Learning to Fall (22 page)

He lifted his head, revealing eyes dark with a need that went far beyond making out on a kitchen counter. “I want you, Imogen.” His hands slipped beneath me, cupped my butt, and pulled me against his crotch, letting me know
exactly
how much he wanted me.

I felt the hard length of his arousal like a searing brand against the softness of my inner thigh. Helpless to resist the clawing ache inside of me I rubbed against him and he groaned, eyes pinching closed as though he were in physical pain.

“Now,” he rasped. “I want you
now
, Imogen.”

And I wanted Daniel.

In that moment of raw heat and burning passion I wanted Daniel so badly I almost forgot about Whitney waiting upstairs and what would happen if the college discovered I was sleeping with one of my students.

I almost forgot…until I didn’t.

“No.” Reluctantly, I dropped my legs and leaned back on my palms in the hope that some space might help cool both of us down. “We can’t. My roommate is upstairs and the college-”

“To hell with the college,” he said fiercely. “To
hell
with them.”

I had seen Daniel’s soft side. I’d witnessed firsthand his thoughtfulness and kindness. But this side of him - angry, frustrated, belligerent - I had yet to see until now.  I laid a restraining hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal,” I began, going back to what we’d said on Monday night, “but the truth is-”

“The truth is we’re two grown adults  and if we want to have sex in your kitchen we should damn well be able to have sex in your fucking kitchen!” He raked a hand through his hair, saw my expression, and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, little fox. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m not angry at you.”

I slid off the counter. Barefoot, the top of my head barely reached his chin, forcing me to tilt my head back in order to meet his tumultuous gaze. “Maybe you should be. I lied to you, Daniel. All of this is my fault. That’s - that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about before…well…” I glanced guiltily at the counter. “You know.”

“I do know,” he said dryly as he glanced pointedly down at his bulging erection. “Trust me, I know
very
well what we almost did.”

A warm blush stole across my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know this is-”

“It takes a lot to really piss me off, but if you say ‘this is all my fault’ one more time it might just happen.” He scraped his fingers across his chin. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me the truth about your job from the beginning, but I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. Just like I know even if you had told you were a professor we’d still be standing right here, in this kitchen. Because some things are just meant to happen the way they’re meant to happen.”

My throat tightened. “Why are you making this so hard?”

A fleeting smile touched his mouth. “Little fox, love was never meant to be easy.”

He could say that again. What made it even harder - what made it almost impossible - was that it was
Daniel
standing in front of me. Were it anyone else, I knew my decision to end the relationship would be - if not easy - then at least tolerable. But it
wasn’t
anyone else. It was Daniel. Sweet, handsome, thoughtful Daniel. A man just mysterious enough to ignite the tiny spark of interest I’d always carried inside of me (even though I hadn’t known it) for the dark, brooding Heathcliff type. A man who wasn’t put off by my intelligence or annoyed by my awkwardness. A man who could make me happier than I’d ever dreamed…if I would only let him.

In
Wuthering Heights
Catherine chose duty and honor over lust and love, ultimately causing her - and Heathcliff - immeasurable pain and misery. If I chose my career over Daniel, would I be damning us both to a similar fate?

“You’re thinking with your head again,” he said abruptly, startling me from my thoughts. “Let’s eat those muffins before they get cold.”

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since late yesterday afternoon. Consumed with work, worrying about Daniel, I hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. “We can eat in the living room. It’s a little warmer and sunnier in there. How do you like your coffee?”

“Half and half if you’ve got it, otherwise black is fine. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“No, of course not. It’s down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Save the biggest muffin for me, alright?” He flashed a smile. “I’m starving.”

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions ricocheting around in my head, I returned his smile although it felt empty and hollow, like a vase without any flowers. “I can do that.”

“Imogen…” He drew me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pressing his mouth to the top of my head. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmured against my hair. “I promise.”

Fighting back a sudden rush of tears, I managed to nod. “I know.”

Waiting until he’d disappeared down the hall, I stooped down and picked up my tank top and sweatshirt. Putting on the tank top I crumpled the sweatshirt against my chest, using it to muffle the sound of my pounding heart as I slumped against the counter. The counter Daniel and I almost just had sex on even though I knew he was my student.

