Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection

by Sofia T Summers

  “Ms. Cooper,” I said coolly. “What can I do for you?”

  Eden gave me a shy, tentative smile and walked into my office. A gust of her perfume, soft and sweet, blew over me – so unlike the scent of cigarettes that clung to the kids who tried to be edgier and more adult. Maybe that was what I liked about Eden so much – she didn’t pretend to be anyone else other than who she really was.

  “I just have a question about the assignment,” she said. “And I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t overstepping.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her.

  This should be good, I thought to myself.

  “What is it?”

  Eden cleared her throat with a soft little gasp and sat down in the chair opposite my desk.

  “Well, I wanted to see if it was okay to reference other primary sources than what we’re covering in class,” she said.

  I nodded for her to continue.

  “Like ... um, I know we’re only doing Woolf and Faulkner, but I’ve read a lot of E.M. Forster and like, he and Woolf had such a different approach to modernism and like, I thought I could—”

  “Compare and contrast?” I asked her.

  Eden nodded. She flushed slightly and bit the inside of her cheek. Her plump, strawberry-pink lips were glistening with saliva and the sight made my balls ache with lust. I wanted her so bad just then – I wanted to pull her over my desk and spank that luscious, womanly ass of hers until she moaned. This is what you get for making me want you like this, I thought as I stared at her.

  “Well, yes,” she said softly. “But of course, at the appropriate level. I don’t want this to be like, a book report,” she said, giggling at her own joke.

  “I wouldn’t expect that,” I said.

  Eden looked rebuffed at my words. “So, um, is it okay?”

  I nodded. “For now, yes,” I told her. “But later on in the semester, I’d like you to draw your own conclusions.”

  A strange look crossed her face and she smiled. “So, you want me to approach the text like the author doesn’t exist?”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I told her. “That would be excellent.”

  Eden nodded. She got to her feet, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief that she was done. I was grateful that she hadn’t tried to flirt with me but I couldn’t lie – I was still incredibly turned on, and all I wanted was to be alone so that I could assure myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  “Good,” she said. “Thank you, Professor Marks.”

  I smiled tightly at her.

  She didn’t tear her gaze away and I could feel the hot sparks flying between us, the chemistry building in the dense air of my office. In the dim light of my banking lamp, Eden looked soft and sexy and I longed to run my hands through her unruly brown curls and over her pale skin.

  Fuck, stop it! I ordered myself. She’s a fucking student, for god’s sake!

  “If that’s all, I have some things to do,” I said curtly.

  Eden nodded quickly.

  “Thanks again,” she said, then ducked her head in a quick, submissive gesture that sent hormones flying through my body anew. When she left, I leaned my head against the back of my chair and groaned.

  She was driving me crazy. She was turning me from an intellectual man into someone who couldn’t control his basest urges, someone who wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off and suck her clit until she shook and moaned.

  God, she was fucking trouble with a capital ‘T’.

  I was as breathless and hot as if we’d actually just fucked, and we’d done little more than talk about literary theory.

  I wished then that I could fast forward to the end of the semester, that I could lean back and press ‘play’ and watch things unfold without actually having to interact with students or grade papers or do anything that would put me at risk.

  Eden hadn’t actually even done anything – she’d just shown up and asked a question, like the smart, normal student that she was. And furthermore, she didn’t deserve for me to have these kinds of thoughts about her. She was a girl, practically young enough to be my daughter, and it was my job to foster and nurture her.

  Not to fantasize about spanking and fucking and teasing her until she went red in the face with the lusty heat of it all.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.

  I was going to make sure that I’d never have another inappropriate thought about Eden Cooper again.

  If it was the last thing I ever did.

  5

  Eden – Saturday

  I’d had so many plans for the first Saturday of the semester – I’d even written them down in a little planner that I’d bought over winter break. Petra had teased me about it. “Everyone just uses their phones now,” she’d said, rolling her eyes and laughing when I’d made a show of buying a brand-new pen to use. “Why not just use that?”

  Because I sometimes wish that I didn’t live in the modern age, I’d thought. It was dumb, I knew, but sometimes I wished that I lived in an age with just notebooks and pens, before cell phones and texting and instant-messaging.

  But I couldn’t have said any of that, of course, so I’d just told Petra that I’d bought it because I thought it was cute, and because I thought that it would help me stay focused and organized.

  I had planned to get up early and go for a long run, something I’d never done before – on the day that I’d bought the planner, I’d bought leggings and a new t-shirt, noting with dismay that the largest size in the store was the only one that fit me, and even that was quite snug. I’d gained a lot of weight in college, no doubt thanks to the carb-heavy foods in the dining hall. While I’d always been a big girl, I could feel that my curves were getting out of control, and I wanted to rein them in. I wanted to be healthy.

  And ... I wanted men to look at me and notice me.

  Well, not just any men.

  Professor Marks, to be specific.

  I knew it was ridiculous, and I knew it was the kind of thing that Petra would rake me over the coals if she knew about it. So, I kept that to myself.

