To Professor, With Love(45)

 

My mother had slapped me before for saying something out of line, or she had shoved me aside for getting in her way. Girls I’d hooked up with had dug their nails into my ass when I made them feel good. My siblings had huddled close to me when they were frightened. Teammates had slapped my back in congratulations. But no one had ever touched me like this, with pure, honest affection as if they wanted to take care of me.

 

“You’ve been through so much,” she murmured, sympathy ruling her tone. “Have so much to deal with. I want to hunt down your mother and hurt her for what she put you through.”

 

I sniffled out a sad smile just as I pulled the key free of the lock. But I was no longer in such a hurry to get her inside...away from me. I forced my attention back to the front door, but I wanted to keep looking at her. Stare at her just like she was—soft, sweet, and a little vulnerable—for the rest of my life.

 

Her hand dropped from my hair only to land on my arm. Warm and soft, her fingers teased and seduced as they slowly trailed a scorching path down to my elbow.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I thought you were like him. But you’re not. You’re nothing like him.”

 

Say what? I glanced from her fingers on me and up into her eyes. “Like who?”

 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she sniffed and wiped her palm over her cheek, the move making her look like a little kid instead of an accomplished college professor. “He made me hate football players. Especially quarterbacks. He made me...he made me cold and lonely. Hollow inside. But you would never do that. You would never hurt anyone the way he hurt...”

 

When her words trailed off, a burning hot pile of anger uncoiled in my stomach.

 

“What did he do?” I coaxed softly. She didn’t answer. It only enraged and worried me more. “Aspen? Is he the one who…who raped you?” Shit. No wonder she’d always given me such a hard time. I reminded her of that.

 

I hated knowing I did that to her.

 

She turned to me and smiled softly. “You’re not like him at all. You’re...I don’t know. You’re something amazing.”

 

I choked out a harsh laugh and pushed her door open with a savage shove. “Yeah, real amazing. I’m dirt broke, barely keeping my football scholarship afloat and about to let down the three people I care about most in the world if I can’t keep my shit together. And let’s not forget how I cheated my way to get here...or remind you of the boy who raped you. There is nothing amazing about that at all.”

 

“Come here.” Aspen gently took my hand and led me inside her dark house. I followed. I have no idea why I didn’t even hesitate, but I went wherever she led.

 

Once inside, I reached out, fumbling until I found a light switch. When a pale glow brightened the corner of a tidy living room cast in shades of bright blue, I glanced at her just as she glanced back at me.

 

Framing my face with her hands, she looked into my eyes and said, “You are amazing, Noel Gamble.” Then she let out a drunk grin. “Geesh, I would’ve thought the star football player of the university’s undefeated team would be a little more cocky and sure of himself.”

 

I shook my head. “You grow up the poor, dumb kid of the town whore and your peers beat arrogance right out of you at a young age. Literally.”

 

She leaned in and rested her forehead on my shoulder. “But you have every right to be proud of who you are. You’re a survivor.”

 

The tight ball in my chest made it hard to breathe, and the way her soft fingers felt on my neck as they moved down from my cheeks and over my shoulders was doing a number on my dick. “Why?” I demanded, my voice a little too rough. “Because I know how to throw a ball?”

 

She looked up again. “No. Because you’re not just a pretty face in an empty shell. You love. You fear. You feel things so...so strongly.”

 

When one hand landed just over my heart, I sucked in a sharp breath.

 

It took everything I had to keep my hands off her in return. “Everyone feels, Aspen. Some are just better at covering it up.”

 

“But you feel good things. Might be a little rough around the edges, but you have a good heart. A compassionate heart.” Then she kissed my chest, right through my clothes and over my heart. It would’ve been so easy to bury my fingers in her hair, to tip my face down and inhale her scent. But I didn’t, no matter how much it killed me to restrain myself.

 

“Aspen, we should—”

 

She lifted her face, startling me as she gave a pleased sigh. “I love how you say my name.”