. So I closed my lashes, and a face with blue eyes and dark windswept hair filled my head.
I’d only seen him once in class since I’d left the bar on Tuesday. And our gazes had clashed twice during that hour. Each time, we’d both glanced away as if even a single stare was too much temptation. It broke my heart not to even be able to look at him because Noel Gamble was art, like God’s apology for all the regular men in the world.
As my fingers found a sweet spot, I moaned and arched my back, upsetting the water along with every nerve ending in my body. While in my mind, I saw him, cheek pressed against my pillow as he lay beside me, whispering about the way I’d affected him the first time he’d seen me.
I came on a gasp, accidentally splashing water out of the side of the tub and snubbing out all the candles as well as drenching my poor book. But it was worth it. Oh my, was it worth it. Okay, nothing was worth damaging a hallowed book, even though at the moment, I was like, “I’ll jus’ buy another one.”
But, seriously. My first orgasm. It felt nice. Amazing. I’d never relaxed enough to allow the two guys who hadn’t forced themselves on me to ring my bell, and I’d always stopped prematurely when trying on myself. But with a little Noel Gamble stimulation and the drenched paperback beside me, life was good.
I should celebrate. With ice cream. Maybe some chocolate. And wine. Ooh, yes. Wine sounded good right now.
Energized instead of relaxed as my lavender candles should’ve made me, I pulled out the drain’s plug with my toes and stood up. Water streamed off me, making me feel raw and sensual. Sexy.
Mmm, I wondered if a good orgasm always made a girl feel beautiful.
Humming to myself, I shook my head to loosen the towel wrapped around my hair, and I used it to dry myself. And for once, I didn’t think of how much I needed to tighten my abdomen, or do something about the jiggle in my thighs. All self-critical thoughts I usually had when I was naked were blissfully silent.
Damn, why the hell had I waited so long to do this?
I laughed aloud. “Thank you, Noel Gamble.”
In answer, the muted sound of my doorbell peeled through the closed partition of my private bath.
“Crap!” I dropped my towel and dove for my clothes, wondering who the heck was at my door. I had ordered some new shoes online, but I swear the tracking information had said they wouldn’t arrive until Monday. But it was the right time for my mail to be delivered. And it wasn’t like I had any casual friends who’d drop by unannounced. Could be a door-to-door salesman or Jehovah’s Witness, but I figured it was probably the postal guy.
Not expecting to receive anyone who would be staying long, I bypassed my bra and tugged on my cotton panties before jerking on the cutoff blue jean shorts and a striped peach and cream long-sleeve I had sitting at the top of my laundry hamper. With my feet bare and hair still wet and uncombed, I flung open the bathroom door and hurried through the house.
I didn’t even think to check the window before receiving my visitor. I just unlocked all the bolts and pulled the entrance open, expecting a deliveryman’s greeting smile. When I saw Noel instead, I yelped out a startled gasp and jumped back, covering my braless chest with both hands.
The afterglow of my orgasm which I’m sure was still staining my cheeks fled to be replaced by horrified embarrassment. But, oh my God, had touching myself while thinking of him somehow drawn him to my house? What the hell kind of voodoo shit had been in those candles? I needed to buy more.
“I...” he started, opening his mouth wide as if ready to deliver some big long explanation of why he was here. But then his gaze shifted down and he left his mouth hanging open. No words came. The appreciation in his gaze as they traveled down my bare legs and back up stirred every organ in my body.
Now that my body knew how liberating and amazing release was, it was ready to experience another. And this time, forget the memory, I’d take the real deal: one Noel Gamble hand-delivered to my front door.
Which was totally, insanely wrong.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I exploded, pulling my arms tighter around myself because my nipples didn’t seem to care that the man in front of me could doom my entire career. Tight and pouted into hard points, all they wanted was to dive into Big O, Number Two. The selfish bit
ches.
“I...” he tried again, not getting much further this time because his gaze froze on my arms, where the skin had started to prickle into goose bumps. “Oh, fuck me sideways. You’re not wearing a bra, are you?” He glanced over my face before paling. “And you just got out of the shower, too.”
Keeping my girls securely covered with one arm, I released the other so I could push wet hair out of my face. “Bubble bath,” I corrected.
He whimpered, literally whimpered. Lifting one hand as if to command me to speak no more, he turned to the side so he wasn’t directly facing me and then covered his mouth with a fisted hand. “Jesus, you’re evil. Now I’m picturing you naked, covered in bubbles and surrounded by all these candles and shit while you’re reading a book.”
Damn, he was good.
“Don’t forget how incredibly wet I was,” I said because, hell, I always said stuff I knew I shouldn’t to this man. Why stop now?
He sliced me an incredulous glance. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
Backing away, he sank into the wicker chair on my front porch, exactly where I sat on Sunday mornings and drank my cappuccino while I read. It usually swallowed me whole. But holding Noel’s large frame, it seemed small and ridiculously girly. Making him look even more masculine than usual.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” he muttered to himself as he buried his face in his hands.
I swallowed, feeling slutty and evil for what I’d just said and torturing him more than I should have. But he was the one who’d come to me; he’d started this.
As much as I wanted to rail at him for stirring up the hornet’s nest of our chemistry, I couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d been driving over to see me while I’d been getting off to a picture of him in my head. The person I’d been craving had actually been wanting me back. He still wanted me now. It was thrilling and heartbreaking and so beautiful to know; I slid down in the opened doorway to sit and pulled my legs up to my chest, hugging my knees as I watched him struggle through whatever battle was going on inside him.