“Why what?”
“Why would you want me to?”
“Because everyone needs someone to talk to, and I can relate in some respect. If you’d let me, I can be a great listener.”
I’m surprised by his generosity, but I’m still reluctant to talk about it. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about her, I just have this fear that by talking about it will mean I’m accepting it.”
“Well, you can talk about it, or you can bottle it up inside you until you burst with resentment for not having anyone to talk about it with.”
“Bottling it up has been working fine for the past six years,” I retort. He glares at me, and I know I’m only fooling myself. “I just feel…” I pause, trying to collect my thoughts and find the right words for what I want to say. “Do you think it’s possible to feel like a part of you is constantly missing? Like…never feeling complete.”
He nods, his lips part for just a moment, but he stays silent.
“I feel like I’m only half a person and it’s the half that doesn’t know how to function emotionally.”
“Considering she was your twin, I’d say it’s very possible. Twins share a bond that regular siblings don’t.” The truth in his words causes an ache deep in my chest. Sharing a bond doesn’t sound strong enough for what I felt with her.
I nod in agreement. “Ever since the accident, I feel like my soul has been ripped out from underneath me. Not only is a part of me missing, but also it’s the part that knew how to function emotionally and mentally. Most of the time, I find myself faking it just to keep on going.”
“Your art isn’t fake,” he says matter-of-factly. “Your art is very real. What you put into your paintings is deeply emotional. It tells a story that you’re mind is expressing visually since you can’t vocally.”
“Yeah.” I smile, choking back a sob. “It feels like home when I paint. Comforting. It feels natural.”
I feel his fingers slowly rub against my jawline as he lifts my head up. Our eyes meet, and before I can take a breath, his mouth covers mine. His hand slides around my neck, pulling me closer and kissing me deeper. I lean into him as his warm lips nudge mine open, sliding his tongue in to claim mine. His other hand wraps effortlessly around my waist as he shifts his body in between my legs. A deep moan releases from my throat as his chest presses firmly against mine. I can feel how chiseled and tone his body is as he squeezes my hip and closes the gap left between us.
A soft whimper escapes from my lips as he pulls back slightly. My chest moves rapidly up and down as he draws my lower lip in between his teeth, lightly biting and groaning. My body goes into overdrive as I wrap my arms around him, soaking up every inch of his mouth. His hold on me tightens as our bodies mold together in a heated kiss. It’s better than I even imagined and the soft groans coming from his throat tell me he feels the same.
My heart is racing in my chest, thumping hard against my ribs as I feel what this man is doing to me. I’ve kissed plenty of guys before, but it’s never felt like this.
Realization comes crashing back that we’re at the gallery and someone could catch us at any time. I don’t want to stop, but I know we’ll be risking it if we don’t.
“Um…” I say against his lips. “Someone’s going to—”
I feel him smirking against my mouth, my body shivering at the way his lips feel on mine. “Going to what?” I open my eyes and see he’s taunting me.
His lips softly kiss mine, slower now, almost torturous. “I’ve wondered what it’d be like to kiss you.” His voice is smooth, genuine, my breathing speeding up at how hard my heart is pounding in my chest.
He releases my lips for one short moment before wrapping a hand around my throat and pulling me closer once again, his eyes intense and greedy.
“And now that I’ve found out, I can’t stop.” The corner of his lips tilt, flashing one of his deep dimples.
“Do you normally go around kissing your students?” I tease, breaking away just enough to see the eagerness in his eyes, hungry and desperate.
“Just the ones I really like.” He winks and a soft chuckle releases from my throat.
“Good to know.”
He presses another soft kiss on my lips before standing up and holding his hand out for mine. I place it in his and stand up so we’re chest to chest.
“And for the record, I’ve never kissed a student of mine before.” His finger rubs along my cheekbone, brushing the hair back behind my ear.
I smile, loving the way his hand feels against my flushed skin. “I’ve never kissed one of my professors before. But then again, none of them had ever looked like you either,” I taunt, earning a pleased smile in return.
“Good to know.”
The sound of easy chatter grabs our attention as it becomes apparent people are coming this way.
“I should go—”
“I’m going to—”
We both say at the same time. I laugh at how nervous I am, how nervous he makes me when just a moment ago, his body and lips were all over mine.
“We’ll talk later, okay? I’m going to help Aunt Mel finish up.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead before sliding his hand down my arm and giving my hand a quick squeeze.
I watch as he walks away, my mind spinning at what just happened. I bring my fingers up to my lips, swollen and warm, my body still humming at the way it felt to have him pressed against me.
I smooth my hands down my shirt and stand up straighter before heading back to the front of the gallery as if nothing had happened.
MORGAN
Kissing Aspen is something I’ve fantasized about for weeks.
I know I shouldn’t have, considering she’s my student and the consequences could really screw me, but the moment she opened up to me, I couldn’t stop myself. She walks into my classroom, so strong and confident in her work, but there’s so much she’s covering up on the inside. The force I feel to be near her is undeniable.
