Page 25 of Falling for the Quarterback

What am I going to do? Even as I stand on this precipice of indecision, I am no closer to figuring it out.

When I open the door, I find him standing there, his head slightly bent at an angle, thumbs hooked in his jean pockets, casually leaning against the front porch railing. Looking like he belongs here, without a care in the world.

Of course, he looks hot enough to fuck with his messy hair and chiseled jaw. How is a woman supposed to stand firm and not cave when this man is in front of her? The universe is so unfair.

“May I come in?” he asks, lifting his flirtatious gaze to me. When I don’t move and remain silent—I’m not even sure what to say—the corners of his mouth curve into a knowing grin.

He glides forward with that cocky confidence of his, sidestepping me as he enters the house, and I shut the door behind him. The minute I turn around, his body crowds mine against the door, his strong arms caging me in as he leans forward.

He inhales, breathing in the scent of me, and my own breath stops, my stomach flutters wildly.

“Mmm…you smell good, Professor,” he murmurs, running the tip of his nose along my cheek before planting a gentle kiss on it. Then he takes a step back, offering me much-needed space to think straight, and makes a sweeping glance around my living room, as if he never got a good look the first time he was here.

I step away from the door and into the room, side-stepping Joel to take a seat on the sofa all while making myself a promise to keep my lustful behavior buried tonight. My stomach takes this moment to loudly protest with a hungry growl and I realize I haven’t had dinner yet. Joel’s eyebrows fly to the ceiling.

“Have you eaten? I was thinking of ordering some Chinese takeaway.”

Joel moves to the smaller sofa across from me and sits down. “Sure. I could eat. Sounds good. Thanks.”

I pull up the delivery app for the only Chinese restaurant in town, trying to stall this conversation and catch my breath. But I can’t help watching out of the corner of my eye as Joel casually extends an arm along the back of the cushions ever so coolly, his legs opening into a V as he effortlessly props one foot over a knee. The move has his T-shirt tightening to outline the rolling hills of his abdominals underneath, and the denim of his jeans stretches oh-so-perfectly over his muscular thighs, outlining what I know is a very large package.

It’s easy to see why so many women on campus—and probably men too—are obsessed with him. He’s sexy when he’s not even trying.

I give myself a mental shake. Stop this madness immediately.

Taking a spot on the chair across from the couch, I punch in my order and then hand the phone over to him.He takes it from me, looks at it and then sets it down next to him. Then he pulls out his own phone and dials a number that must be in his contacts.

“Yo, Big Mike. It’s Hendy. I need to place an order to go. Yep. Awesome.” I give him an incredulous look. Didn’t I have this handled?

Hendy rattles off a list of food that could probably feed an entire football team, including the items on my list.

“Uh-huh. Yep. Thanks. See you in fifteen.”

“What was that all about?” I ask, completely perplexed by what just transpired.

Hendy gives me a lopsided grin. “I know the owner and his son. Mike and I had a class together when he was a senior and I was a sophomore. He needed some help getting football tickets for his dad’s business partner and I hooked them up. Since then, I’ve been a VIP.” He pauses and shrugs. “Perks of being a football player in a college town. What can I say?”

Of course he’s friends with the owner. Why wouldn’t he be? Hendy is known in these parts by everyone.

If CFU had a mayor, it’d be Hendy.

Joel moves and stretches, his T-shirt lifting a fraction of an inch to display those ridiculous abs, and I look away. Gah. I can’t even trust myself to look at him, much less be near him.

Which brings us back to the reason why he’s here tonight.

“You said you wanted to talk to me, and here you are. So go ahead. While we wait for dinner, say what you need to say.” I hope to sound convincing, even though my hands shake with nerves and there’s a slight tremor in my voice. I slip my hands under my butt and draw my heels up on the couch cushion.

He purses his lips in consideration and finally nods. “Okay…why did you come to the US?”

“What? That’s a random question and not what I thought we’d be discussing.”

He laughs and shrugs. “Just want to get to know you better.”

I throw out my hand for him to stop. “Nuh-uh. There is no need for that because after tonight, this ends.”

“Come on…indulge me a little,” he says in a crestfallen voice. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. Open book.”

“Joel,” I say, a pleading look in my eyes. “We can’t. You’re my student.”

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