Cowboy Professor_A Western Romance Love Story

by Ivy Jordan

  “No, this is not okay. He looks terrible. He’s been moping around. He’s not going to any of his classes, and you’re treating him like crap because you don’t even know what happened.”

  “I don’t care. He bet on my virginity. Do you understand how important that is? He looked into my eyes and he told me that he wanted it to be special, while he was going behind my back.”

  “I think it was special.”

  I slapped her in the face—hard.

  “You’re not rooting for me, and you never have been.” The tears were coming now, flowing down my cheek, and we were both crying. She leaned back against the wall with her head down.

  “Ava, you know I love you. You’re my best friend, but sometimes, you don’t know what’s best for yourself, and before you explode—”

  “I am not okay with this. You have me trapped in here so you can induce a crying fit and manipulate me, and you wanna act like you’re a saint. You’re not. You’re too wishy-washy to be a saint. You don’t know what I should do. You just want to control me.”

  “He fought like hell to get them to stop. Sam told me that they made a throne for you out of beer cans and that they had to drag him away to keep him from killing them over it.”

  “He still bet on my virginity.”

  “Oh, give him a chance, will you? Do you really have to hate everyone?”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “You sure like to hit me a lot,” she raged, “and you won’t listen to reason. Half the time you know when I’m right, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  “You’re really informed about all this. You want to talk, start talking.”

  Something caught her, a dark thought, guilt maybe. I didn’t know what it was, but suddenly she was shaking with silent sobs.

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  I took a step closer. “You told them about me and Channing. You knew about the bet.”

  “No, of course not. You have to believe me. You must know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Then what did you do to me?”

  “He was keeping you a secret because he didn’t want the team to start talking about the bet. He was so worried that you’d find out. Mike, his best friend, he told Sam that he beat up Jason to get him to stay quiet, all because he wanted to save what you two had.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.” The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, so I closed them and pressed the stop button again.

  “It’s not like I went around planning to reveal your relationship to everyone. Sam just commented that Channing was acting different, and I said it was because of you. It wasn’t my fault, Ava. I didn’t know they were going to do this, and when I did find out, I chewed Sam out until he was ready to cry.”

  “You’re still gonna see him.”

  “The fuck I am,” she shuddered. “And you need to stop this crap. He attacked his own teammates over you. Sam said that they had to go the emergency room and everything. Ava, if that isn’t sincere, then I don’t know what is.”

  “He placed a bet.”

  “When he heard about the bet, he went on a tirade in the locker room and stormed out. He told them they were sick.”

  “Then why’d he do it?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “Doesn’t he at least deserve a chance to defend himself?”

  I laid my head back and let the sobs pass through me. I kept thinking about the way he looked when he came to confront me in the tutoring center. “Y-ou’re right,” I sniffed. “I feel terrible.”

  “I have tickets to the game.”

  My head shot up, and I looked at her. “A game?”

  “Not just a game, Ava: the game.”

  “Okay, I’ll go.” Nicole rushed forward to give me a hug. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She pulled back and wiped the tears off her cheek. “Come on. You gotta get some sleep.”

  “You’re right.”

  We took the elevator down to the ground floor, still sobbing, then laughing. Nothing could change what I did, or what happened, but I couldn’t deny him any longer. It was starting to hurt him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Channing

  I was laying on a bench in the locker room with scratches all up and down my arms, and calves burning so hot I could barely walk. I didn’t even care that everyone was looking at me, or that the coach was pacing around the room.

  “You really screwed up. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to run straight to the tutoring center and make yourself look like a complete idiot.” Mike was sitting across from me leaning in, rubbing salt and lemon all over my wounds while the rest of the guys got ready to roast me.

  “You think you could’ve at least waited a couple days? I told you so. I told you so. I told you so!”

  I sat up and stared at him, too exhausted to throw a punch, but that was exactly what he deserved. “I’m not sorry.” I laid back down.

  “Coach, you’re gonna have to bench him.” Jason had been on it all night.

  “You can’t throw,” he barked. “And you,” he pointed at me, “need to get your act together. I don’t care who you’re screwing or what she did to you. Man up and get that ball while there’s still time.”

  “You’re gonna be remembered as an epic failure.” Jason leaned in so I could see his face. “You’ll die alone and heartbroken, telling everyone about how great you used to be.”

  I flew up and threw him to the ground. Then I grabbed him the collar and raised my fist. “Just a few good hits and you’re done. I can do it. You know I can.”

  “You’re just mad because she’s all up on this…” He reached down to grab his crotch, and I slammed him in the face, once, then twice, again, and again. I couldn’t stop. It felt too good, knowing that in just a few seconds, he’d be done, and nobody would ever have to deal with him again.

  Something caught me around the waist, and I flew back. Three sets of legs were holding me down, Mike among them, and Jason was behind them, cowering in the corner.

  “You’ve lost it.” Mike stepped away. “You have everything. You don’t even need to get signed. You’ll have millions no matter what you do. Doesn’t matter how badly we want this. It’s all about you, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not easy!” I sat up and threw the guys off me.