I hate that I had to leave her after that, but I don’t intend on staying away for long.
Aunt Mel and I go through the rest of her to-do list for the event. Going over and over the same things I already know, but I amuse her and listen anyway. I know talking about it aloud helps her mentally organize everything.
We go over the catering instructions, the wine list, the guest list, and itinerary. She repeats herself so much, I start filling in her words for her.
“Morgan!” she scowls.
I laugh. “Well, you’ve told me the list three times now, Aunt Mel. I got it.” I kiss her cheek. “It’s going to be amazing. Stop worrying.”
“All right. Fine.” She smiles with a sigh. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over. Let’s just say that.”
“Yes, but all your hard work will pay off. I’m sure of it.”
It’s after seven before I finally get out of there. I know Natalia is going to be mad, but I’m hoping the sleepover she’s planned for this weekend puts her back in a good mood.
I arrive back home with Natalia half asleep in the passenger seat. My mom said she’d been quiet all night and couldn’t get anything out of her. So I plan to fix that.
“Wanna talk?” I ask as soon as I kill the engine.
“About what?”
“Whatever you want.”
She furrows her brows. “Nothing in particular comes to mind.”
“Natalia, c’mon. How dense do you think I am?”
“Well, going by your Ralph Lauren slacks, button-up shirt, and slicked back hair, I’d say it’s a safe bet.”
“You have way too much time on your hands if you know the brand names of my clothes.”
“I have good fashion sense, so sue me.” She grips the handle and lets herself out.
“What’s wrong with my pants?” I chase behind her, but she ignores my question. “We can order pizza and binge on ice cream,” I offer, unlocking the door. “But you have to talk.”
I push the front door open and she steps in. “Fine. Let’s talk about why y
ou hated my father.”
My breath hitches, and I swear I hear a pin drop the moment her words hit me. But I know she’s not stupid. Of course, she knows something was up between us considering I never called or visited.
I just wasn’t planning to have this conversation for at least a few more years.
We settle in with a cheese pizza and a quart of chocolate ice cream on the couch. I know I can’t tell her everything, but it’s only fair she know I didn’t hate him. I was mad, sure, but I’ve always loved my brother.
“Okay, so spill. I’m eating, aren’t I?”
I narrow my eyes at her snarky tone. “I didn’t hate him, Natalia. I shouldn’t have gone so long without talking to him. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”
“Why’d you stop talking to him?” she asks, taking a bite.
I don’t want anything I say to change how she feels for her dad, so I sugarcoat it the best I can. “We had a disagreement. I was mad and hurt for a really long time and instead of mending our relationship, I let it stew.”
“Are you still mad?” she asks.
“Yes. But not at him.”
“Then who?”
“Myself. I’m mad about our last interaction. I’m mad I didn’t come back before it was too late.”
“Being mad is a lot of work,” she admits.
“It is,” I agree.
“Do you think God punishes people?”
Her question catches me off guard and it takes me a moment to really grasp what she’s asked. “I can’t say for sure.”
“Yeah, me either.”
“Do you think you’re being punished?”
She shrugs and lowers her eyes. “Sometimes, I guess. It’s hard not to feel that way when you lose both of your parents before they even get to see you graduate middle school. I miss him so much.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer. “I do, too, Shorty. But I do know one thing…” She looks up at me with those hopeful and bright blue eyes. “He loved you so very much. He’d want you to be happy.”
“I feel guilty.”
“For moving on?” She nods. “Yeah, I know that feeling, too.”
“How do you get over it?”
I wish I knew the answer to that. “That’s something we’re going to have to figure out together.”
She smiles and leans her head on my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head and let her lay there until she passes out. I carry her into bed and tuck her in as quietly as I can without waking her. I put the pizza and ice cream away and then finish cleaning up the rest of the living room.
I sit down on the couch with a thud and stare up at the ceiling. Thoughts of Ryan and me come to my mind. Thoughts of how close we were, how much I looked up to him, how much we had in common.
I should’ve known he’d had a thing for Jennifer, but I ignored all the signs. I didn’t want to think that my own brother would go after someone I was dating and planning to marry. Even though I was enraged, I wish I would’ve given him a second chance. A second chance to explain, apologize, admit he loved her—anything.
I wish I had given our relationship a second chance before it was too late.
I try to hold back the tears like all the other times, but this time, I let them fall. I let them fall so I can relieve the pain inside.
“Morgan?” I hear Nat’s voice, and I quickly rub both hands over my face.
“Yes?” I stand up and find her leaning on the doorframe.
She flashes a sweet smile and says, “He’d want you to be happy, too.”
Natalia’s words repeat over and over in my head all night long. I try and sleep, but sleep never comes. I think of all the things we used to do as kids, the way we’d mess with each other, and spend every Saturday outside.
There was a time we were inseparable. That was all before Jen, of course. He went off to college before me, but once I met her, our time together became less and less. There were holidays and special occasions, but it wasn’t nearly the same. We lost contact somewhere in between, and I have no one to blame but myself.