What the hell was I doing?    

Every other year or so another student-teacher relationship was making headlines. Headlines that were never kind to either person involved. Headlines that used words like ‘immoral’ and ‘forbidden’ and, in some of the worst cases, ‘rape’.

I knew what Daniel and I had wasn’t any of those things, but to the college it wouldn’t make a difference. Shockingly, some universities and colleges actually
allowed
professor-student relationships. Stonewall wasn’t one of them. An affair with a student was grounds for immediate dismissal, no exceptions, which meant there really shouldn’t have been a question as to what I needed to do. The answer was clear. It was simple. It was logical.

Unfortunately, as the impromptu makeout session in the kitchen had just proved, I was no longer capable of making a clear, simple,
logical
decision. Because as Daniel had pointed out, what we felt for each other defied all logic and reason.

Desperately needing to shut off my brain, if only for a few minutes, I concentrated on breakfast. While the coffee brewed I set two matching plates and napkins onto a serving platter and carried everything out, including the muffins, into the living room. Sunlight spilled in through the large bay window, giving the room a soft, warm glow. A comfortable (albeit very out of style) sofa Whitney and I had found on Craigslist sat against one wall. Two mismatched chairs and a bookshelf were on the other with a cream colored rug and a refurbished coffee table in between. It wasn’t very fancy - certainly nothing like the antique furnishings and priceless persian rugs I’d grown up with - but it was cozy, and, more importantly, it was home.

Setting the serving platter down on the table, I returned to the kitchen for the coffee. When Daniel came out of the bathroom I was already sitting in one of the chairs, a blueberry muffin resting untouched on my lap. “That’s yours,” I said, pointing at the coffee mug and muffin I’d left on the coffee table. Picking them up, along with a napkin, Daniel settled across from me in the middle of the sofa.

“This is nice,” he said, looking around. “Very cozy.”

I darted a quick glance at him, forced to wonder - not for the first time - if he was somehow able to look inside my head and read my thoughts. “Thank you. If our landlord will let us, we want to paint some of the rooms in the spring.”

“What color were you thinking for this one?”

“Sage green.”

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds good to me.” He blew across his coffee before taking a sip. “This is good too. Is it local?”

“I got from the market in town.” Hesitating, I tried to remember the name. “French Brown?”

“Brawn.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “French Brawn. Did you try a muffin yet? They’re Gracie’s speciality.”

“I thought pancakes were her specialty,” I said as I peeled off the wrapper and set it neatly aside on my plate before biting into the muffin.
Delicious
. It melted on my tongue, a sweet, fluffy combination of sugar, flour, and blueberries that tasted as though they’d been picked this morning despite the five inches of snow on the ground.

“Those too. Awesome, right?”

“Amazing.” If Daniel wasn’t sitting across from me there was no doubt in my mind I would have shoved the entire muffin in my mouth, but since he was I forced myself to take dainty, ladylike bites. “Please tell her I said thank you.”

Breaking his muffin in half, he took a generous bite. “Why don’t you tell her yourself tomorrow morning? Unless you’re busy, I thought we could try breakfast again.”

The muffin in my mouth suddenly tasted stale and I had to force myself to swallow it down. Meeting Daniel’s expectant gaze, seeing the lazy curve of his mouth, I swallowed again even though this time there was nothing to force down my throat except for dry saliva. “Daniel I…I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

His eyes remained leveled on mine. “Because you’re not a soccer coach and if people saw us together you think they might get the wrong idea.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “Exactly.”

Genuine confusion dug tiny grooves in his forehead. “Why did you say that you were a coach instead of a professor? It doesn’t matter now either way and I’m not blaming you but…I guess I just don’t understand why you would lie about something like that.”

Even before I got Daniel’s text this morning, I knew I would have to explain myself. If not today, then tomorrow. If not this week, then next. It was something that couldn’t be avoided…and something I wasn’t any closer to knowing how to explain than I had been on Monday night. “I wanted to seem normal.”

