To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)

Chapter 1 Noel

Noel

“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” - Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

A sick nausea swirled through me as I stared at the paper in my suddenly clammy hand.

She’d given me another D. I’d actually tried, too. I had planted my ass in a chair, focused all my attention on the assignment, and typed out the complete required five pages of crap. There hadn’t been a single plagiarized line in the entire essay either.

And it had all been for another fucking D?

“Unbelievable,” I gritted out under my breath.

“Did you say something, Mr. Gamble?”

I lifted my face from the big red D on my paper to find dark eyebrows arched in smug supremacy. A shrewd green gaze penetrated me, daring me to question my score.

Jaw locked, I shook my head, my neck so stiff from the lie I barely got it to move. “Nope,” I said, my voice low enough it was barely audible. “Didn’t say a thing.” Not one damn thing.

Dr. Kavanagh eyed me a second longer, her expression gloating.

I knew my narrow-eyed glare and clenched teeth only fed her ego, but I couldn’t help it.

I also couldn’t help the way my stupid, betraying man-whore eyes sought her ass when she turned and continued up the row between desks to hand out the rest of her graded papers.

Fortunately, the hem of her frumpy suit jacket dipped down to cover the back of her skirt, hiding any feminine curves she might have, because I’m not sure I could’ve fully appreciated a nice ass at the moment.

But being rejected from the view only pissed me off more.

It figured she would give a guy a sucky grade and then deny him the pleasure of ogling some tight, rounded goodness.

Didn’t matter how ridiculous she looked in that getup either—kind of like a little girl invading her grandparents’ closet to play dress up—an ass was an ass, and I wanted a glimpse. Blame my Y chromosome.

Eyeing her huge shoulder pads and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, I was tempted to tell her the eighties had called, wanting their blazer back.

It’d probably coax a derisive laugh from the class.

I’d maybe even get her to blush or some shit, which would sure as hell make me feel better for the way she’d just humiliated me.

Tit for tat and all that. But my jaw refused to unclench enough to form actual words.

Seriously, how dare she give me another D after all the work I’d put into her stupid assignment? Did she realize how hard I’d tried, how much I needed a decent score?

“Psst. Hey, Gam.” Oren Tenning, my favorite first-string receiver and roommate, leaned across the aisle to get my attention. “How’d you do?”

I rolled my eyes in the irritated universal symbol for don’t ask. “You?”

“Another C. I swear Kavanagh is afraid of handing out an A.”

“I got an A.” Sidney Chin, the ultimate teacher’s pet, twisted in her seat to wave her paper merrily in our faces.

As the scarlet letter at the top of her essay flashed by, I noticed there was also a plus sign attached to it. There had been no such positive mark beside my D.

Tenning snorted. “That’s because you have tits, honey. I swear to God, Kavanagh must be a dyke. She doesn’t give an A to anyone with a dick, especially if he’s on the football team.”

I winced at his offensive retort, wondering how long it’d take before one of his stupid-ass comments got him into trouble, even as I silently agreed about the football part of what he’d said.

Kavanagh had treated me like a dumb jock from the moment she’d discovered I was the university’s starting quarterback.

It was completely beside the point that I was a jock and not at all academically inclined.

But I tried, damn it. Wasn’t like I blew off the work for better things; I’d actually put a lot of fucking effort into making a good grade.

Did she have to so gleefully rub my shortcomings in my face?

“If anyone has questions about your grade, feel free to see me after class.” Her voice rose above the hushed conversations echoing around the room, making me roll my eyes.

Yeah, right. I bet I could go see her about my score. She’d probably turn my D into an F if I questioned her hallowed opinion.

But Jesus Christ, what the hell was I supposed to do now?

Rubbing the center of my forehead as a headache started, I tried to calm myself because this wasn’t the end of the world just yet.

It was barely March. I still had time to repair my grade, but holy freaking hell.

With each paper I’d written in this class, I’d put in twice the effort, only to get half the score.

I was going to lose my scholarship if I didn’t pull at least a C in Modern American Literature.

And I needed this scholarship. More than I needed anything.

