Текст книги "Pushing the Limits"

Автор книги: Brooke Cumberland

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ASPEN

Working side by side with Professor Hampton has felt intoxicating. I’ve felt high most of the day. In fact, I feel that way every time I’m near him. He just…he makes me feel so nervous and giddy. It’s like a combination of a six-year-old just finding out she’s going to Disney World and going to an interview for your dream job.

It’s a pile of mixed emotions, but there’s also the fear.

I don’t date for that very reason. I chose not to get too close to guys to keep from getting attached, but I haven’t even kissed him, and I already feel attached.

“So what made you choose CSLA?” he casually asks as we fold the tables down.

“It was as far away from home as I could possibly get,” I reply a bit too honestly. He tilts his head up and looks at me as if he’s trying to read me. “I’m from Illinois originally. I didn’t want to stick around after high school.”

“That’s understandable. I think most kids your age like to get away for college.”

Most kids? I brush it off and ask him the same. “What about you? Where’d you come from?”

“From here originally. Then I moved to Ohio for a job.”

“And?” I probe as we move the tables off to the side.

“And what?”

I suspect he’s not telling me the whole story although I can’t really blame him. It doesn’t stop me from trying to get it out of him, however. “And why are you now back in California? Where’d you teach before that? Why’d you move? Give me something…”

“I got my heart broken and needed to get out of town. I taught part-time at Ohio University but had some things here I needed to take care of so I came back and found a job at CSLA.”

“Add in a dog custody battle and you’ve got yourself a country song.”

He snorts.

“So what made you want to major in art history?”

“Wanted to incorporate something I’m passionate about into a future career,” I say, reciting my usual generic response I give to anyone who asks about my major.

He stops what he’s doing and stares at me. “That’s the biggest piece of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I glare at him. “It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.”

“You know how I know it’s bullshit?” he asks, and I flash him a bemused expression.

“Please tell.”

“Your left eye twitches. That’s a dead giveaway.”

I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my eyes, wondering if it really does twitch. “Maybe I just have a twitching problem.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m actually quite sensitive about it.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Well, then I apologize for my rudeness.” I can tell he’s mocking me, but I’m not about to give in to the fact that he caught me lying.

“Thank you.” I can feel the tension in the air between us getting thicker and thicker. My pussy clenches at the thought of his full lips on mine…kissing, licking, sucking.

I blink the fantasy away.

He smirks, obviously not buying any of the shit I’m feeding him. However, I’m not about to go down memory lane with a guy I hardly know. A guy who’s my professor nonetheless.

“What did you major in?” I find myself asking to fill in the silence as we walk out of the room. “Something in philosophy?” I guess, knowing most students majoring in philosophy end up in a completely different career.

The corner of his lip curls up in amusement. “Biology.”

“Biology?” I ask in surprise. “How’d that happen?”

He glances over with a shrug. “I was making a political statement.”

“Ah…defiance against your parents.”

“Exactly.”

“So, how’d that pan out for you?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I dropped out in my third year.” I raise a brow, urging him to explain more. “I told my parents I needed to take a year off to ‘self-reflect.’”

“Ah…self-reflection. The best excuse to take off from college.”

“It was.” He smiles. “I did a little of everything. I started reading and writing for fun. Eventually, I branched out into drawing and painting. Then I tried learning the guitar.”

“So what made you stick with drawing and painting?” I ask as we slow down to a halt, facing each other chest to chest.

“Ended up being the only thing I was good at.”

I burst out in laughter.

“You think that’s funny?” he challenges, taking a step and closing the gap between us.

“No…I…” I place a hand over my mouth, trying to conceal the laughter bubbling up in my throat. “It’s actually pretty pathetic. Sad even.”

He rubs his fingers along his square jawline, a wicked grin forming on his lips. “I’m going to let that one pass,” he states. I focus on his hands and his lips, at the same time, wondering how they’d feel on me…his lips soft and sweet, and his hands greedy and firm.

“You know, it’s probably not too late to reconsider putting one of your pieces in the student section.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“For the gala. Are you scared?” He takes a step, and I walk side by side with him again.

“No.”

“C’mon. Just one piece. It could be a canvas of a gorilla even.” He flashes me a teasing grin.

“I don’t paint gorillas.”

“Dogs?”

“No.”

“Sunsets?”

“Nope.”

“Landscapes? Trees? Trees are a popular choice. You could do a full, green leafed tree, or fall colors like reds and yellows, or could even add a brook streaming nearby. Add in a sunset and you’re golden.”

I really wish he’d stop talking. The moment he mentions trees, my body tightens, and I hold my breath.

“Or we could always make a bet. I win, you have to put something in, you win—” He pauses briefly. “Aspen?” He tilts his head and steps closer. “Are you okay? You aren’t blinking.”

