Forbidden Heat

by Jordyn White

  “I’m not asking you to!”

  He blinks at me. “I just thought... I shouldn’t be making exceptions for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  I sigh impatiently. “You’re right. It’s fine. It’s just that this isn’t my only class. I’m barely hanging onto an A in biochemistry, but I’m getting B’s in my other classes. B’s!”

  I’ve been acing my classes for three years, was on track for summa cum laude, and now I’m about to screw it all up at the eleventh hour. What the hell am I doing to myself?

  “Aside from blowing my summa cum laude out of the water, this semester’s going to be on the transcript going to Harvard.”

  “Sweetheart.” He puts his hands on my arms, but I’m too upset to be comforted.

  I put my hands over my face. What about my mom?

  “Honey, even if you get B’s in those classes, your record overall is amazing. And your GRE isn’t really a bad score, it’s just not as high as you want it to be.”

  I scowl at him. I don’t really care if other people think I’m being stupid about my grades and freaking out over a couple B’s, but Shane’s supposed to be the one person who understands.

  “It’s not as high as it could’ve been. Do you realize how hard it is to get into Harvard’s program?”

  “Honey...”

  “Oh! And I ran into stupid Justin Kirby in the hall. What the hell’s he doing over here, anyway? I never see him over here.”

  “Justin Kirby?” Shane’s eyes sharpen. “Did he do anything to you?”

  I impatiently tell him what happened and I can see he’s really alarmed and pissed about it, but frankly I’m back to thinking about my mom again. The chemo was so hard on her. What if she has to go through it again? What if it doesn’t work?

  Shane’s going on about Justin Kirby and how this can’t be allowed to continue.

  “There’s nothing to be done,” I say dismissively, not caring about stupid Justin Kirby.

  “Isabella, you should really talk to the dean,” Shane says in a firm voice.

  His tone gets my hackles raised. What, is he going all professor on me now? “No.”

  “Well, maybe I should report him then.”

  “Wait, what? What the hell?”

  “Isabella, he could be dangerous. Think about what he already did to you. If you don’t feel you can go to the dean, then maybe I should...”

  “Hey!” I’m fed up with this conversation and this day and with everything. “Don’t you dare pull rank on me.”

  “What? I’m not!” Then, raising his hands. “I’m not,” he says softer.

  “Look, I need to go.” I barge out of his office without caring if anyone sees me or not.

  Chapter 17

  Storming across the quad, I consider going to the pool to get some energy out, but I’ve come to associate being there with Shane and I can’t deal with it. Ultimately, I end up sitting on the couch in our apartment, diving straight into a container of ice cream. No one’s home and I don’t bother calling anyone. I just want to be alone.

  Twenty minutes later, Jack comes in.

  “Hey.” He surveys the scene. An open container of ice cream accompanied by a girl slouched low on the couch is never a good sign. “You okay?”

  I press my lips together, really, really not wanting to cry. Because if I start crying, I know myself well enough to know Jack’s going to end up hearing it all. I don’t know how he’ll react to my big Shane secret.

  “Hey,” he says again, softer, coming around the couch to me. “What’s wrong?

  My bottom lip is starting to quiver, and by the time he’s sits next to me and throws that big brother arm around me the tears are flowing.

  As predicted, Jack gets an earful. First I tell him about all the horrible things that happened today. After he does his best to comfort me, I fess up about Shane. Giving him the abridged version of our situation, I conclude by saying how I’m just so tired of having to hide and I just want to be able to be with him openly.

  “Ah, Bella,” he says sympathetically, kissing the top of my head. Then I tell Jack about our conversation and the whole pulling rank thing and how I reacted.

  “Do you think he was pulling rank?”

  I sigh. “Well... I don’t know. Probably not. I think he was just scared for me.”

  “The way you’re scared for your mom?”

  I start crying again. “What if the cancer’s back?”

  Jack holds me closer. “Then she’ll fight it. Linda’s a strong woman. Obstinate, in fact. Kind of like her daughter.”

  I laugh. “You’re not supposed to insult me. You’re supposed to comfort me.”

  “Hey, if you come to me for comfort, you gotta take what you get. This is Jack, baby.”

  I laugh again. “I know. And I love you for it.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kisses the top of my head again and I lean my head on his shoulder.

  I check my phone for about the twentieth time since I started talking to Jack. Still no texts.

  “When you look at your phone, who are you hoping to see?”

  I don’t answer.

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Hmmm?”

  “Shane,” I admit miserably.

  “So go talk to him. You’re not really mad at him anyway. You’re just scared and upset.”

  I know Jack’s right. I’m really just so scared for my mom and it feels safer to rage about everything else.

  “It’s obvious you want to talk to him. So talk to him.”

  “How come you’re so smart about it?” I elbow him gently.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” he says easily. “None of this logical crap seems to work on the girls I date.”

  I think that’s probably because of the kind of girls he dates, but I don’t say anything. While his choice in girlfriends has always been somewhat of a mystery to me (unless you go with the “he’s thinking with his cock” explanation, in which case it’s all crystal clear), I don’t judge him for it. Jack has a heart of gold and he’s always been there for us. That’s all that matters to me.