“Since The Great Gatsby is now out of the way, we’re going to begin Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath next. I want everyone to read the first hundred pages and make a few notes about how the theme of changing your dreams is important in the text. We’ll discuss our discoveries the next time we meet.”

As she blathered on about symbolism and some other writerly crap I didn’t get, I flipped open the book to the back where biographies were kept so I could scan Steinbeck’s details.

When I realized good ol’ John had been born in 1902, I snorted.

What part of over a century old made this modern literature? Jesus.

“...and with that, I hope everyone has a great weekend.” Dr. Kavanagh’s chipper voice grated against my already pounding temples. “See you guys next Tuesday.”

Oh, I was sure she’d have a grand weekend. She was about to ruin the life of her least favorite student. All was roses on her end of the spectrum.

As people around me gathered their things, I shoved my worthless essay into the depths of my bag along with my English book, wondering why I’d even bothered to try. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t cut out to graduate from college. I was already defying fate by making it this far.

You’re a nobody. The voices of all my grade school and high school teachers echoed through me. You’ll never amount to anything, just like your trailer park trash whore of a mama.

“Hey, Noel baby.” The silky, feminine voice that startled me out of my rising panic made me jerk my head up as I approached the exit.

I couldn’t say I was disappointed to find a pair of football groupies closing in on me, though, hmm, I hadn’t realized I shared this class with these two ladies.

In fact, I wondered if they even took Modern American Literature or if they were here merely to see me.

It wouldn’t be the first time random girls had followed me into a class they didn’t take. It kind of came with my image.

“You look all depressed.” Tianna Moore ran her hand soothingly up my arm as she pressed against my side. “What’s wrong, handsome?”

Tianna was an experienced groupie, and I’d hooked up with her a few times. Leaning into her, I welcomed all the sympathy I could get. “I didn’t make the grade I was hoping to get on my paper.”

“Oh, you poor thing, you.” Her fingers tickled my elbow, then my shoulder. When they landed at the base of my neck where she cupped the back of my head, she swayed closer. “Want me to kiss it all better for you?”

Exhaling a sad sigh, I shrugged. “You could try, I guess.”

She touched her lips to mine, and I let her.

I loved the warm, wet feel of anything feminine.

When she opened up and pressed her tongue into my mouth, I obligingly tangled it with my own.

My dick stirred with a pleasant hum and I cupped the side of her face to continue the contact before another pair of hands grabbed me and tugged me away.

“I want to kiss it all better too, Noel.”

Not one to disappoint a lady begging to kiss me, I broke away from Tianna to glance at the second girl.

I knew her face but couldn’t remember her name.

A vague, blurry image of her at some wild after-game celebration told me I might’ve hooked up with her too, but I couldn’t be positive about this one.

Curious if I remembered her kiss, since I was kind of a connoisseur of kisses and could always recall a notable mouth, I bent toward the redhead and let her wrap her arms around my neck before she stuck her tongue in.

No fond memories rose, but she was a little more enthusiastic than Tianna had been, making me think maybe I hadn’t bagged her yet, but she wanted me to, hence the reason she was so avidly giving me a resume of her oral accomplishments.

And she would not be getting a D.

A sharp clearing of the throat shot a bolt of pure testosterone down my dick, making every nerve ending I possessed crackle like a live wire.

I pulled away from hottie number two, blinking myself back to reality, curious to discover the source of that strangely rousing sound.

..until I glanced toward the instructor’s podium.

Dr. Kavanagh watched the three of us making out in her room with narrowed eyes and a mouth puckered in prim disapproval.

The sight should’ve shriveled up my budding arousal like a bucket of ice-cold water straight to my junk, but alarmingly, seeing her watch me suck on some other girl’s tongue only juiced me up more.

Not for the first time, I wondered how old she was.

Vinegar and piss must really preserve a body, because there was no way she could be as young as she looked.

I definitely would’ve carded her if she’d been a stranger who’d come into the bar where I worked.

Without a wrinkle in sight, her lips had that fresh, inexperienced plush look about them, making them young. ..and incredibly kissable.