To Professor, With Love Read online

  TO PROFESSOR, WITH LOVE

  by

  LINDA KAGE

  To Professor, With Love

  Copyright 2014 by Linda Kage

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book—except in the case of brief quotations in reviews—may be used or reproduced without written permission of the author.

  Contact Information : [email protected]

  Publishing History

  Linda Kage, May 2014

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Kage Covers

  Editor: Stephanie Parent

  Proofreader: Brynna Curry at Sizzling PR

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  For all the English teachers who taught me to love literature:

  Mrs. Coltrane, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Sand, Mrs. Lomshek, Mrs. Hefley, Mrs. Elrod, Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Tilley, Mr. Parsons, Mrs. Lee, Ms. Halloran, Dr. Spitzer, Ms. Washburn, Dr. DeGrave, Dr. Carlson, Dr. Hermansson, Dr. McCallum, and Dr. Teller.

  Thank You.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “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

  ~NOEL~

  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.

  Which was an unexpected, disturbing thought I wanted to scrub from my brain with acid and a wire brush. What freak thought about their most detested teacher that way? Still, that mouth lacked age lines that would cup an older woman. She had to be in her early twenties, even though that couldn’t be possible.

  “Excuse us.” I smirked as I curled my arms around both Tianna and her friend and escorted them from the lecture hall.

  Kavanagh might be like every other educator in my life who’d told me I was shit, but here, in this world, I was a king, and I needed my groupies to help remind me of that. The girls giggled and snuggled in around me, more than willing to oblige.

  “Want to come to lunch with us, Noel?” Tianna asked, rubbing my back, while her friend smoothed a palm over my chest. “We have something especially tasty for you up in our room.”

  Her companion snickered at the not-so-hidden double meaning. “You’re into...sandwiches...aren’t you?”

  Oh, hot damn. A threesome. I was tempted. I mean, what guy wouldn’t be? A couple hours between the sheets with a pair of no-strings-attached beauties would ease my nerves, a lot, but…

  I winced. “I really shouldn’t. I have another class I can’t miss.” I couldn’t afford to flunk one course, let alone two.

  “Are you sure?” the redhead asked, her fingers trailing downward now. “We’d make it worth your while.”

  I caught her hand so she couldn’t tempt me into changing my mind just as my cell phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. Offering her another apologetic cringe, I shrugged. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but...rain check?” Please.

  Her wide smile was instant. “Of course.”

  “All right, then. I look forward to it.” Grinning, I swatted her on the ass, nudging her along. Tianna hooked her arm through the redhead’s, and the two girls strolled away.

  With a wistful sigh, I stole a moment to enjoy their firm backsides sheathed in tight denim as I blindly dug my phone free. I answered, unable to take my gaze from the snack I’d just turned down.

  “What’s up?” Even as I spoke, my eyes tracked those swaying hips. Maybe I could meet up with them later today because seriously...a threesome.

  “Noel?” The girl on the other end of the line sniffed. “Colton’s sick. He won’t eat or get out of bed. I don’t know what to do.”

  Alarm, thick and instant, roared through me, immediately ripping my thoughts away from sex. “What’s wrong?”

  I plugged one ear with my finger and turned my back to the sprawling campus to move away from the sidewalk. The shadow of a small tree growing by a row of perfectly trimmed hedge didn’t provide the privacy I would’ve liked, but it would have to do.

  “I don’t know. He has a fever of a hundred and four and says his throat hurts.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my face. Fuck. “Have you called the doctor? Is he drinking enough fluids? Where’s Mom?”

  “I don’t know.” Caroline exploded into a round of sobs. “She hasn’t been home all week. Colton begged to stay back from school yesterday and since he hadn’t missed yet this year, I thought it’d be okay. But he’s worse today and—”

  “Okay, okay.” Out of habit, I lifted my hand to stop her, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “It’s going to be fine. Just calm down. He probably has strep throat or something like that. See if you can get him to take some Tylenol and water. Get that fever down. I’ll contact the doctor’s office and find out if they can see him today. Call you back in a few.”

  I hung up on my sister before she could pile any more shit on me. Caroline had been forced to shoulder a lot of responsibility after I’d left home, but I was doing the whole college bit and gunning for a pick on the NFL draft for them, so I could take care of her and our two younger brothers.

  Because our mother sure as hell didn’t give a shit.

  Relieved I had saved the number of Colton’s pediatrician in my phone after last year when he’d gotten chicken pox, I dialed the receptionist and was grateful they could fit him in for a late afternoon checkup.

  When I called my sister back, she sounded calmer. “Thanks, Noel. I’m sorry I freaked on you. I just—”

  “Hey, no apologies. I know what it’s lik
e, remember? And that’s what I’m here for. Just let me know what the doctor says. Oh, and wait, do you have any money for the appointment or medicine they’ll prescribe?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. I have...a little tucked away.”

  I winced. From her reluctant tone, I knew she’d have to take from her private stash she’d probably been hiding from Mom. That was what I’d always had to do.

  “What were you saving for?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “Caroline.” The warning in my voice made her sigh again.

  “I just…there’s a sweetheart dance coming up at school. And Sander Scotini asked me go. I was hoping I could afford a new dress—”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” I shook my hand to stop her. “Hold up. Sander who? Do I know this kid? Why have I never heard of him before? Is he your boyfriend or just a date for this dance?”

  “Noel.” I could practically hear her rolling her eyes, but I didn’t care. It pissed me off that this was the first I was hearing of her and some guy. I didn’t like the idea of any horny dick sniffing around my pure, innocent little sister.

  “And did you say Scotini? As in Terrance Scotini, the tire king?” A visual of the commercials I’d watched on TV when I was growing up flashed through my head. Terrance Scotini liked to stroll through his store, wearing a dorky cape and crown, telling his audience to shop at his place for all their automotive needs.

  “His son,” Caroline quietly admitted.

  The hairs on the back of my neck spiked with concern. I knew my sister was nearly eighteen and almost legally an adult, but she was still my little sister. Always would be. I didn’t want some rich prick’s son thinking she handed things out for free just because she was Daisy Gamble’s daughter.

  “Is he—?”

  “He’s nice,” she stressed. “And he likes me for me, okay. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “What? That no piece of slime ball shit bag will ever be good enough for my little sister?”

  She laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “What about his parents?” I pressed, still not liking the idea in the least. “Are they okay with all this?” Because if they treated her with anything less that absolute respect, I’d snap. I’d just...snap.