“No, I just need a moment.”

“What’s wrong? You’re pale.”

“I’ll be okay, just need a moment,” I repeat while trying to focus on getting my senses back.

“You’re not okay. Are you having an anxiety attack?”

Yes. “No.”

“Yes, you are. Sit down.”

I comply and sit on the chair he grabs for me. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Good air in, bad air out. I imagine my whole body relaxing, starting with my toes and working my way to my head. By the time I get to my hips, my heart rate has lowered and my breaths are less labored. I continue through the breathing technique, more so that I have an excuse to avoid the questions I know Morgan is going to have once I feel normal.

“Doing all right?” he asks, still kneeling down in front of me. His hand brushes against my cheek, brushing a piece of my hair that fell out of my ponytail behind my ear. “You scared me there for a moment.”

I nod, keeping my eyes low to the ground, embarrassment flushing my cheeks. “Yes, I think so.”

“Can I get you anything? Water? Crackers? Soup?”

I lift my eyes to him and snort. “I’m not sick,” I remind him. “But thank you. I’ll be all right.”

He continues staring at me for what feels like minutes but is only a few seconds. He’s got that look in his eyes, that very look I dread anytime someone sees me like this. I feel weak and helpless, and I hate that look.

“You should go home. I can finish…” he begins, but I cut him off.

“It’s my sister.” I close my eyes and exhale.

“What?”

“She fell from a tree,” I explain. “That’s how she died,” I clarify and open my eyes to him focusing on mine. “I watched her fall to her death.”

“Oh my God, Aspen…” he gasps, his features drop in a frown. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’s the reason I started painting in the first place. I needed an outlet, a way to express my emotions.”

“She’s your muse.”

“Yes. I paint her to keep her alive. I know it sounds stupid—”

“Not at all.”

“I’m afraid I’ll forget her. That day after day after day, I’ll forget what her voice sounded like. How her obnoxious dancing made me laugh until I cried. How her smile and laughter were contagious.” A tear slides down my cheek, and I close my eyes to keep them in. “I feel so guilty.”

“Aspen,” he says softly. “Aspen, look at me,” he demands, but I can’t do it. I squeeze my eyes tighter, hating that I’m sitting in front of my panty-melting hot professor crying like a two-year-old. I feel his fingers press under my chin, tilting my face up. My eyes reluctantly open, grabbing my attention back to him. “There you are.” He smiles sweetly. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I can’t believe that. I was up there with her. Her hand was in my hand, her eyes pleading for me to save her. I should’ve fought harder.”

“If it was her destiny, you couldn’t have,” he says genuinely, but I hate the truth in his words.

“You believe in destiny?” More tears slip down my cheek, my throat burning with every beat in my chest.

He sucks on his lower lip for a moment before responding, “Yes. I do.”

I lower my eyes and whisper, “I’m not sure what I believe in anymore.”

“It can’t be easy losing someone so close to you, especially at a young age.”

“She was my identical twin,” I say, lowering my eyes. “Not easy doesn’t even touch the surface.”

“You hadn’t told me that before.”

I look up, his eyes lost but filled with concern. “Like I said, I don’t like to talk about her.”

“You can always talk to me about her. Or even just about how you’re feeling.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want me to?”

“Because everyone needs someone to talk to, and I can relate in some respect. If you’d let me, I can be a great listener.”

I’m surprised by his generosity, but I’m still reluctant to talk about it. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about her, I just have this fear that by talking about it will mean I’m accepting it.”

“Well, you can talk about it, or you can bottle it up inside you until you burst with resentment for not having anyone to talk about it with.”

“Bottling it up has been working fine for the past six years,” I retort. He glares at me, and I know I’m only fooling myself. “I just feel…” I pause, trying to collect my thoughts and find the right words for what I want to say. “Do you think it’s possible to feel like a part of you is constantly missing? Like…never feeling complete.”

He nods, his lips part for just a moment, but he stays silent.

“I feel like I’m only half a person and it’s the half that doesn’t know how to function emotionally.”

“Considering she was your twin, I’d say it’s very possible. Twins share a bond that regular siblings don’t.” The truth in his words causes an ache deep in my chest. Sharing a bond doesn’t sound strong enough for what I felt with her.

I nod in agreement. “Ever since the accident, I feel like my soul has been ripped out from underneath me. Not only is a part of me missing, but also it’s the part that knew how to function emotionally and mentally. Most of the time, I find myself faking it just to keep on going.”

“Your art isn’t fake,” he says matter-of-factly. “Your art is very real. What you put into your paintings is deeply emotional. It tells a story that you’re mind is expressing visually since you can’t vocally.”

“Yeah.” I smile, choking back a sob. “It feels like home when I paint. Comforting. It feels natural.”