  I sigh, pull out my phone, and text Shane.

  I’m sorry. Can I come over?

  My phone dings immediately.

  Yes, please.

  He’s waiting for me next to the garage. When I park he’s right there. I get out of my car and slide into his arms. I tuck my head into his neck as we hold each other tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry. You needed to talk and I wasn’t listening very well.”

  “No, no. You did listen, to my whole stupid rant.”

  “It wasn’t stupid, honey. You had a pretty shitty day.”

  I nod against his chest.

  “I wasn’t trying to... be your professor,” he says softly.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just so freaked out about my mom and my grades and it’s finals week next week and... and you. I don’t... really know what we’re doing and what if someone finds out about us? It’s just all piling up. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  He strokes me hair and kisses me on top of my head. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk? We could go for a drive or something.”

  I shake my head. His house has become my little sanctuary. There’s nothing I want more than to be there with him. “Let’s order Chinese or something and stay in. Would that be alright?”

  “Of course.”

  I hesitate, then say, “I brought some homework.” I was hoping I’d get to stay, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Good. Grab it.”

  I sling my bag over my shoulder and we head back to his house, my head on his shoulder.

  When we get inside, he orders dinner and we curl together on the couch. He listens as I tell him all about my mom’s battle with cancer over the summer and holds me as I cry, worried that it’s come back and we might lose her this time.

  When dinner arrives, we eat that on the couch an
d talk some more. When I’ve finally talked myself out and am feeling better, I suggest we try to get some work done.

  I curl against him, still needing to be close, and read the pages assigned in my biochemistry text. He keeps one arm around me, apparently needing to be close too. He works on his laptop, typing with one hand.

  Fifteen minutes later, I close my text book and set it to the side. I rest my head against his shoulder and watch as he finishes typing a sentence.

  He slowly closes the laptop and sets it to the side as well, wrapping both arms around me now.

  “Did you finish your reading?” he asks quietly.

  “No.”

  I tilt my head up, my cheek still on his shoulder. He looks down at me. We silently look at one another for a long moment.

  I’m still a little raw because I hate that we argued and long to be close to him. I’m also a little terrified because I’m pretty sure I just maybe might be falling in love with Professor Shane Brooks.

  He strokes my cheek once. Twice. I scoot half an inch closer and lean up to kiss him.

  We press our lips together gently, lingering. My heart slowly starts to lean toward wholeness.

  I bring one hand into his hair, softly caressing his head.

  His lips part and I open to receive him. Our tongues gently explore each other. Our breaths deepen. I climb onto his lap, my legs on either side of his, my hands on either side of his face. Cradling his face between my hands, I kiss him deeper, longing to know what’s in my own heart.

  I kiss him stronger now, his broad hands pressing firmly against my back, holding me to him.

  I feel him harden and I press against him, craving him.

  He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls gently. I arch back and he kisses my neck, suckling my skin. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and embrace him, needing him close. He trails down my neck, sucking my tender skin and getting my whole body trembling.

  I’m holding him tightly, but it’s not enough. I need him closer.

  “Shane,” I whisper.

  He starts unbuttoning my jeans and I reach for his button and zipper too. He grabs the waist of my jeans and starts to tug. I take over, angling over onto one knee so I can bring my legs together and work my pants off. But I feel the gap between us and the only thing helping is the way he’s holding my eyes, slipping his pants off as well.

  Once free of my jeans, I climb back on. He scoots down slightly and I take his hard length and slide down on him.

  As he fills me, holding me tightly, I sigh and tuck my head onto his neck. We angle into one another only a couple times before I resent the barrier of our remaining clothing. I need to feel him against me. Leaning back, feeling his cock press against my side wall, I pull off my shirt and toss it aside.

  He comes forward and I pull at his shirt, helping to get it off him. He unfastens my bra and drops it, cupping me gently.

  I lean against him, clutching him and sighing in relief as my bare skin presses against his. He buries his head in my neck, and we begin to work together. My entire body hums as he slides in and out of me. I grip his shoulders, digging my fingertips into him. His hot exhalation lights up my skin.

  We slowly increase our rhythm and I tighten around him. Our hot breaths come in time with our movements. My entire body is holding on to him, afraid to let go, needing him to fill me. As he continues to harden and stretch against me, the heat in my body rises, the flush climbing up my chest. He clutches my hips, pulling me even firmer onto his cock.

  I angle against him so his rough hair rubs against my throbbing clit.

  I exhale and tuck my head down, my slightly open mouth resting against his neck. Clutching my ass he thrusts me harder. I whimper and taste his skin.

  He groans and thrusts me again. He’s slick with me.

  Our movements peak in intensity as we ride against each other. He sucks hard on the tender skin on my neck and I tilt my head back.