  But my morning wasn’t off to the most promising start. I’d set my alarm for nine but somehow forgotten the night before to actually turn the sound on, and then I’d woken up for the first time at ten-thirty, groaned, then rolled back over and fallen back asleep.

  Now, it was past noon and I felt sluggish and slow. To make matters worse, it was a grey, cloudy day outside – one of those days where the sky always looks like it’s threatening to rain. I groaned and rolled over on my belly, burying my face in the pillow and sighing.

  I knew I should get up and run – I had a brand-new athleisure outfit waiting for me, sneakers and all – but all I wanted to do was stay in bed. I pulled the covers higher and snuggled deep into my sheets, lying there until I had to pee so bad that there was an ache in my crotch.

  By the time I got out of the bathroom, it was one-thirty in the afternoon. Petra was in the kitchen, sitting at the island and eating carrots with ranch as she thumbed through a Vogue magazine.

  “Required reading?” I teased.

  Petra looked up and snorted. “What’s up, Miss Athletic,” she teased. “How was that run?”

  I groaned. “It didn’t happen,” I told her. “Like I’m sure you can see.”

  “If you want company, I could use some exercise,” she said, putting her magazine down and looking at me skeptically. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I told her. “Just lazy.”

  Petra nodded. “How about we put off running until tomorrow,” she replied. “We can go to the grocery store and load up on snacks and popcorn and shit, and come back here and watch Netflix.”

  I nodded. “That ... sounds a lot better than running,” I admitted.

  My best friend smirked at me. “I thought it would,” she said. “Go get cleaned up and we’ll walk over there. At least that’ll give us some exercise.”

  I went and showered, then changed into clean leggi
ngs and a snuggly, warm top that I loved because I didn’t have to wear a bra with it. By the time we left, the sun was sinking low in the sky and I shivered. I loved winter, normally – loved the snow, loved the cold, loved the sheer peace of it – but right now, I found myself wishing for sunshine and hot weather and green grass.

  It wasn’t that I was depressed – in fact, I felt the opposite. I felt restless, almost itchy under my skin, like I couldn’t wait for things to get moving. Besides, it was still a novelty – going to the grocery store and buying anything other than Cup Noodles and Easy Mac in those little Styrofoam cups. When Petra and I had moved in together, we’d promised that we’d do a lot of real cooking – I’d even bought cookbooks, as if to prove how serious I was. But the first week of classes had left me tired and busy, and right now I was in the mood for some serious junk food.

  “God, I hate winter,” Petra said as she looked up at the sky and visibly shivered. “Can’t you wait for it to be over?”

  “I like it,” I admitted. “I hate summer clothes, anyway.”

  The ground wasn’t quite frozen – it was almost slimy from the melted snow and ice over the dead grass – and we slipped and slid, perilously close to falling on our asses, bursting into giggles and clutching at each other.

  “See,” I said through a gasp of laughter. “It’s better that we didn’t go running today – I wouldn’t want my new shoes to get all muddy.”

  Petra laughed. “Right?” She slid in the muck again and squealed, grabbing onto my arm with both hands and nearly dragging me down with her. When we found the sidewalk, we righted ourselves and our laughter died down. The grocery store was on the other side of campus and by the time we got there, my nose was icy-cold and dripping with snot. I wiped it on a tissue buried in the depths of my pocket, then took a deep breath and charged inside the grocery store.

  The air inside was mercilessly hot, like the store hadn’t counted on the possibility of a single patron owning a coat. Petra and I shed layers and grabbed a shopping cart, throwing in our wet coats and prancing down the aisles like we’d never been there before.

  “Oh, these are new,” I exclaimed as I reached for a box of chocolate-chip cookies shaped like Hershey’s kisses.

  “Get them,” Petra said wisely. Her tone suggested that we were shopping for storm provisions rather than lazy-day snacks, and I stuck my tongue out as I tossed three boxes into the cart.

  We made our way through the store, grabbing popcorn and movie-theater-sized boxes of candy and ice cream (“hey, at least it won’t melt on the way home!”) and cheese crackers and chips.

  “Hey, wait here a second,” I said to Petra, just as she was pushing the cart into a line. “I think some kid spilled some juice on the floor or something.”

  Petra nodded, half-listening – most of her attention was gathered on the magazines displayed on the racks at the front of the store. In hopes of tracking down an employee who would clean it up, I speed-walked to the end of the store. Just as I was rounding the aisle, my shoe hit another puddle of spilled juice and I skidded forward with a loud shrieking yelp. My arms spun in windmills and I felt my stomach rising up, up, up in my body, like I was going to vomit. I could practically feel the hard, tiled floor coming up to meet my clumsy body as I skidded further and further, dangerously close to seriously eating it.

  Then, I collided with a pair of warm, strong hands. They gripped my sides and set me upright, saving me from a clumsy fate.

  “Oh my gosh,” I breathed hard, still panting. My heart was thudding from my near-miss and I could feel that my face was red and sweaty from a combination of the blasting heat and my overwhelming embarrassment.

  When I looked up to see who had rescued me, I nearly died.

  Professor Marks was standing there, with one eyebrow up in the air.