“Why would being an English Professor not be considered normal?”

Looking at it from his point of view, I could see how ridiculous I must have sounded. But at the time, the lie hadn’t seemed ridiculous. At the time, the lie had seemed
necessary
. Trying to think of how to make him understand, I toyed with a crumb that had fallen onto my lap, rolling it back and forth between my thumb and pointer finger until it dissolved.

“I graduated from high school at fifteen,” I said finally, forcing myself to look up at him. “I graduated from Harvard - the first time - when I was nineteen. I got my masters when I was twenty-three, and I’ll have my doctorate by the time I turn twenty-six. That’s not normal, Daniel. What I did…what I had to give up…” Seeing how bemused he still was, I shook my head in frustration. “I know what it sounds like, and I’m not complaining. I swear. It’s just that I never got to have what other teenagers had. What other college students had. And that night at the bar…with you…I just wanted to be a regular twenty-four-year-old. For once, I wanted to be normal.”

“Imogen.” Putting his coffee down, he stood up and came around the side of the table to crouch beside me. Putting a hand on my knee, he squeezed tight. “You’ll never be a regular twenty-four-year-old. You’ll never be
normal
.”

I closed my eyes as his words sank into my skin like tiny hooked barbs.

“And that’s why I’m in love with you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ultimatums

My eyes popped open. I couldn’t have heard Daniel correctly. But then why was he smiling? Seeing my incredulous expression, his smile turned into a chuckle and he squeezed my knee again.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“Not - not
that
,” I admitted.

“I mean it. I should have said it before now. Little fox, I love you
because
of your differences, not despite them. I like that you’re a little quirky. A little socially awkward. A little shy.” His thumb brushed against the inside of my thigh. “I even like it when you get nervous and spout off random facts.”

“You do not.”

He rested his chin on my knee and looked up at me, gaze bright with amusement and something else I didn’t think I’d ever seen in his eyes before. Something shiny and new and gleaming with possibility. Something that made me feel safe and protected and adored.

Is love something you can see?
I wondered.
Can you touch it? Taste it? Is this what love, true, unfettered, unconditional love, feels like?

“Of course I do. How else would I know smoking can cause cervical cancer and Charles Perrault invented Cinderella’s pumpkin?” He kissed my leg through my pajama pants before he stood up. “If going to Harvard at fifteen made you into who you are today, that’s something you should embrace, not hide from.”

“You’re right.” My mouth twisted in a grimace. “Too bad I couldn’t have heard that five months ago.”

Reclining back on the sofa, Daniel shrugged and popped a piece of muffin into his mouth. “What’s a relationship without a little drama?”

I frowned at him. “This is more than a little bit of drama, Daniel. We need to discuss-”

“You said you’re twenty-four,” he interrupted. “When’s your birthday?”

“June seventeenth,” I said automatically. “And I’m serious, Daniel. I can see you don’t want to - wait.” In a flash, I realized I had no idea how old Daniel was. He certainly
looked
older than me - if only by a few years - but if he was still in college, how old was he really? Oh God. What if he was considerably younger than me? What if he was only twenty or twenty-one? What if he was a
teenager?
Logically I knew that wasn’t the case, but at the moment logic wasn’t playing a big part in my thought process. “When…when is yours?”

“When is my birthday?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He grinned. “Afraid you’re robbing the cradle, huh?”

At my jerky nod he stood up again, lifted the chair that was on the other side of the bookcase, and sat it down right next to mine. “Relax, Imogen.” Wrapping an arm around my stiff shoulders, he drew me closer to him. “Relax,” he murmured, kissing my temple. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you. But there’s nothing to get yourself worked up over. I’m the same age as you. Well, technically four months older. My birthday is in March. March eighth.”

Daniel was
twenty-four
? How could he be the same age as me? He was still in college!

“Transfer, remember?” he said, once again reading my mind. “When I left Ohio State I lost most of my credits and basically had to start over. Between work and taking care of my mom, I’ve only been able to take three classes a semester. Which is probably why we never ran into each other on campus.”

“What’s your major?”

