by Holly Jaymes
I immersed myself in coursework and made barely any friends. My lack of social interaction, especially with boys, resulted in me freezing up around them. I was too shy to speak to them. I never attended parties, and I kept my overwhelming obsession with Isaac Parnell a secret from everyone.
I was nineteen and still a virgin. I was nineteen and had never had a boyfriend. I knew I was nerdy and pathetic and there was no chance that someone like Isaac was even aware of my existence. Instead of thanking my parents, I was beginning to blame them for everything that was wrong in my life.
Isaac Parnell was a force to reckon with. I wasn’t the only one who was in love with him. Nearly every girl around me was in love with him.
He was nineteen too, but he had the aura of an older, more mature man who had seen the world. For a teenager, he was immensely well-read, and his vocabulary dripped with words we had never heard of. He was the kind of guy who challenged our professors in class and usually won. He always had a thick literary book sticking out of the pocket of his jacket. He could quote Chaucer and Shakespeare and Tolstoy on cue. He could hold his own during lengthy discussions in classrooms. For bookish girls, like the ones I was surrounded by, Isaac Parnell was a dreamboat. He was our pinup guy. The guy we all knew was going places.
I dreamt about him at night. I would imagine his thick dark hair and those piercing blue eyes and square jaw. He was tall and well built. He was clearly a guy who looked after himself. For someone whose nose was always in a book, Isaac was physically sexy too. He was aware of his sex appeal and took care of it.
Towards the end of the year, after I’d already spent two years drooling over him, I finally decided to attend a dorm party. It was going to be my first, but I forced myself to go because I knew that Isaac was going to be there. Not that I thought I stood a chance with him, but because I was curious to see him in a social setting. Also, I couldn’t resist staring at him. I’d had enough of being confined to my daydreams of him in class.
I didn’t know how to conduct myself in an atmosphere like this.
It was a college party. The kind where everyone drank a little too much and people made out with each other in the corners or on couches. I arrived early because I didn’t want to miss a second of staring at Isaac or hearing him speak.
He arrived late, and when he did, it seemed like the entire party gravitated towards him. He made clever jokes and girls fell on him like flies on syrup. I couldn’t approach him. I couldn’t even go near him. I was afraid that he would see me, in my old denim jacket and with my unstylish haircut and immediately burst into laughter. I was self-conscious of the pimple on my cheek, my un-manicured nails and my lack of fashionable clothing.
The girls he was surrounded by were hot, the cheerleader types, with perfect hourglass bodies. Isaac drifted towards a couch, and it seemed like everyone moved there along with him. I remained standing in the corner, in the shadows, with a plastic cup of punch in my hand.
I’d barely taken a sip, and I hated the taste of alcohol. Other than my roommate, who had disappeared somewhere a long time ago, I didn’t know anyone else at this party. I had nobody to talk to, and nobody came over to speak to me either. It was like I was invisible. I was as good as not there.
I stared at Isaac from my corner. I watched the way he settled on the couch. Three girls sat down with him, and a group had gathered around him. He was discussing the morning’s class, something about Sylvia Plath. I would have had important points to add to the discussion, but I didn’t have the courage for it, and I was too far away from them.
The others just stood around him, agreeing with everything he was saying. One of the girls even leaned towards him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Isaac, with a can of beer sloshing in his hand, returned that kiss. Some of the people around him laughed, and he pulled away from the girl, continuing with the conversation.
I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I could burst into tears or worse still, flames. I was invisible to him. Even though we took most of the same classes, I was sure that he didn’t know me. He wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me now. I blamed my parents. I blamed myself. I blamed my weakness.
Isaac made another joke, which caused the others to burst out laughing. I didn’t realize that I’d been drinking a lot of punch, just to numb the feelings of anxiety and rage that flooded my body. I wasn’t used to drinking. The alcohol had taken over my mind, and I was swaying on my feet. I didn’t know I was.
“Shut up!” I screeched before I could stop myself.
Initially, I didn’t even hear myself say the words. I just saw everyone’s reaction around me. Then the sound of my own voice hit me.
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” I continued screeching.
I didn’t know why I was doing it. Why had I chosen those words to say? Was it just frustration? Was it jealousy? Was it some kind of desperate attempt at getting Isaac’s attention? Whatever it was, I’d screamed it loud enough for the people around me to hear. The group with Isaac stopped talking, and they all stared at me like I was an alien creature.
I stared at Isaac. Right into his eyes. That might have been the first time he had even looked at me.
He was sitting on the couch, with one hand on the exposed knee of the girl he’d just kissed.