  “Channing, you need to accept it. She’s not coming back.” Some of the other guys nodded in agreement. “But that doesn’t mean that your life has to stop. This used to be the only thing that you cared about, and it got you here. Now you lost your way. Maybe this is the best thing.”

  “Screw this.” I stood up and started to walk out. The men came after me and tried to call out to me, but I wasn’t having it. If I was just going to make a fool out of myself, then there was no reason to keep playing. I was going to take my seat on the bench where I belonged.

  I sat down, facing the field, with the lights shining down on me. Everyone could see me. They all knew what’d happened, and it was humiliating. I let my head drop into my hands, and felt the residue from the mace still stuck to my skin.

  I was out of the game, maybe even out of school. I was going to lose everything because I went against my principles. I deserved this; I really did. “God,” I whispered, “if there was just some way to take it back.”

  A hand rested on my shoulder and worked into the soft places, where I needed the most care. Then I felt lips graze my ear. “I love you.”

  My whole body was shaking. This wasn’t real. I jerked away and went back to sobbing. She was too good for me, too beautiful. I was just a dumb jock that threw away girls like they were cum rags. Nothing would change that. I couldn’t be more than the sum of my parts.

  Something grazed my shoulder, and I felt a swish of fabric pass over my skin. Then, she was kneeling in front of me, a tear flowing down one cheek
. “Channing, I am so sorry for doubting you. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I grabbed her by the neck and kissed her like I’d never kissed anyone before. She was there, beside me, and she loved me. “I love you so much,” I said again. “I need you in my life. Don’t ever leave like that again.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You promise me,” I said. “I can’t take that.”

  “I promise. They told me what happened at the frat house before I got there. I didn’t know. I thou—Channing, I-I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I helped her up, and we kissed again, once softly, another time with passion. Then with fury. The crowd was screaming all around us, and we both knew that our faces were up on the screen in the middle of the stadium.

  At some point, somebody’s hand rested on my shoulder. I pulled away and turned around to see a drunken coach standing side by side with Sam.

  “Nicole called Sam during halftime and told him I was here,” Ava said. “You’re not to see her again,” she told Sam.

  “I know.”

  “Good,” she added.

  “Enough. Are you ready to get back in the game?” the coach asked.

  “Yeah, I think I am.”

  “Good, hustle, and don’t you dare miss a single pass: you got that?”

  “Yes, Coach.” I ran back into the locker room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ava

  I was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling with the glare from the stadium lights still burned into the back of my mind. I didn’t think I could do it. I thought that I’d get too scared and walk out of the stadium, but Nicole and I both knew that we had to do something when we saw Channing on the field.

  I was certain that he was going to get hurt. Those men coming at him were as big as cows, and they were just pounding him into the ground over and over again. Every time he hit the dirt, I felt it like I was down there with him, and I was. He wasn’t moving because he thought I was gone, and he couldn’t think about anything else.

  I didn’t have any right to do that to him, not when I was starting to feel the same way. Nicole was the one to do it. I was too shocked. I hated myself. She picked up the phone and called Sam. He was keeping it in his uniform in case she texted. When he got her call, he answered right away, and things got so heated between them that Nicole had to walk away. Apparently, they were a lot more serious than she’d been letting on.

  When she came back, she had the coach in tow and he was yelling at me so loud I was certain that the rest of the stadium could hear us. He was mad, because I screwed over his best player, and I had no idea what I was doing. By that time, we were walking down to where he was sulking, so I tuned him out.

  All that mattered was Channing. He was the man that I loved, and there was no way I was going to live another day with that rift between us. When he saw me, he lit up, and I knew that I had made the right decision.

  The coach gave us special seats after that. We were the honored guests because we saved the day. Really, though, it was Channing. He was amazing. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him during that last play. The men spread out across the field, and he caught the ball and started running. Nothing could stop him. He was a force of nature, so fast—I didn’t know.

  People talked about him like he was the god of the race, but I thought it was just all hype. When I saw him, I was on my feet screaming at the top of my lungs. I was cheering him on harder than anybody. It was like meeting the man I loved for the first time. He needed the field, and the forest, and the lake. That was where he found peace. That was why he was there.

  We still didn’t know what was going to happen. When he won, the guys swept him up, and the crowd seemed to melt down into the field. After that, there was a neverending stream of interviews and speculation. He didn’t even have time to move, much less call. It didn’t stop the next day, either.

  He’d text and send me little hearts, and a million different houses and pictures of mountains and forests. I couldn’t stand it. That was why I couldn’t sleep. I’d been struggling the entire night. I still had finals to think about, but there was nothing, not one thing that could quiet his voice in my mind. He loved me. He wanted to be with me, and I almost gave that up.

  I turned over and closed my eyes. The lights were off, but the stadium lights were still there, and I could still hear him saying it. I tried focusing on my breathing, my inhale and exhale, as it flowed out and moved in. It shut out all my thoughts, save for that sweet whisper: “I love you.”

