I honestly didn’t know.
“Five months has been long enough for me to know that right now you’re trying to think with your head instead of your heart. It’s been long enough for me to learn that when you get flustered, you try to solve your problems with logic and reason, but what I feel for you and what I know you feel for me whether you’re ready to admit it or not isn’t logical or reasonable. And this sure as hell isn’t logical or reasonable.” In one fell movement he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the counter. Eyes glinting with dark, sensual purpose he brought his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that wasn’t sweet or gentle or patient, but it was exactly what I needed.
His hands tangled in my hair, pulling to the point of pain as he dragged my head back and nipped at my throat, bristle scraping deliciously across my sensitive flesh.
With a gasp I arched my back, inadvertently thrusting my breasts into his waiting hands. When had he gotten under my sweatshirt? Everything was spinning out of control, like a carousel stuck on fast forward.
And I loved it.
He skimmed his thumbs across my nipples. They went hard in an instant, straining against the delicate cotton fabric of my bra. Heat pulsated through me, dampening the crotch of my underwear as he kissed me again, sliding his tongue between my teeth. I brought my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, heels touching the top of his butt.
More, I all but panted. More, more, more.
Daniel obliged me. When he bit my bottom lip and tugged - hard - I groaned, nails sinking into the nape of his neck as my legs tightened reflexively, dragging him against the apex of my thighs. He rubbed himself against me, rocking his hips back and forth in an undulating rhythm that set me on fire. Skimming his hands down my body, he grabbed the hem of my sweatshirt.
“Arms up,” he growled.
I hastened to obey and he dragged both my sweatshirt and my tank top over my head and threw them on the floor, leaving me in nothing but flannel pajama pants and a pink bra. Dimly some part of my brain registered that we were on the brink of making love in the kitchen, but any thoughts of stopping vanished the instant Daniel lowered his head and drew my nipple into his mouth through the thin lace fabric of my bra.
“Oh. Oh. Oh.” My head lolled to one side as he suckled and I would have slid bonelessly off the counter had it not been for his body anchoring mine in place.
He lifted his head, revealing eyes dark with a need that went far beyond making out on a kitchen counter. “I want you, Imogen.” His hands slipped beneath me, cupped my butt, and pulled me against his crotch, letting me know exactly how much he wanted me.
I felt the hard length of his arousal like a searing brand against the softness of my inner thigh. Helpless to resist the clawing ache inside of me I rubbed against him and he groaned, eyes pinching closed as though he were in physical pain.
“Now,” he rasped. “I want you now, Imogen.”
And I wanted Daniel.
In that moment of raw heat and burning passion I wanted Daniel so badly I almost forgot about Whitney waiting upstairs and what would happen if the college discovered I was sleeping with one of my students.
I almost forgot…until I didn’t.
“No.” Reluctantly, I dropped my legs and leaned back on my palms in the hope that some space might help cool both of us down. “We can’t. My roommate is upstairs and the college-”
“To hell with the college,” he said fiercely. “To hell with them.”
I had seen Daniel’s soft side. I’d witnessed firsthand his thoughtfulness and kindness. But this side of him - angry, frustrated, belligerent - I had yet to see until now. I laid a restraining hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal,” I began, going back to what we’d said on Monday night, “but the truth is-”
“The truth is we’re two grown adults and if we want to have sex in your kitchen we should damn well be able to have sex in your fucking kitchen!” He raked a hand through his hair, saw my expression, and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, little fox. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m not angry at you.”
I slid off the counter. Barefoot, the top of my head barely reached his chin, forcing me to tilt my head back in order to meet his tumultuous gaze. “Maybe you should be. I lied to you, Daniel. All of this is my fault. That’s - that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about before…well…” I glanced guiltily at the counter. “You know.”
“I do know,” he said dryly as he glanced pointedly down at his bulging erection. “Trust me, I know very well what we almost did.”
A warm blush stole across my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know this is-”
“It takes a lot to really piss me off, but if you say ‘this is all my fault’ one more time it might just happen.” He scraped his fingers across his chin. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me the truth about your job from the beginning, but I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. Just like I know even if you had told you were a professor we’d still be standing right here, in this kitchen. Because some things are just meant to happen the way they’re meant to happen.”
My throat tightened. “Why are you making this so hard?”
A fleeting smile touched his mouth. “Little fox, love was never meant to be easy.”
He could say that again. What made it even harder - what made it almost impossible - was that it was Daniel standing in front of me. Were it anyone else, I knew my decision to end the relationship would be - if not easy - then at least tolerable. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Daniel. Sweet, handsome, thoughtful Daniel. A man just mysterious enough to ignite the tiny spark of interest I’d always carried inside of me (even though I hadn’t known it) for the dark, brooding Heathcliff type. A man who wasn’t put off by my intelligence or annoyed by my awkwardness. A man who could make me happier than I’d ever dreamed…if I would only let him.