“What’s wrong with her?” I heard someone whisper near me. I was the center of attention now. They were all staring at me, and my face was deathly pale. Isaac’s lips were beginning to stretch into a smile.
“Is she drunk?” I heard another voice near me. I couldn’t move. My feet were frozen to the ground.
I watched as he slowly began to stand up. He pulled himself away from the girl who was trying to cling to him. With horror, I saw him taking a few steps in my direction.
“Hey, you okay, there?” he asked. He didn’t look concerned. Instead, he was smiling. The smile had reached his eyes. My nervous breakdown was a source of amusement for him. He was drawing closer to me, while others continued staring at me, waiting for me to do something more embarrassing. I was losing my mind right in front of Isaac, the guy I thought I was in love with. I was making a fool of myself.
“Hey,” Isaac said again when I hadn’t replied to him. He was standing right in front of me now, looking into my eyes. My mouth was hanging open. I knew I looked like a complete and utter fool.
“Were you asking me to shut up?” he continued, with a handsome smirk on his face.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I blurted, like an idiot.
He continued smiling. Nothing bothered him. He was as cool as a cucumber. I hadn’t spoken to him before. Isaac had never been this close to me. There were so many things I could have said to him. I had fantasized for so long about this moment. I imagined all the interesting things I would say to him for the first time. Instead, I bolted.
I pushed past him, our arms roughly brushing against each other’s and I ran.
“Hey!” I heard his voice behind me, but I kept running. I didn’t want to break down in tears here, in front of everyone. I was a nerd, and I didn’t belong here.
That was the first and last time I ever spoke to Isaac Parnell. Even though we went to the same classes, he never looked at me or talked to me again. It was like that incident at the party hadn’t happened at all. Eventually, I convinced myself that I’d imagined the whole thing and I had just been too drunk.
Daddy Ivy League Chapter 1 Preview
Chapter 1
Isaac
Twelve Years Later
The alarm kept ringing near my head. I’d thumped it to snooze several times already. Now, I opened my eyes, bleary and hungover. I had exactly twenty minutes to get to class, and I wasn’t even out of bed yet.
“Shit!” I growled, pulling myself out of the tangled web of sheets around me. Clarissa’s naked body was stretched out next to me. She was facing away, her precious, beautiful ass was on full display, and I felt my cock hardening again. How many times had I fucked her last night? Three times? Four? I los
t track.
A steady ache throbbed at the back of my head. I was too drunk last night. I still felt drunk now.
I found my discarded jeans and flannel shirt from the previous day on the floor. I jumped around, trying to get dressed quickly. I couldn’t have her sleeping on my bed all day. I was trying to make as much noise as I could so she would wake up.
“Where are you going?” she mumbled, rolling around. Her bright blond curls tumbled down over her shoulders, barely covering her puffy pink nipples. My cock was still hard. I’d be hard as long as her nakedness was on display.
“I have a class. You should go,” I said, buttoning up my shirt.
She wasn’t bothered. She remained on the bed. The sheets were purposely pushed off from her body. She was trying to seduce me to stay.
“Since when do you care about getting to class on time?” she asked.
I clenched my jaw tightly, brushing a hand through my thick ruffled hair. If she thought she knew me, she was making a huge mistake.
“Hey, you need to leave. C'mon,” I grabbed the edge of the sheets and yanked them off the bed, exposing her completely. Clarissa’s perfect slender body was more tempting now than it was just a few seconds away. Pulling off the sheets was a mistake.
“You don’t need to go to class, Professor. Your students can suffer one day without you. Make them miss you a little,” she had a husky morning voice. She stretched and rolled and was making it very difficult for me to leave.
“Clarissa. You have to go. I can’t have someone seeing you in my house.” I was rushing around the room, stuffing my pockets with my wallet an keys and phone.
“Why? It’s not like I’m your student anymore. How does it matter who you sleep with now?” She was purring sexily like a cat, making it impossible for me to put up a fight.
“You were my student just a week ago,” I argued.
“But I’ve graduated now. Technically, we’re not doing anything wrong right now,” she said and bit into her lower lip.
“Look, Clarissa, last night was fun, but it was a mistake,” I said, pushing my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
She was finally sitting up in bed, realizing that her sultriness wasn’t working on me.
“Mistake? We’ve been flirting for four years. It finally happened!” she snapped.
I shook my head. I thought she was easy going and wouldn't cause me any problems. Sleeping with my students, or rather ex-students, was a bad habit I needed to get out of.