“Now it’s business finance, but before it was sports medicine.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “Like I said, the credits weren’t exactly transferable. But I’m getting there. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be three credits away from graduating after this semester and I’ve already enrolled in a summer class which should do it.”

If everything goes according to plan…

I was pretty sure getting involved with one of his professors hadn’t been part of Daniel’s plan, and I felt horribly selfish as I realized that up until this very moment I had only been thinking about what would happen to
me
if we continued our relationship and we were discovered. But there would be consequences for Daniel as well. I didn’t
think
the college would expel him, but how could I know for sure? How could he?

If we didn’t stop seeing each other, I’d be risking everything: my job, my career, my reputation. But Daniel would be risking something too. Something he’d been working towards for a very long time.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered before he pushed my ponytail aside so he could kiss the slim column of my throat.

“You…you do? Daniel, what are you doing?” I gasped as he began to nibble his way down my shoulder, tugging on the sleeve of my sweatshirt to reveal soft, creamy, sensitive flesh.

“You’re thinking of everything that can go wrong.” His teeth sank in for a tiny, teasing nip that made me moan. “When you should be thinking of everything that could go right. Starting with this.” He slipped his hand underneath my sweatshirt and skimmed over my stomach before gently cupping the underside of my breast. My nipples turned hard in an instant, and I could tell by the husky chuckle vibrating against my neck he was pleased by my body’s reaction to his touch.

With Justin, it had always taken a frustratingly long amount of time for me to get turned on. I’d always blamed myself. I certainly knew
he
had blamed me.
Come on
,  he’d coax as he pinched my nipples, eliciting nothing more than a dull twinge of discomfort.
Get wet for me, baby.
At which point I had always done one of two things: either rolled onto my side and mumbled an excuse (I don’t feel well, I’m on my period, etc.) or I’d mustered a smile and feigned a response. It wasn’t
always
bad. I even came once or twice. But it was never good. And it was certainly nothing compared to what I felt when Daniel touched me. One low, teasing sweep of his hand against the crotch of my pajama pants and I was all but panting in his ear, squirming across my chair to get closer to him.

Gripping me by the waist, he lifted me up and settled me on his lap, sliding my legs along his hips. My bare toes touched the wall as I pressed myself against him and, taking a page out of his own book, tentatively slid my tongue along the outside curve of his ear.

To my surprise - and delight - his response was instantaneous.

The deep, strained sound of his throaty groan woke something wicked inside of me. Knowing
I
was responsible for the glazed look in his eye and the hardness bulging against his jeans was a powerful aphrodisiac. It made me want to do things. Things I’d never done before. Things I’d only read about in the naughty new adult novels I kept hidden on the bottom shelf of my bookcase. Purposefully meeting his gaze, I allowed myself to sink into stormy grey waters as I rocked my hips forward, pressing the hottest part of me against the hottest part of him.

“Imogen,” he rasped, gritting his teeth.

All innocence, I lifted a brow. “Yes, Daniel?”

He grinned at me, a wild, reckless grin that made me think ‘
uh oh
’ a split second before he grabbed my bottom with both hands and squeezed. “You’re killing me.”

“And me. Jesus, this is hot. Oo, are those blueberry muffins?”

“
Whitney
!” Yelping my best friend’s name as she sauntered casually into the living room, I tried to stand up, but my right leg hooked on the back of the chair and I ended up sprawled face down across Daniel’s lap. His quiet snort of laughter only intensified my mortification, and by the time I managed to untangle myself and stumble to my feet my face was a deep, burning red. “Whit, what are
doing
?”

“Eating a muffin.” Scooping up what remained of mine, she plopped herself down on the sofa and took a huge bite. “Mmmm, fiss is weally good!” she said, spraying crumbs everywhere.

Watching my best friend make quick work of the breakfast Daniel had brought, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It wasn’t just that Whitney had walked in on Daniel and I in a rather compromising situation I would have rather remained private. It was that we’d officially crossed the line we’d both been toying with since Monday night, and now we had a witness.

