But I restrained myself.
She’d been staring out the front window, probably at the lights again, when suddenly, she looked over. “I read your paper.”
Her quiet words made my already unsettled stomach roar with anxiety. “Yeah. You already graded it and gave it back to me, remember? We had an entire discussion in your office over whether I deserved an A or not. And how you’re going to keep my dirty little secret for me.”
“Right,” she murmured softly as if suddenly remembering. “Yeah, I guess I owed you a secret, then, didn’t I?” She smiled but it wasn’t very happy. Her green eyes lifted. “I was so turned on the entire time you were blowing up at me, telling me to take that A back if you didn’t deserve it. If you’d have kissed me that day, I would’ve kissed you back. And more.”
Holy fucking shit. I shoved open the driver’s side door and hurled myself out of her car. The cool air was a welcome shock to my arousal. But then she opened her door and got out too.
“I, uh, I’m going to call my cab now.” God, that sounded lame, but she was drunk. I couldn’t do anything about all her confessions. Not now.
She nodded, then shivered and hugged herself before she started toward the sidewalk, which led to her front porch. When she stumbled and nearly went down, I cursed a little louder and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
“Wait,” I called, darting after her and catching her arm just as she tripped again. “Let me help you.”
She swayed my way until she was leaning against me fully. I had to slip my arm around her waist to keep her upright. Fuck, who would’ve guessed she’d have such a tiny waist?
Tipping her face up, she grinned engagingly. “It was the best essay I ever read, you know.”
“Hmm.” I swallowed, refusing to respond, and helped her up the steps onto her porch. When she couldn’t seem to find her keys in her purse, I jiggled them to let her know I still had them after driving. She grinned and stepped aside, gladly letting me take over.
“Your grammar still sucked ass,” she went on as I unlocked the door. “And you’d probably lose a spelling bee to a first grader, but...oh my God. It made me cry. I read it over, and over, and over. I even photocopied it like a creepy stalker, so I could continue to read it after I gave it back to you. And every time I look at it, I bawl my eyes out. For you.”
Lifting her hand, she caught a piece of my hair and idly brushed it across my forehead to sift it out my eyes. The sensation of her fingers on me was like an electric shock. Powerful, startling. A complete rush to both my hormones and my heart.
My mother had slapped me before for saying something out of line, or she had shoved me aside for getting in her way. Girls I’d hooked up with had dug their nails into my ass when I made them feel good. My siblings had huddled close to me when they were frightened. Teammates had slapped my back in congratulations. But no one had ever touched me like this, with pure, honest affection as if they wanted to take care of me.
“You’ve been through so much,” she murmured, sympathy ruling her tone. “Have so much to deal with. I want to hunt down your mother and hurt her for what she put you through.”
I sniffled out a sad smile just as I pulled the key free of the lock. But I was no longer in such a hurry to get her inside...away from me. I forced my attention back to the front door, but I wanted to keep looking at her. Stare at her just like she was—soft, sweet, and a little vulnerable—for the rest of my life.
Her hand dropped from my hair only to land on my arm. Warm and soft, her fingers teased and seduced as they slowly trailed a scorching path down to my elbow.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I thought you were like him. But you’re not. You’re nothing like him.”
Say what? I glanced from her fingers on me and up into her eyes. “Like who?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she sniffed and wiped her palm over her cheek, the move making her look like a little kid instead of an accomplished college professor. “He made me hate football players. Especially quarterbacks. He made me...he made me cold and lonely. Hollow inside. But you would never do that. You would never hurt anyone the way he hurt...”
When her words trailed off, a burning hot pile of anger uncoiled in my stomach.
“What did he do?” I coaxed softly. She didn’t answer. It only enraged and worried me more. “Aspen? Is he the one who…who raped you?” Shit. No wonder she’d always given me such a hard time. I reminded her of that.
I hated knowing I did that to her.