“We weren’t flirting for four years. You were in my class. Last night, we got piss-drunk. It shouldn’t have happened,” I was trying to be as polite as possible, but this girl was quickly beginning to get on my nerves.
“You can’t just change your mind in the morning, Professor!” she screeched.
“Stop calling me that. I’m not your professor anymore,” I retorted.
“Exactly! So, why are you kicking me out?”
Clarissa pulled the bedsheets up and wrapped them around her breasts.
“Because this is where it stops.”
She swung her legs over the bed and stood up.
“You’re throwing me out of your house?”
“I’m politely asking you to leave,” I insisted.
“This is insane! I thought we actually had a connection,” she hissed, starting to pick up her lingerie and clothes off the floor.
My bedroom was a mess. We had sex everywhere in this room, and I was already regretting it. She could spread rumors about me. She could tell people! I was a celebrated professor at Harvard. I was known in the academic community, all over the world. My reputation was on the line here, and Clarissa was capable of bringing me down. I had given her that power.
She continued muttering as she got dressed.
“I can’t believe this. You are such a dick. I thought you were different!”
“Different, how?” I raged.
“Different from the guys my age. Other dicks. Men who have a one night stand and never call. I thought you really liked me!” she screeched and this time, I saw tears in Clarissa’s eyes. I realized then that I had seriously messed this up. She wasn’t just an ordinary one-night-stand. She could really hurt me and my career. If word got out that I was sleeping with my former students, it could have disastrous consequences on my position at Harvard.
“I do…really like you,” I softened my voice as I spoke to her.
She was hooking up her bra, and her smooth small breasts swung in front of her. My cock pumped in my pants, but I ignored it. It was responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place.
“You’re just saying that because I’m being difficult,” she said, keeping her face turned from me. I could see she was trying to be mature. She was trying to control her tears.
“That’s not it. I mean it. I’ve always liked you. You were my star student,” I said, and she snapped her head up to look at me.
“Star student? Do you even know how patronizing that sounds right now? You still look at me as a student. Not as a woman you just fucked!” she raged again. I sighed. This wasn’t working out well for me, and I knew I deserved it.
Ideally, Clarissa should have been out of my house by now, without causing me trouble, but that wasn’t going to happen.
I stood away from her, watching her slip into her clothes. Things needed to change around here. I needed to start making sensible decisions before something went really bad. Before I lost my reputation and my career came tumbling around me.
“Clarissa, look, listen to me,” I growled, pulling her into my arms. Her cheeks were flushed. She was pissed off, refusing to look into my eyes.
“I’m in a rush right now, but maybe we can talk about this later. Is that okay?”
She gritted her teeth. Her nostrils flared, then she slowly nodded her head.
“Yes, okay. I don’t want you to ghost me, Isaac. I think this can really work for us. Don’t you feel the connection?” she asked. She was pleading me with her eyes.
“Y…yes, I do. But right now, I have to go. I’ll call you soon,” I said and even went as far as to kiss her forehead. I hoped this would keep her subdued for now, until I came up with a plan.
“Do you mean that or you’re just saying it?” she asked, searching my eyes.
Fuck. Fuck! I had no intent to call her. How long was I going to have to keep this up?
“No, I really mean it, Clarissa. I’m not going to ghost you. I can’t make you any promises. I don’t know if things can really work out between us. I’m not a fan of relationships. I’m sure you know that about me,” I replied.
She was chewing her lip, looking hopeful now.
“Yes, I know. We all know about your reputation. You’re allergic to commitment, professor,” she said huskily and leaned towards me again. I released my grip on her waist and stepped away. I could sense that calling me professor was a big turn on for her, maybe it was for me too, but I couldn’t keep doing this.
“Okay, we should talk about this more seriously, but later. Right now, I need to get to class,” I told her.
She was in a better mood now. Her tears had dried, and she seemed like she didn’t hate me anymore.
“Of course. You should go do your thing. Enlighten those minds,” she said with a laugh. She came over to kiss my cheek again and then she left.
Finally, I was alone in my house, and I felt relief. I would have to come up with a plan to deal with Clarissa. I’d have to let her down gently. I also needed to change my patterns. I needed to stop sleeping with girls who could potentially harm my career. But old habits die hard. I knew that too. All I could do was hope for a miracle.
About the Author
All of Holly's romances involve passionate, alpha males who don't shy away from demonstrating just how they feel about their sassy heroines. Because, let's face it, those are the best kinds of book-boyfriends to have.
Expect swoon worthy romance, juicy drama, lip-biting scenes and satisfying happily ever afters; that
will have you flipping the pages way past your bed time!
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