  “Professor Marks, I’m so sorry,” I breathed. My hands flew down to meet his just as he was about to pull away and for a moment, we were awkwardly entangled together. My heart skipped a beat, then started to thud even faster in my chest until I thought it would explode. My stomach was doing excited, nervous flip-flops and I had to swallow hard as I wiped my face with both hands.

  “Just pay attention,” he said, almost coldly. I could still feel the hot grasp of his hands around my curvy waist, still feel how he had clutched at me through the layers of my soft shirt and hoodie like I had been naked.

  I looked into his cart. It was the complete opposite of what Petra and I had selected for our girls’ night in – whereas we had picked candy and junk and carbs, Professor Marks had several fancy cheeses that cost more than what I made in a whole day’s shift at the bookstore. There were bottles of wine with French labels and cute little crackers in chic shapes and cured, aged meats.

  “Um, having a party?” I asked.

  Professor Marks gave me a strange look.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, flushing hard once again. “I’ll um, leave you alone now,” I added, backing away like I’d done something wrong.

  His eyes were glued to me and I realized that this was potentially the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me – running into a gorgeous professor who was wearing a perfectly-tailored jacket and pants while I was clad in unflattering sweats.

  “Sorry,” I said again in a voice barely above a whisper. When I was a few steps away from the professor, I turned and power-walked to the front of the store where Petra was waiting.

  “Did you get someone to clean that up?”

  “Uh, what?” I asked.

  “The juice,” Petra said. She looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “Jesus, Eden, what happened? You look like you just saw a ghost,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Yeah,” I told her. “I’m fine. I almost fell, that’s all.”

  Petra laughed, but it wasn’t an unkind sound.

  “Let’s get you home,” she said, pushing the cart into line. “Hey, you want to get some wine or something?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that the coast was clear.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked back to where I’d bumped into Professor Marks, almost hoping to see him again. What kind of wine should I get, I practiced asking in my head. What do you recommend?

  When I saw that he was gone, my heart sank and I felt instantly like a fool. Of course, Professor Marks hadn’t waited around to see if I was okay, or hear me ask about what kind of wine I should be pairing with movie-theater butter popcorn and Reese’s cups. No, he clearly had somewhere to be.

  It made me realize that I’d never seen a professor outside of a campus setting before, that he was a real person, with a life of his own. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling a twinge of white-hot jealousy as I thought about what he might be doing tonight, where he might be going. Was he headed to some chic party with other professors, to quaff wine and talk about books?

  Or did he have a date?

  I bit my lip in frustration and stared at the row of wine bottles.

  “Eden!” I heard Petra yell from the front of the store. “Hurry up, I’m checking out!”

  Without thinking twice about it, I grabbed two bottles of pink zinfandel and practically ran to the front of the store.

  Petra was waiting for me, managing to look both amused and slightly peeved.

  “What took you so long,” she teased as I set the bottles down on the conveyor belt. “Slip again?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I just didn’t know what kind to get, that’s all.”

  “This should be fine,” Petra said. She looked me over. “Are you really okay? You still look all flustered.”

  “I saw him again,” I said under my breath as I scanned the nearby registers, mostly hoping that Professor Will Marks wasn’t close enough to hear my remarks.

  And half-hoping that he was.

  “Who?”

  “Him,” I hissed. “You know. My professor.”

  Petra’s eyes went
wide. “Wow, an academic sighted in the wild,” she said. “That’s crazy – it’s like we went to the zoo.”

  I snorted. “Petra, that’s terrible. He’s not like, chained to his work.”

  She eyed me, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and I blushed hotly.

  “Isn’t he?” She asked. “What happened?”

  “I almost crashed into him and he grabbed me to make sure that I was okay,” I said.

  Petra blinked.

  “I know,” I practically moaned. “I’m so embarrassed!”

  My best friend smirked. “I bet,” she said. “I bet it was hot. What did he look like?”

  “ ... like he always does, in class,” I said. “He was buying wine. And like, expensive cheese.”

  “A professor to the end,” Petra said. She handed over her debit card and paid for our food, then we wheeled the cart out of the store and loaded ourselves up with the bags. The sky was dark and the parking lot was almost empty – wherever Professor Marks had been going, it was clear he’d already gone.

  “I was such a klutz,” I groaned. “I can’t believe it – he probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

  Petra sighed. “No,” she said. “He probably thinks you’re a kid.”

  I didn’t say anything – I couldn’t explain it, I didn’t have the words, but there was something Petra hadn’t seen. It wasn’t in the way Professor Marks had rebuked me to be more cautious, and it wasn’t even in the way he’d looked at me after.

  His voice and his tone had said that he didn’t want me.

  But his hands on my body, gripping me, holding me, had said otherwise.

  Not to mention the look in his eyes – he’d looked at me like he never had before.

  Like he’d realized that I was an actual person, and not just a student ... no matter how smart of one I happened to be. He was so intriguing: on the outside, he was cold and stern and distant, someone who wanted to make sure he kept everyone outside his bubble.

  It captured my interest. It made me want to be that person, that one person who could break through the barrier and get to know him – the real Professor Marks, not just the mask he put on for his students and the whole of Oakbrook College.