In Wuthering Heights Catherine chose duty and honor over lust and love, ultimately causing her - and Heathcliff - immeasurable pain and misery. If I chose my career over Daniel, would I be damning us both to a similar fate?
“You’re thinking with your head again,” he said abruptly, startling me from my thoughts. “Let’s eat those muffins before they get cold.”
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since late yesterday afternoon. Consumed with work, worrying about Daniel, I hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. “We can eat in the living room. It’s a little warmer and sunnier in there. How do you like your coffee?”
“Half and half if you’ve got it, otherwise black is fine. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“No, of course not. It’s down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Save the biggest muffin for me, alright?” He flashed a smile. “I’m starving.”
Despite the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions ricocheting around in my head, I returned his smile although it felt empty and hollow, like a vase without any flowers. “I can do that.”
“Imogen…” He drew me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pressing his mouth to the top of my head. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmured against my hair. “I promise.”
Fighting back a sudden rush of tears, I managed to nod. “I know.”
Waiting until he’d disappeared down the hall, I stooped down and picked up my tank top and sweatshirt. Putting on the tank top I crumpled the sweatshirt against my chest, using it to muffle the sound of my pounding heart as I slumped against the counter. The counter Daniel and I almost just had sex on even though I knew he was my student.
What the hell was I doing?
Every other year or so another student-teacher relationship was making headlines. Headlines that were never kind to either person involved. Headlines that used words like ‘immoral’ and ‘forbidden’ and, in some of the worst cases, ‘rape’.
I knew what Daniel and I had wasn’t any of those things, but to the college it wouldn’t make a difference. Shoc
kingly, some universities and colleges actually allowed professor-student relationships. Stonewall wasn’t one of them. An affair with a student was grounds for immediate dismissal, no exceptions, which meant there really shouldn’t have been a question as to what I needed to do. The answer was clear. It was simple. It was logical.
Unfortunately, as the impromptu makeout session in the kitchen had just proved, I was no longer capable of making a clear, simple, logical decision. Because as Daniel had pointed out, what we felt for each other defied all logic and reason.
Desperately needing to shut off my brain, if only for a few minutes, I concentrated on breakfast. While the coffee brewed I set two matching plates and napkins onto a serving platter and carried everything out, including the muffins, into the living room. Sunlight spilled in through the large bay window, giving the room a soft, warm glow. A comfortable (albeit very out of style) sofa Whitney and I had found on Craigslist sat against one wall. Two mismatched chairs and a bookshelf were on the other with a cream colored rug and a refurbished coffee table in between. It wasn’t very fancy - certainly nothing like the antique furnishings and priceless persian rugs I’d grown up with - but it was cozy, and, more importantly, it was home.
Setting the serving platter down on the table, I returned to the kitchen for the coffee. When Daniel came out of the bathroom I was already sitting in one of the chairs, a blueberry muffin resting untouched on my lap. “That’s yours,” I said, pointing at the coffee mug and muffin I’d left on the coffee table. Picking them up, along with a napkin, Daniel settled across from me in the middle of the sofa.
“This is nice,” he said, looking around. “Very cozy.”
I darted a quick glance at him, forced to wonder - not for the first time - if he was somehow able to look inside my head and read my thoughts. “Thank you. If our landlord will let us, we want to paint some of the rooms in the spring.”
“What color were you thinking for this one?”
“Sage green.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds good to me.” He blew across his coffee before taking a sip. “This is good too. Is it local?”
“I got from the market in town.” Hesitating, I tried to remember the name. “French Brown?”
“Brawn.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “French Brawn. Did you try a muffin yet? They’re Gracie’s speciality.”
“I thought pancakes were her specialty,” I said as I peeled off the wrapper and set it neatly aside on my plate before biting into the muffin. Delicious. It melted on my tongue, a sweet, fluffy combination of sugar, flour, and blueberries that tasted as though they’d been picked this morning despite the five inches of snow on the ground.
“Those too. Awesome, right?”
“Amazing.” If Daniel wasn’t sitting across from me there was no doubt in my mind I would have shoved the entire muffin in my mouth, but since he was I forced myself to take dainty, ladylike bites. “Please tell her I said thank you.”
Breaking his muffin in half, he took a generous bite. “Why don’t you tell her yourself tomorrow morning? Unless you’re busy, I thought we could try breakfast again.”
The muffin in my mouth suddenly tasted stale and I had to force myself to swallow it down. Meeting Daniel’s expectant gaze, seeing the lazy curve of his mouth, I swallowed again even though this time there was nothing to force down my throat except for dry saliva. “Daniel I…I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
His eyes remained leveled on mine. “Because you’re not a soccer coach and if people saw us together you think they might get the wrong idea.”
“Yes,” I murmured. “Exactly.”
Genuine confusion dug tiny grooves in his forehead. “Why did you say that you were a coach instead of a professor? It doesn’t matter now either way and I’m not blaming you but…I guess I just don’t understand why you would lie about something like that.”