I feel his fingers slowly rub against my jawline as he lifts my head up. Our eyes meet, and before I can take a breath, his mouth covers mine. His hand slides around my neck, pulling me closer and kissing me deeper. I lean into him as his warm lips nudge mine open, sliding his tongue in to claim mine. His other hand wraps effortlessly around my waist as he shifts his body in between my legs. A deep moan releases from my throat as his chest presses firmly against mine. I can feel how chiseled and tone his body is as he squeezes my hip and closes the gap left between us.

A soft whimper escapes from my lips as he pulls back slightly. My chest moves rapidly up and down as he draws my lower lip in between his teeth, lightly biting and groaning. My body goes into overdrive as I wrap my arms around him, soaking up every inch of his mouth. His hold on me tightens as our bodies mold together in a heated kiss. It’s better than I even imagined and the soft groans coming from his throat tell me he feels the same.

My heart is racing in my chest, thumping hard against my ribs as I feel what this man is doing to me. I’ve kissed plenty of guys before, but it’s never felt like this.

Realization comes crashing back that we’re at the gallery and someone could catch us at any time. I don’t want to stop, but I know we’ll be risking it if we don’t.

“Um…” I say against his lips. “Someone’s going to—”

I feel him smirking against my mouth, my body shivering at the way his lips feel on mine. “Going to what?” I open my eyes and see he’s taunting me.

His lips softly kiss mine, slower now, almost torturous. “I’ve wondered what it’d be like to kiss you.” His voice is smooth, genuine, my breathing speeding up at how hard my heart is pounding in my chest.

He releases my lips for one short moment before wrapping a hand around my throat and pulling me closer once again, his eyes intense and greedy.

“And now that I’ve found out, I can’t stop.” The corner of his lips tilt, flashing one of his deep dimples.

“Do you normally go around kissing your students?” I tease, breaking away just enough to see the eagerness in his eyes, hungry and desperate.

“Just the ones I really like.” He winks and a soft chuckle releases from my throat.

“Good to know.”

He presses another soft kiss on my lips before standing up and holding his hand out for mine. I place it in his and stand up so we’re chest to chest.

“And for the record, I’ve never kissed a student of mine before.” His finger rubs along my cheekbone, brushing the hair back behind my ear.

I smile, loving the way his hand feels against my flushed skin. “I’ve never kissed one of my professors before. But then again, none of them had ever looked like you either,” I taunt, earning a pleased smile in return.

“Good to know.”

The sound of easy chatter grabs our attention as it becomes apparent people are coming this way.

“I should go—”

“I’m going to—”

We both say at the same time. I laugh at how nervous I am, how nervous he makes me when just a moment ago, his body and lips were all over mine.

“We’ll talk later, okay? I’m going to help Aunt Mel finish up.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead before sliding his hand down my arm and giving my hand a quick squeeze.

I watch as he walks away, my mind spinning at what just happened. I bring my fingers up to my lips, swollen and warm, my body still humming at the way it felt to have him pressed against me.

I smooth my hands down my shirt and stand up straighter before heading back to the front of the gallery as if nothing had happened.

MORGAN

Kissing Aspen is something I’ve fantasized about for weeks.

I know I shouldn’t have, considering she’s my student and the consequences could really screw me, but the moment she opened up to me, I couldn’t stop myself. She walks into my classroom, so strong and confident in her work, but there’s so much she’s covering up on the inside.  The force I feel to be near her is undeniable.

I hate that I had to leave her after that, but I don’t intend on staying away for long.

Aunt Mel and I go through the rest of her to-do list for the event. Going over and over the same things I already know, but I amuse her and listen anyway. I know talking about it aloud helps her mentally organize everything.

We go over the catering instructions, the wine list, the guest list, and itinerary. She repeats herself so much, I start filling in her words for her.

“Morgan!” she scowls.

I laugh. “Well, you’ve told me the list three times now, Aunt Mel. I got it.” I kiss her cheek. “It’s going to be amazing. Stop worrying.”

“All right. Fine.” She smiles with a sigh. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over. Let’s just say that.”

“Yes, but all your hard work will pay off. I’m sure of it.”

It’s after seven before I finally get out of there. I know Natalia is going to be mad, but I’m hoping the sleepover she’s planned for this weekend puts her back in a good mood.

I arrive back home with Natalia half asleep in the passenger seat. My mom said she’d been quiet all night and couldn’t get anything out of her. So I plan to fix that.

“Wanna talk?” I ask as soon as I kill the engine.

“About what?”

“Whatever you want.”

She furrows her brows. “Nothing in particular comes to mind.”

“Natalia, c’mon. How dense do you think I am?”

“Well, going by your Ralph Lauren slacks, button-up shirt, and slicked back hair, I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

“You have way too much time on your hands if you know the brand names of my clothes.”