  I’m climbing hard and fast now. I bring my mouth to his and our tongues dive deep as he thrusts hard and I explode with pleasure. I whimper in his mouth, kissing him until I can’t any longer. Curling hard against him, he moans and I feel his hot release inside me. I’m gasping, crying out and his movements are more erratic as he comes inside me.

  My body gives one last, all-encompassing shudder and I collapse against him, breathing hard. Our movements slow, and eventually still. We stay like that, holding each other as our breathing settles. He’s still inside me, still semi-hard. I press against him and he answers me. We press against one another, lingering, then finally relaxing.

  I’m finally satiated with him, but don’t let go.

  Chapter 18

  The next week is finals week and it keeps me busy. I manage to get myself together enough to, at the very least, put in my best effort. I spend more time at the apartment, where it really is easier to work without the distraction of Shane and Shane’s bed, but we still see each other every day.

  My mother has had her tests but won’t get the results back until I’m home for break. I’m trying really hard not to worry about it. There’s nothing I can do about it and we’ll just have to deal with whatever it is as it comes.

  Once this week is over, I’ll have four weeks until the next semester starts. Under different circumstances I’d only go home for a week or two, but mom wants me home for the entire break and I’m not inclined to argue. With everything that’s going on, I want to spend as much time with her as I can.

  But I’m not looking forward to the separation from Shane.

  The night before my flight home, I walk up the steps to his back porch, with no Shane in sight. He usually greets me when I arrive, and when he doesn’t he’s in the kitchen, not far off. This time, looking through the glass back doors I don’t see him.

  I’m carrying an abstract sculpture that’s about two feet tall, and more awkward than it is heavy. I found it at the open-air market downtown and loved its sense of movement. Even though it’s covered in a beautiful blue ceramic glaze, it evokes the feeling of wind rushing through the trees. I thought of him when I saw it, impulsively purchased it as a Christmas gift, and have been worrying about it ever since.

  I wasn’t sure if I should get him a gift. I’m not really sure if he celebrates Christmas, first off. I’m also not sure if we’re at the gift-giving stage of a relationship. There’s nothing normal about our relationship. We don’t have all the usual markers. We’re not hanging out with each other’s friends. We’re not meeting each other’s parents. As much time as we spend together, I still have no idea what any of it means.

  I open the back door, stepping out of the brisk fall air into the warmth of his home. Listening for any sign of him and only hearing silence, I set the sculpture on the dining room table. “Shane?”

  I hear him now. His voice is coming from his office and getting closer. I circle the table and we meet in the living room. He’s on the phone with somebody, but wrapping it up.

  “Yes, yes.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but stops as the person on the other side of the line talks. He pinches his eyes shut briefly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Exhaling, he turns his attention to me, dropping the phone slightly and cupping my cheek as he gives a brief kiss hello. He returns to his conversation. “Like I said, it’s not a problem. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  When he gets off the phone, he gives me an exasperated sigh. His look says, Can you believe this person? But I don’t even know who he was talking to.

  “Who was that?”

  “Alvin. My brother.”

  Shane hasn’t told me much about his brothers, other than to say they don’t see eye to eye.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. That’s just Alvin being Alvin. My family wants to go to Vail for Christmas, and he has to make sure to make a big deal of it, suggesting I might need help paying for it. He knows I don’t. He’s just being asshole.”

  I’m shocked. He’s not one to speak harshly of others. I als
o don’t like the idea of him being mistreated. “I’m sorry.”

  Shane’s shrugs, but he’s bothered. “Alvin isn’t going to pass up an opportunity to let me know I’m the family disappointment.”

  This is all news to me, and I don’t understand it at all. How can anyone know Shane and be disappointed in him? This man amazes me.

  He runs his hand through his hair, his thoughts still running. “I can only imagine what they’d say if they knew about you.”

  There’s that look again. I haven’t seen it in a while, and I’m not happy that it’s back. It’s the look that says he feels guilty about what we’re doing. It says he’s disappointed in his own behavior.

  I hated this look on him before, but I hate it even more now that I’ve gotten in so deep. I get a hot knot in my chest at the idea of Shane thinking we’re a mistake.

  Maybe what we’re doing is technically wrong, but it’s right in all the ways that matter. At least, that’s how I see it.

  He sees the look on my face, and his expression softens. “Come here.”

  He opens his arms and I step into them, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

  “Forget him.” He rubs his hands down my back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel badly.”

  I squeeze him. “It isn’t that. I’m just sorry it’s like this with your brother. I hate to see you thinking you’re anything less the wonderful man I know you are.”

  His arms circle more firmly around me, and I feel the tension drain out of him. “Hmmmm.” He runs one hand into the base of my hair and nuzzles his nose against my neck. “You’re just saying that,” he lightly runs the tip of his nose up my tender skin, “because I know how to give good neck kisses.”

  He sucks gently, just below my jaw. I soften in his arms, my head tilting back. My skin shivers under his touch. “No, I’m not just saying it. But you do give most excellent neck kisses.”

  He trails light kisses up my neck, then brings my earlobe between his teeth, giving it a little nip and a suck before stepping back. Oh, I wasn’t ready for that to be over at all.