I knew Whitney would never say anything. She wasn’t that sort of person. Her secrets had always been safe with me, and I knew she would keep mine just as carefully. But the facts were the facts. Whitney was an employee of Stonewall. If they ever had cause to question her about Daniel and I, she’d have to tell them what she knew. I would never ask her to lie for me. Not at the expense of her own job.

Careless
, I berated myself as I tugged my sweat shirt back into place.
Careless and stupid, Imogen.

“You know what she’s thinking, don’t you?” Whitney asked Daniel. 

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he said.

“You better nip that in the bud. Our girl doesn’t like to break the rules, even when she has the best excuse imaginable.” Polishing off my muffin, Whitney leaned back and crossed her legs. Like me, she still wore her pajamas and for once her face was devoid of makeup, making her look more like a teenager than an adult. “Mo also doesn’t mess around.
If
you get what I’m saying.”

“I do.”

“And if you start something,” Whitney continued, “you better finish it the right way.”

Confused, my gaze darted across the room between the two of them, feeling as though I’d walked in on the middle of a conversation instead of being present for the start of it. What in the world were they talking about?

His expression more serious than I’d ever seen it, Daniel said, “I plan on it.”

“You know…” Squinting at him, Whitney picked up what little remained of Daniel’s muffin and chewed thoughtfully. “I think you really do. I like him, Mo.” Abruptly refocusing her attention on me, my best friend smiled brightly and tipped her stolen muffin in my direction as if it were a glass of champagne and she were making a toast. “You have my blessing.”

“Your blessing for what?” I asked cautiously.

“To have lots and lots of hot wild sex with this handsome man here. Although if what I walked in on is any indication, you’re doing that already.” She winked at me. “Go get ‘em, girl.”

“
Whitney
.”

“What?” All innocence, she crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to find a guy I could give my official blessing to? A
very
long time,” she informed Daniel. “You should have seen the stiff she dated before you. Total white collar. Thank
God
that didn’t go anywhere.”

I closed my eyes and counted to three, hoping Whitney would somehow magically disappear, but when I opened my eyes again she was still sitting on the couch enjoying every single second of my obvious discomfort which only intensified when Daniel’s arm shot out and hooked me around the waist.

“Sit with me,” he said, nuzzling the nape of my neck as he hauled me onto his lap. I sat awkwardly, too tense to relax. I may have been writhing against him two minutes ago, but that had been then and this was now and I’d never been very comfortable with public displays of affection.

“I don’t… That is, we’re not…” Frustrated with my inability to convey what I wanted to say, I huffed out a breath. “We’re not dating. I mean, we
are
,” I said quickly when Daniel pinched my butt. “We definitely are. What I mean is, we don’t know
what
we are. Or what we’re going to be.” 

“You don’t?” Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “But he brought you muffins. If that’s not a serious declaration of love, I don’t know what is.”

“I did bring you muffins,” Daniel agreed. “And I did tell you I loved you,” he added so softly only I could hear.

Bracing one hand on his thigh, I twisted around. “I know you did but-”

“You didn’t like his muffins?” Whitney asked. “I thought they were delicious.”

“They
were
, but that’s not the-”

“If you don’t like blueberry,” Daniel cut in, “I can bring cinnamon next time.”

“I
love
cinnamon,” Whitney said.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the double chocolate chunk.”

“They sound amazing. Maybe you should bring a sample over.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Can we
please
stop talking about muffins?”

“Sure.” Tightening his grip around my waist, he kissed my shoulder. “What do you want to talk about, little fox?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. There were plenty of things we needed to talk about, of course, but nothing I felt comfortable addressing in front of an audience, even an audience of one. Daniel and I needed to figure out exactly what we were going to do. We needed to establish a plan. A plan supported by specific rules and boundaries. The first step would be identifying our relationship. We’d obviously moved past the ‘just dating’ phase, but despite the muffin evidence to the contrary, we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. At least, I didn’t think we were. Or did you automatically become an official couple when one person said ‘I love you’ to the other? Should I have said it back to Daniel? Or was it too late now? And if I did say ‘I love you’ did it mean we were agreeing to stay together? And if we did, what would happen if-