Even before I got Daniel’s text this morning, I knew I would have to explain myself. If not today, then tomorrow. If not this week, then next. It was something that couldn’t be avoided…and something I wasn’t any closer to knowing how to explain than I had been on Monday night. “I wanted to seem normal.”
“Why would being an English Professor not be considered normal?”
Looking at it from his point of view, I could see how ridiculous I must have sounded. But at the time, the lie hadn’t seemed ridiculous. At the time, the lie had seemed necessary. Trying to think of how to make him understand, I toyed with a crumb that had fallen onto my lap, rolling it back and forth between my thumb and pointer finger until it dissolved.
“I graduated from high school at fifteen,” I said finally, forcing myself to look up at him. “I graduated from Harvard - the first time - when I was nineteen. I got my masters when I was twenty-three, and I’ll have my doctorate by the time I turn twenty-six. That’s not normal, Daniel. What I did…what I had to give up…” Seeing how bemused he still was, I shook my head in frustration. “I know what it sounds like, and I’m not complaining. I swear. It’s just that I never got to have what other teenagers had. What other college students had. And that night at the bar…with you…I just wanted to be a regular twenty-four-year-old. For once, I wanted to be normal.”
“Imogen.” Putting his coffee down, he stood up and came around the side of the table to crouch beside me. Putting a hand on my knee, he squeezed tight. “You’ll never be a regular twenty-four-year-old. You’ll never be normal.”
I closed my eyes as his words sank into my skin like tiny hooked barbs.
“And that’s why I’m in love with you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ultimatums
My eyes popped open. I couldn’t have heard Daniel correctly. But then why was he smiling? Seeing my incredulous expression, his smile turned into a chuckle and he squeezed my knee again.
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“Not - not that,” I admitted.
“I mean it. I should have said it before now. Little fox, I love you because of your differences, not despite them. I like that you’re a little quirky. A little socially awkward. A little shy.” His thumb brushed against the inside of my thigh. “I even like it when you get nervous and spout off random facts.”
“You do not.”
He rested his chin on my knee and looked up at me, gaze bright with amusement and something else I didn’t think I’d ever seen in his eyes before. Something shiny and new and gleaming with possibility. Something that made me feel safe and protected and adored.
Is love something you can see? I wondered. Can you touch it? Taste it? Is this what love, true, unfettered, unconditional love, feels like?
“Of course I do. How else would I know smoking can cause cervical cancer and Charles Perrault invented Cinderella’s pumpkin?” He kissed my leg through my pajama pants before he stood up. “If going to Harvard at fifteen made you into who you are today, that’s something you should embrace, not hide from.”
“You’re right.” My mouth twisted in a grimace. “Too bad I couldn’t have heard that five months ago.”
Reclining back on the sofa, Daniel shrugged and popped a piece of muffin into his mouth. “What’s a relationship without a little drama?”
I frowned at him. “This is more than a little bit of drama, Daniel. We need to discuss-”
“You said you’re twenty-four,” he interrupted. “When’s your birthday?”
“June seventeenth,” I said automatically. “And I’m serious, Daniel. I can see you don’t want to - wait.” In a flash, I realized I had no idea how old Daniel was. He certainly looked older than me - if only by a few years - but if he was still in college, how old was he really? Oh God. What if he was considerably younger than me? What if he was only twenty or twenty-one? What if he was a teenager? Logically I knew that wasn’t the case, but at the moment logic wasn’t playing a big part in my thought process. “When…when is yours?”
“When is my birthday?”<
br />
“Yes,” I whispered.
He grinned. “Afraid you’re robbing the cradle, huh?”
At my jerky nod he stood up again, lifted the chair that was on the other side of the bookcase, and sat it down right next to mine. “Relax, Imogen.” Wrapping an arm around my stiff shoulders, he drew me closer to him. “Relax,” he murmured, kissing my temple. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you. But there’s nothing to get yourself worked up over. I’m the same age as you. Well, technically four months older. My birthday is in March. March eighth.”
Daniel was twenty-four? How could he be the same age as me? He was still in college!
“Transfer, remember?” he said, once again reading my mind. “When I left Ohio State I lost most of my credits and basically had to start over. Between work and taking care of my mom, I’ve only been able to take three classes a semester. Which is probably why we never ran into each other on campus.”
“What’s your major?”
“Now it’s business finance, but before it was sports medicine.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “Like I said, the credits weren’t exactly transferable. But I’m getting there. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be three credits away from graduating after this semester and I’ve already enrolled in a summer class which should do it.”
If everything goes according to plan…
I was pretty sure getting involved with one of his professors hadn’t been part of Daniel’s plan, and I felt horribly selfish as I realized that up until this very moment I had only been thinking about what would happen to me if we continued our relationship and we were discovered. But there would be consequences for Daniel as well. I didn’t think the college would expel him, but how could I know for sure? How could he?
If we didn’t stop seeing each other, I’d be risking everything: my job, my career, my reputation. But Daniel would be risking something too. Something he’d been working towards for a very long time.
Learning to Fall Page 20