“I have good fashion sense, so sue me.” She grips the handle and lets herself out.

“What’s wrong with my pants?” I chase behind her, but she ignores my question. “We can order pizza and binge on ice cream,” I offer, unlocking the door. “But you have to talk.”

I push the front door open and she steps in. “Fine. Let’s talk about why you hated my father.”

My breath hitches, and I swear I hear a pin drop the moment her words hit me. But I know she’s not stupid. Of course, she knows something was up between us considering I never called or visited.

I just wasn’t planning to have this conversation for at least a few more years.

We settle in with a cheese pizza and a quart of chocolate ice cream on the couch. I know I can’t tell her everything, but it’s only fair she know I didn’t hate him. I was mad, sure, but I’ve always loved my brother.

“Okay, so spill. I’m eating, aren’t I?”

I narrow my eyes at her snarky tone. “I didn’t hate him, Natalia. I shouldn’t have gone so long without talking to him. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

“Why’d you stop talking to him?” she asks, taking a bite.

I don’t want anything I say to change how she feels for her dad, so I sugarcoat it the best I can. “We had a disagreement. I was mad and hurt for a really long time and instead of mending our relationship, I let it stew.”

“Are you still mad?” she asks.

“Yes. But not at him.”

“Then who?”

“Myself. I’m mad about our last interaction. I’m mad I didn’t come back before it was too late.”

“Being mad is a lot of work,” she admits.

“It is,” I agree.

“Do you think God punishes people?”

Her question catches me off guard and it takes me a moment to really grasp what she’s asked. “I can’t say for sure.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“Do you think you’re being punished?”

She shrugs and lowers her eyes. “Sometimes, I guess. It’s hard not to feel that way when you lose both of your parents before they even get to see you graduate middle school. I miss him so much.”

I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer. “I do, too, Shorty. But I do know one thing…” She looks up at me with those hopeful and bright blue eyes. “He loved you so very much. He’d want you to be happy.”

“I feel guilty.”

“For moving on?” She nods. “Yeah, I know that feeling, too.”

“How do you get over it?”

I wish I knew the answer to that. “That’s something we’re going to have to figure out together.”

She smiles and leans her head on my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head and let her lay there until she passes out. I carry her into bed and tuck her in as quietly as I can without waking her. I put the pizza and ice cream away and then finish cleaning up the rest of the living room.

I sit down on the couch with a thud and stare up at the ceiling. Thoughts of Ryan and me come to my mind. Thoughts of how close we were, how much I looked up to him, how much we had in common.

I should’ve known he’d had a thing for Jennifer, but I ignored all the signs. I didn’t want to think that my own brother would go after someone I was dating and planning to marry. Even though I was enraged, I wish I would’ve given him a second chance. A second chance to explain, apologize, admit he loved her—anything.

I wish I had given our relationship a second chance before it was too late.

I try to hold back the tears like all the other times, but this time, I let them fall. I let them fall so I can relieve the pain inside.

“Morgan?” I hear Nat’s voice, and I quickly rub both hands over my face.

“Yes?” I stand up and find her leaning on the doorframe.

She flashes a sweet smile and says, “He’d want you to be happy, too.”

Natalia’s words repeat over and over in my head all night long. I try and sleep, but sleep never comes. I think of all the things we used to do as kids, the way we’d mess with each other, and spend every Saturday outside.

There was a time we were inseparable. That was all before Jen, of course. He went off to college before me, but once I met her, our time together became less and less. There were holidays and special occasions, but it wasn’t nearly the same. We lost contact somewhere in between, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Natalia was born and just a few years after, his wife, Lena, passed away. It was hard on all of us, but it destroyed him. Ryan was alive, but he was hardly living. It was obvious he was taking Lena’s unexpected death hard.

She was driving to work one day when an elderly woman hit her straight on and was killed instantly. I tried my hardest to get closer to him after that. Raising a child on his own and feeling lost, he started drinking. I’m not exactly sure when he started to fall for Jen, but I know I hadn’t seen it coming. Although I should’ve, I was too invested in my own little world to really see what was happening around me.

Natalia would stay with my parents a lot. I’d help by picking her up and taking her out to do fun things. She was just a toddler, so we’d go to the pool or park, anything to keep her out of the house while Ryan drank himself to near a coma.

I tried to help, get him into counseling, but he refused. My mother cried daily, wanting to help and send him to rehab, but again, he refused.

Perhaps it was Jen’s psychology background, but she managed to get him talking. She’d spend hours over there, trying to get him to express the pain he was feeling. I can’t say I blame him for falling in love with her. She was easy to fall for with her sweet southern belle personality. I figured she was finally getting through to him, finally helping him sober up, but she was just helping him replace a void that ended up ruining all of our lives.