Natalia was born and just a few years after, his wife, Lena, passed away. It was hard on all of us, but it destroyed him. Ryan was alive, but he was hardly living. It was obvious he was taking Lena’s unexpected death hard.
She was driving to work one day when an elderly woman hit her straight on and was killed instantly. I tried my hardest to get closer to him after that. Raising a child on his own and feeling lost, he started drinking. I’m not exactly sure when he started to fall for Jen, but I know I hadn’t seen it coming. Although I should’ve, I was too invested in my own little world to really see what was happening around me.
Natalia would stay with my parents a lot. I’d help by picking her up and taking her out to do fun things. She was just a toddler, so we’d go to the pool or park, anything to keep her out of the house while Ryan drank himself to near a coma.
I tried to help, get him into counseling, but he refused. My mother cried daily, wanting to help and send him to rehab, but again, he refused.
Perhaps it was Jen’s psychology background, but she managed to get him talking. She’d spend hours over there, trying to get him to express the pain he was feeling. I can’t say I blame him for falling in love with her. She was easy to fall for with her sweet southern belle personality. I figured she was finally getting through to him, finally helping him sober up, but she was just helping him replace a void that ended up ruining all of our lives.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ASPEN
After Thursday’s class with Professor Hampton, I’m more nervous than ever for the gala tonight. I could hardly keep eye contact with him, but he hadn’t made it easy. Every time I looked up from my canvas, he’d be staring at me with that stupid crooked grin of his with his tone arms crossed over his broad chest. I had to remind myself not to drool and to keep my head down.
But I hadn’t been successful in trying to act normal since Ellie kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I could tell she was suspicious considering how much attention he’d given me the past six weeks and especially since she made a few comments about us hooking up a while ago. I can’t say I blame her, though—the way he looks at me would make a blind man suspicious.
However, I know we have to act normally when people are around. As hard as it sounds, it’s also kind of hot. It’s like this little secret that only he and I know…a secret everyone would die to hear about.
By Saturday morning, I’m antsy as hell.
Ms. Jones has been blowing my phone up all morning, double and triple checking everything. I’m scheduled to help assist anyone with the paintings and hopefully talk them up and into buying. There’ll be several of us walking around to help interpret the paintings for anyone who asks, but Ms. Jones knows I’ve done this the most out of all the other girls.
On top of all that, I have to fit into a gown, do my hair and makeup and find shoes that match. I’m normally on top of it all, but lately my brain has been preoccupied with other things.
Things like Professor Hampton.
And his hands.
And his eyes.
And his perfect lips.
And basically anything to do with him, which has made me unable to really function at anything else since he kissed me Wednesday night.
And speaking of that kiss, I can’t get the taste and feel of his lips out of my mind. I replay it over and over in my head just so I won’t forget it. I’ve kissed numerous guys in the past, but his was different. It was so much more than just a kiss.
I hear knocking on my door and yell for them to come in. I know it’s Kendall. We’re supposed to head to the gallery together, but I know she’s going to ream my ass for not being ready yet.
“Aspen!”
“In here!” I call from my bathroom. I hear her walk down the hall and see her as soon as she comes through the door. “What in the hell?” I crack out in laughter. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“That�
�s because I can’t get the damn dress over my ass.” She scowls. “It fit me a few weeks ago.”
“Maybe you’re just bloated?” I spin her around and pull the dress up over her chest and around her back. “Okay, start sucking in.” I pull it tighter, but it doesn’t reach just yet. “When I count to three, inhale as deep as you can and hold it in.” She does as I say, and I yank the zipper up, just barely getting it to zip all the way. “There.”
She turns around with a frown. “I can’t even breathe.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “Do you have another one?”
“If I had another one, I wouldn’t be trying to squeeze into this!”
“All right. Let me unzip it and you can wear one of my dresses.”
“Are you kidding? Your stuff is even tighter than mine.”
“Not all of it!” I counter. “Just come on.” I drag her into my room and open the closet doors. “There has to be something in here that’ll work.”
Forty-two minutes later…
“I look like a stripper,” Kendall complains, staring at herself in the mirror.
“Silver is totally in,” I say unconvincingly. “You look fine.”
“I’m not an idiot, Aspen. I make one wrong move and it’ll rip in half, giving everyone a free show.”
“Well, at least it’d help sell lots of paintings,” I tease, laughing at her dramatics. “But just to be safe, don’t bend over.” I wink.
“That’s it. No more Taco Bell runs.” She rubs a hand over her waistline as if she were pregnant. “Mama needs to get rid of this food baby.”
I burst out in laughter, hardly able to keep it together to slide my shoes on. “Come on, Little Mama. Hair time.”
“Maybe if I dye it pink and puff it up like an eighties hairstyle gone bad, it’ll direct everyone away from the fact that this dress is two sizes too small.”
“I don’t see what you’re fussing about. It really accents your ass and chest.”
“The only time I actually have a chest and it’ll be while I’m at work,” she whines, flailing her arms against her sides.
Pushing the Limits: A Student/Teacher Romance Page 15