Page 4 of Valentine's Kisses
I place my hand on my cheek, missing the feel of his skin against mine already. “R…really? You liked my drawings?”
His smile is broad and indulgent. “I really, really did. Those drawings of the girl reading a book…there was something magical about them. You captured her very essence.”
“Those were drawings of my sister,” I say softly.
“You must love her a lot. That came across in your drawings also. Y’all must be really close.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I sniff loudly. I look around the room, noticing for the first time that everyone else has already cleared the room. “We were close. She, um, passed away two years ago.”
His hand immediately reaches for mine and squeezes it. “I’m so sorry, Gabrielle. So damn sorry.” The sympathy in his magnetic eyes almost breaks me. He curses softly. “Shit, I probably shouldn’t call you Gabrielle. I should try to keep things professional between us.” He tilts his head. “What is it about you that makes me want to crash through every boundary that exists for us?”
I step closer to him, feeling his body heat and wanting to erase the pain of all my stark, lonely days. I place my hand on his chest. “I like you calling me Gabrielle,” I murmur.
He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “You shouldn’t.” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “We need to maintain ourdistance, beautiful girl. You make me want to throw out every damn rule book there is. I can’t because you deserve better.”
I take a step back and nibble on my bottom lip. “You’re right, Professor Michaels. We should keep things professional.” My heart falls when he nods in agreement. I stuff the box of pencils in my backpack and hike the heavy pack over my shoulders.
“I’m really looking forward to your class though,” I say, while moving towards the open doorway.
When I glance back at him, he’s staring at me with the same look of wanting as before. “I’m looking forward to you being in my class, Gabrielle.”
I turn back around and walk away, each step feeling like I’m walking away from something important.
Chapter Four
Mean Girls and My Princess
She looks beautiful and completely fuckable. She looks like she’s meant to be mine. -Flynn
Flynn
For the next two weeks, I try to ignore every instinct that tells me Gabrielle is my girl, but that’s the way I think of her. My girl is quiet and keeps to herself. I’m apparently an archaic asshole, because I’m happy that she stays away from the guys who stare at her during class. I’m not the only that’s noticed the classy blonde, but I will be the one to have her. There may be obstacles to stand in my way, but at some point, she will be mine.
My stomach jumps with nerves and lust as I watch her bite down on her bottom lip. She chews on it while she watches the model with intense concentration. The model steadily holds an apple in her right hand. Before the semester ends, the class will end up drawing both male and female body parts and a male nude model. I have no idea how the hell I’m going to handle my girl staring at some other guy’s naked body. My instincts tell me I will probably go whacko and end up throwing a blanket over the poor guy.
Her brow furrows as she looks at her drawing. I stand up from my desk and walk over. She’s drawn a beautiful, intricatecharcoal sketch of the model’s hand. The curves and lines are delicately balanced to show all the nuances I’ve talked to the class about.
“Wonderful job, Gabrielle,” I murmur. “Amazing detail.”
I try not to visibly inhale her scent. She smells like berries and cream. In other words, she smells sexy as hell. I can’t help but wonder what other parts of her will smell and taste like.
She blushes and ducks her head. “Thanks, Professor Michaels. I wasn’t sure if I was doing okay or not.” She chews on her full bottom lip again and I clench my fists to suppress the bolt of desire that runs through me.
“It’s just a hand holding an apple. It’s not like she drew the Eifel Tower for Christ’s sake,” a whiny voice says from next to Gabrielle.
I cut my eyes toward the snarky voice. Monica Wexler. Of the famous Wexler clan. I was warned about Monica before this class started. She has a tendency to try to seduce her professors and then get them fired for it without any repercussions to her. She also has a modicum of talent for art, but brags about that talent so much that the staff rolls their eyes at her boasting on a regular basis. She’s got a reputation and she’s only a sophomore.
I clasp my hands behind my back. “Well, let’s see how you’ve done on this project so far, Ms. Wexler, since you seem to think this is so easy.”
I step over to stand in front of Monica’s easel. The lines aren’t delicate, and the curves aren’t subtle. Basically, it’s a hurried mess.
I cock my head. “Tell me, Ms. Wexler, look at Ms. Newsome’s drawing. Do you see a difference between hers and yours?” My voice is steady as I watch her roll her eyes and then look over at Gabrielle’s intricate drawing.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Looks the same to me.”
I stroke my chin. “Well, that’s going to present a problem for you in my class, Ms. Wexler, because there is a vast difference in what you have created and what she created. She took the time to look at angles and draw not only the big features of the hand, but also the little subtle ones.” I lift my hand up towards Monica’s easel. “You simply hurried along and drew a generic hand. You didn’t try to catch the callus on the thumb or the wrinkles on the palm. You drew a perfectly plain hand. And that’s not what I’m looking for. If you expect to pass this class, I’ll expect you to rise to the occasion and draw more than just the benign. I’ll expect you to draw with grace and empathy for the subject. Maybe that’s something that you’re lacking in other aspects of your life as well.”
Monica’s cheeks turn a fiery red and she gathers up her backpack. “I don’t have to stay and listen to this…this, crap! Do you know who I am, Professor Michaels? Or did you get knocked in the head too many times when you were a hockey player? I could get you fired tomorrow.” She spits the words out in a furious spout of anger.
