Pushing the Limits (16 page)

“Oh, yeah. I just grabbed a quick bottle of water from the vending machine. I’ll eat when I get home. I have some studying to do anyway.”

“I figured you’d be with your boyfriend,” I blurt out, trying to make my voice sound as casual as possible. “You could’ve taken a longer break. I wouldn’t have minded,” I lie but sound completely genuine.

She tilts her head at me and frowns. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She shifts her eyes back down to the table and grabs another piece. “Not even close.”

“Really?” I raise my brows.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, remember?”

“I do. I just haven’t figured out why not.”

She gives me a stunned look. “I just don’t.” She shrugs, but I know there’s more to it—much more.

I want to press for more, but given the fact that we’re surrounded by gallery employees and anyone could be listening in, I don’t.

But that doesn’t stop me from thinking of every possible way to bring it up later.

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.