  I could feel myself slipping deeper, and sleep finally taking hold. Then I heard somebody knocking at my door, and I was out of bed running to answer it before I knew what was happening.

  Channing was standing outside the door wearing a tight blue shirt. “Hey,” he sounded awkward, almost shy.

  I ran out and pulled him into a kiss while he pushed backward, through the hall, past the dining room, and into the bedroom. When we reached the bed, he stepped back to get a look at me. “I don’t think that I could ever apologize for what I did to you, Ava. I’ve been beating myself up for it this entire time.”

  “Don’t. Neither of us knew what this would become.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, though. Things could change now that the NFL is looking at me.”

  “Channing,” I said, “no matter what, I’m here—with you. Nothing is going to change that. Nothing.”

  He pushed me down onto the bed and fell on me. His lips moved slowly, caressing mine, his tongue dipping through and pulling out while my hands ran down his spine. I wanted to feel him, his marble stature, his muscles and everything else beneath them—what made him what he was.

  That was what this about—discovery. Our hands were more important than our lips or our tongue. That was touch, affection, passion, sacred. His kiss was growing more frantic while one hand roamed up my thigh and the other cupped my breast.

  I was moving my hands down his back, over the curve of his hips where they rested, and I gave in to his kiss. He wasn’t satisfied with my mouth. He had to taste my cheek, my jawline, my neck. He planted a column down my throat and moved around my neck, back behind my ear.

  He was used to my body now. He knew that when he lifted up my shirt, I needed a shock, and that it helped a lot to have a hand cupped over my breast. Once that cold air flew in and wrapped around my stomach, his teeth dug into my neck, and a bolt of electricity traveled down my neck, over my shoulder, my breast. Then it hit my gut, and I could feel something throbbing between my legs.

  He looked up at me, like a child that’d just gotten a new toy, and he traced his finger down the side of my arm. With it, jolts passed down my body, a shudder fluttering over my stomach resting deep inside my core.

  He had a new trick. He lifted me up, pulled off my shirt, and threw it onto the floor behind him. Then he set me back down and slid his knees open so that he could sit up and straddle me. I couldn’t move. I was trapped, watching him biting his lower lip while his eyes darted from one breast to the other and his fingers started walking down my neck.

  The light pressure and his piercing gaze became a disarming presence. Something was coming. I knew it, and I was starting to panic, wriggling around and thrashing my arms, but that wasn’t going to help. He shoved his hand down my pants. It passed by my lips and struck a flame inside me.

  His fingers were walking lower, and he was pulling his hand back out of his pants, but all I could think of was the way he was looking down at me with a bead of moisture welling up in one eye and a curly strand of hair falling down his forehead.

  There was no game, no tricks. He was sliding down my body now, resting his chest on my own, and all that existed was love, closing the space between us, pouring in. His tender lips pressed to mine. The passion was a tangible force. It was his tongue, his hand resting on my side. His body pressed against mine, and now his cock was sticking up straight.

  It was resting on my stomach, pulling up and down over the sk
in, scraping, throbbing. His body was massive, it engulfed mine completely, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want to feel shame or self-loathing, and I didn’t want to have to think about the beating he took on the field.

  I just wanted to drown in him, let his arms wrap around me, and lose myself in his chest. It was warm and safe, the only place that I really felt like I could lose my worries and my inhibitions. He could make it all better, and he did. Every kiss was another wound closed, and his lips move slowly down my neck, planting one sweet blessing after another. It tickled when he pressed them against the place between my chest and my neck. I actually found myself laughing.

  He looked up at me and asked, “What is it?”

  “I-I love you, Channing.”

  “I love you too.” He reached up to kiss my lips, and once again, it was all falling away. He was cleaning me out, filling me with nothing but his sweet caress, his finger tracing down my side, and his hand reaching around my back.

  His lips moved down, over my neck, and his cock slid against my thigh, over my knee, while the hand moving down my side moved over my hips. I could feel the blood rushing into my nipples, and my skin tingling in anticipation.

  He grabbed onto the hook of my bra, pulled it open, and threw it aside, revealing my tender mounds, and the dark nipples sitting in their center. His hand reached back from around my back, and his finger began circling closer and closer to my nipple, a jolt that seemed to drag on and on as his finger flowed closer and closer. The moisture was building up between my thighs.

  His lips passed down, from one side of my neck to the other, then a kiss on the tops of my breasts. I was writhing. His hand was resting on the top of my thigh, and I could feel the pressure as it moved closer and closer to my throbbing lips.

  The pressure between my legs was starting to burn, and that burn was eating away at me, seeping through, staining my jeans while he lifted his head and stared down at my nipples. This was pure discovery. He wanted to know what would happen when he applied pressure to the tip, and when my head flew back, he had another spot to conquer, and another place for his tongue to ravage. But he wasn’t satisfied with that. No, he had to move on to the other, apply his newfound skill, and laugh when I cried out and he bit down, pulling at the skin with his teeth as he sucked my nipple through his sweltering lips.