Page 14 of Falling for the Quarterback

Oh yeah, because I let his penis get inside me.

“Unknowingly,” I mutter to myself, as if I’m trying to explain it all away. I begin picking up and restacking the books I threw on the corner of my desk. A curse rips from under my breath as I notice a page ripped from one.

After placing the last book on my desk, I walk over to my chair, slumping into it and dropping my head in my hands. Half of me wants to believe this is all a bad dream, that when I uncover my eyes, I’ll be back in my bed and none of this would have ever happened.

The other half of me…my traitorous body…well, it’s happy as hell that the man who gave me the best night of sex ever just showed back up in my life.

“You’re going to get us sacked, you cunt,” I grumble, glancing down at myself to see the skin of my chest still splattered with red blotches. It’s my telltale sign that, as a redhead, I can never hide my feelings when I’m frustrated or angry.

Now that I’m a professor, I need to do a better job of controlling those feelings, especially where Hendy is involved.

Involved. That word could easily be used if anyone ever finds out about us. They’d assume we’re involved now, even though that’s farthest from the truth.

It will never happen again, despite the erotic images Joel painted for me about what he’d be thinking during every class. Despite not knowing who I was when we slept together, now that he knows I’m his professor, Joel now probably sees me as a challenge. Like some kind of conquest, trying to bang his older professor again.

His words come streaming back to me.

Jesus, that was so hot. Logically, I know I shouldn’t have liked it. It should’ve been offensive that he used such inappropriate language, and I should have admonished him.

But I wasn’t offended at all. Something about his suggestion ofcontrolturned me on. The thing is, I hate being controlled. It’s the reason why I left England.

Yet, here I am, my pussy throbbing in that needy way because of how Joel described his fantasy of me dropping to my knees and using my mouth again to get himself off.

I run a frustrated hand through the hair in my bun and yank it undone with a tiny growl, letting my hair cascade loosely over my shoulders.

What is wrong with me? It’s my first day in my new academic role and I’m getting overheated by the demanding and direct words of my student.

My mind drifts back unbidden to my ex-boyfriend, Oliver. He was everything my family thought was boyfriend material. Slightly older, well-established, and the soon-to-be head of a financial consulting firm in London. He was also a favorite lecturer at the Saïd Business School at the University of Oxford, which was seen as a highly respectable position to my parents.

But behind closed doors, Oliver was controlling and verbally abusive. After a childhood with my father, who was similar in nature, I’d become thick-skinned and adept at letting his verbal insults go. But after an event one night where he drank too much and forcefully grabbed my arm during an argument, I left him. I went to Poppy’s flat and applied to four PhD programs in the United States. I was accepted within three months and left a few months after that.

I have learned through exerting my independence that I don’t ever want to be treated disrespectfully or in a controlling manner ever again.

An inner rage begins to bubble to the surface once more. I won’t be seen as weak. Especially weak over a man. Never again.

A knock at my door startles me and breaks me away from my convoluted thoughts. I quickly straighten my blouse and glance at the handheld mirror in my desk drawer, wiping away a smudge of mascara before answering. Did Joel return to apologize? To tell me he’s dropping the class after all?

“Come in,” I state authoritatively.

The door opens and I’m shocked to see Hubert Collingsworth, a colleague of my father’s and an old family friend back in England.

“Hubert?” I say, completely surprised by his out-of-the-blue appearance in my office. Apparently, today is the day of reconnecting with unexpected acquaintances.

Hubert is one of the good ones. He’s kind and generous with his time, and nearing retirement age. His wife passed away a few years ago, leaving him widowed with time on his hands that he now spends traveling the world visiting family and friends, as well as guest lecturing at prestigious universities. Hubert reminds me of my own grandfather who died when I was young, and I have a soft spot for him in my heart.

“Hello, Charlotte darling. How is my favorite new professor?” he asks exuberantly as he walks over to where I now stand in shock, offering me a fatherly kiss on my cheek.

I throw my arms around him in a big hug and when I step back, I look at him in confusion. “What in the world are you doing here?”

He gives a small chuckle. “I was speaking with your father and he told me you recently joined the faculty at Clearview Falls. I just happened to have a speaking engagement not far from here this week, so why not pop by and see if I could steal you away for a pint?” he explains, giving me his mustached, warm smile.

“Oh, of course, I’d love to,” I offer, peeking at my watch to check the time. “But I do have other classes and a faculty meeting today. Could we meet up tomorrow evening?”

“Wonderful,” he replies, clasping his hands together firmly. “I’ll look forward to it. I’ve been told there’s a good pub just off campus called The Bear Paw. Shall we say six tomorrow evening?”

“That would be lovely. Do you know your way around campus or do you need directions?”

Hubert waves me off with a gesture toward the door as I grab my materials for my next class. “I’ll get directions from the hotel concierge. Don’t you worry about me.”

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