“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.
All the same, it was clear that no matter how he felt about me on the inside, he wasn’t going to make a move.
Clearly, Professor Marks was a man with a life.
And I was a woman with a life of my own.
So, why couldn’t I get him out of my head?
6
Will – Saturday
I cursed myself – again, I’d managed to be caught in a situation with Eden Cooper that I would have done anything to avoid. She had been there, right there, so fucking close that I could have reached out and grabbed her, and of course, I had.
I’d dug my fingers into the soft skin of her waist, into her curves, and righted her, kept her from falling onto that ripe, round ass.
Saved her.
Fuck, I wished that I hadn’t been there.
Just the look on her face – both aroused and wounded, like she was just waiting to see what I’d do next – had been enough to make my blood pump hot and lustful through my veins.
Not to mention, I’d been a complete asshole to her. She’d caught me off-guard, and I had been a dick. I’d spoken harshly, made her regret even running into me in the first place.
No wonder she’d turned tail and skittered away like a wounded deer.
God, I was fucking stupid.
I kept replaying the moment in my head all the way home. After she’d run off, part of me had wanted to hang around the store, wait to see if I bumped into her again, even apologize.
I couldn’t have done that, though – it would have violated everything that I was working so hard, so desperately to protect. I wanted her, and if we talked again, I had a feeling that my face would give it all away. It was already a struggle to stay stoic and upright and cold in front of Eden and her sweet, lush body.
I wished that we didn’t live in such a small little college town. I wished that we lived in a big, anonymous city where I would be free to go out and engage my interests with things other than ripe, curvaceous college students. If we lived in a city, I could even go to a fucking book club or something, just to find women to fuck.
I wouldn’t be reduced to this sniveling mess.
My hands clenched the steering wheel of my car as I drove home, my backseat loaded with wine and cheese. I had been planning to go to an open house down the street – a couple had just moved in with two young kids and they were hosting a party – at the time, the invitation had seemed like a good idea, like a place to maybe meet a woman my own age and stop obsessing over Eden.
I wasn’t going to go now, though. The thought of pasting a smile on my face and being friendly and charming was abhorrent. All I wanted to do was go home and be alone and forget about the entire fucking day.
And hey, that Cambozola isn’t going to eat itself, I thought as I glanced in the rearview mirror at the paper bags loaded with all of the food that I’d bought. I could picture it now: sitting in my leather armchair, relaxing with a glass of wine or ten and eating cheese until I made myself sick.
The perfect bachelor, I added silently, shaking my head.
Maybe I had been in the wrong to accept a tenure-track position at Oakbrook. Maybe I should have held out for a bigger school, a real university, somewhere I could blend in with the giant faculty and not stand out as an object of obvious desire among the students. It wouldn’t have been as picturesque or vintage, but maybe it would have been just fine.
On the other hand, maybe I would have been miserable there.
I was still thinking about it when I got home and unloaded the groceries into my house. There was a pile of work waiting for me and I glanced at it meaningfully for a second, then promptly ignored it and carried my food into the kitchen.
Thoughts of Eden were taking over my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d skidded towards me like she was ice-skating, her arms outstretched and shaking and the sweet little yelp she’d emitted when she’d crashed into my waiting body.
I could have just let her fall.
I could have acted like I hadn’t seen her careening in my direction and left her there, waited for the crash, then snuck out of the store like a coward.
As obvious as it sounded now, those thoughts hadn’t even occurred to me at the time. All I had been able to do was stand there and wait to touch her, wait to put my hands on her soft body and capture her and hold her.
I sighed hard. All of the promises that I’d made to myself in the prior days had flown out of the window, meaningless as bird tracks in the snow.
Staring down at the cheeses, I groaned. I wasn’t hungry now ... well, not for food.
I was hungry for Eden Cooper, and I had no fucking clue what to do about it. No matter how often she kept giving me those fuck-me eyes, I couldn’t act on it. She was a student, practically a child for fuck’s sake, and she didn’t know what she wanted. She wasn’t capable of knowing – she was too goddamned young. She didn’t have the life experience to decide what kind of man she wanted.
I would have bet anything that she was a virgin.
That thought alone should have turned me off: I wasn’t the kind of man who fetishized virginity or inexperienced women. I loved a woman who knew her way around a man’s body, knew her way about the bedroom.
But my cock was throbbing, and I realized with dismay that I could think practically anything about Eden and still want her.
Fuck, I thought. As I made way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, I refused to think about what I was doing. I stripped out of my clothes, my cock catching on the band of my underwear and popping free, like a monster released from a cage. When I put my hand around my shaft and began to pump, I groaned out loud. It felt so good – especially when I closed my eyes and pictured Eden’s sweet little poochy mouth wrapping around the head and sucking me with enthusiasm that more than made up for her lack of experience.
The water got hotter and hotter and I got under the spray, throwing my head back and picturing Eden’s ripe body. Naked, splayed out in front of me, her limbs spread and her tits quivering as her breathing came harder and harder. The hand on my cock turned into Eden’s and I grunted with lusty pleasure as I pumped it faster and faster. No doubt her pussy would smell like the sweetest musk, all honey and nectar, and she’d blush when I buried my face in her nether lips and sucked her clit. I pictured myself reaching a hand up and groping her tits, pinching and playing with her nipples until she cried out with pleasure.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, thrusting harder into my own hand. It was so easy to picture, Eden lying back and taking me. Eden, pushing me onto my back and riding me like a champ, undulating her body sensually on top of mine. She’d whimper and beg and moan and scream my name, bucking wildly as an intense orgasm overpowered her sweet frame.
God, I wanted her so bad. I grunted again and with my free hand, cupped and toyed with my balls until I felt my cock explode with hot cum, gushing powerfully into the shower.
The orgasm hit me like a huge wave and I was gasping and groaning, thrusting hard and pretending that I was filling Eden with my seed as I did so. She’d be so ready, be so willing and waiting and hot and wet and ready for me.
In that moment, I wanted her so bad that I could have actually wept.
When it was over and my heart rate was slowing back to normal, a wave of anger and guilt washed over me. How had I done that, gotten in the shower and jacked off like a teenager, pretended that Eden Cooper was riding my cock?
Setting my mouth in a grim line, I washed my hands and then turned off the shower.
I had done it – and there was no going back.
I just had to vow to myself that I’d never, not under any circumstances, do it again.
And now, I had to get over Eden.
No matter what.
7
Eden – Monday
Like most of the human race, I hated Mondays. I always had – there was just something about the very word that
put me off and made me wake up in a bad mood. Growing up with a single mom, Mondays had been especially rough. Mom and I would spend weekends doing things together, usually cheap stuff like checking out local art festivals or strolling through the farmers’ market. School hadn’t ever been fun for me, at least not until I got old enough to take AP classes in high school – calling me an outcast would have implied too much effort on the behalf of my fellow students, but I had never, ever been popular (despite copious trying in my younger years).
And weekends had been an escape from all of that. Mom had always treated me as an adult, as her equal. Maybe it was because she herself had always longed for adult interaction since she and my dad had split when I was little, but it was what I’d come to expect from all adults. I recalled an incident from daycare when I was a kid, where I’d said “no, thank you” to a spoonful of mushy vegetables at lunch time and then been indignant when the worker had given them to me anyway.
Mom had never treated me like that ... well, not most of the time, anyway.
But all of my teachers had, not to mention the workers at the daycare where I’d gone until I’d turned eleven. And Monday mornings had meant waking up and realizing that I had no place in the adult world after all, that I had to go and participate and be a kid, which I’d always hated.
In college, Mondays weren’t much better. Not because I’d been out partying and drinking all weekend like a lot of kids, even Petra, but because I felt that old pain from years before coming on strong. I couldn’t shake it.
Sometimes, I wondered if I’d ever be able to shake it.
This Monday, though, I woke up almost relieved. I didn’t have a class with Professor Marks today, and that was probably a good thing. After literally running into him in the grocery store over the weekend, the last thing I wanted was to saunter into his class and talk about literature.
The Temptation: A Professor Student Romance (Forbidden First Times Book 6) Page 4
