Page 7 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Seven

LAUREN

W aking up the next morning, I roll over, checking the time and wonder why I’m so sore, wincing at the ache in my lady bits.

Then it comes rushing back to me—Caleb and our dirty bathroom sex.

I flop back onto the bed and replay everything over in my head.

The man made me come not once, but twice .

I can’t even do that by myself with my vibrator.

Sighing, I throw back my covers and swing my legs out of bed, padding to the kitchen in desperate need of coffee. Sydney must be up because there’s a fresh pot brewed. Have I already said how absolutely amazing she is?

I sit on the sofa, sipping my coffee, trying to wake myself up when Sydney breezes through the door, fresh from her shower.

“Morning,” she sings. Did I mention Sydney’s a morning person? She’s like sunshine and rainbows this girl. I’m not even remotely human until I’ve had at least three cups of coffee, but I guess that’s why we work—opposites attract and all .

I yawn, before grumbling, “Morning.” Leaning my head back on the couch, I watch Sydney rummage through her stuff looking for god knows what.

Stopping what she’s doing, she walks over to the kitchen and pours herself a coffee. “How was last night?” she asks, leaning against the countertop and blowing on the mug.

“Good. One of the waitress’s said the bachelor party got drunk, started a fight and one of them puked over security as they were being led outside. Just your usual Saturday night.” I let out a very un-lady-like snort at the reminder.

Sydney chuckles. “God, I don’t know how you do it, girl.”

“You know I’m only there for the money. The tips are good, and the hours suit me.” I shrug as I finish the last of my coffee and move to grab another cup. “Are you rehearsing this week?”

“Yeah. The showcase is coming up soon, so I need to make sure I’ve got everything perfected.

It just sucks with this new dance instructor.

She’s a complete bitch, Lo! I swear she’s trying to make my life hell one plié at a time,” she groans, throwing herself dramatically onto the sofa.

“I don’t even know what I did to offend her but offend her I did.

” She rolls her eyes before they land back on me.

She sits up abruptly, a calculative expression on her face. “Erm, Lo? What’s that on your neck?”

I lift a hand to my neck, confused. “Huh?”

“That! The great big fucking hickey on your neck! Bitch, have you been holding out on me?” she asks as she jumps up from the couch and runs over to me, moving my neck from side to side to get a better look.

“Get off,” I laugh, batting her hand away and ducking out of reach. “It’s nothing.” I have two options: tell Sydney the truth about my hookup or deny everything. “Erm… I fell over?” I pose it as a question, hoping like fuck she’ll believe me.

Unfortunately, she knows me well enough to know when I’m lying. Which means she’s currently standing in front of me, hands on hips, waiting for my reply.

“Spill it,” she demands, quirking an eyebrow.

“Fine! I might have, sort of, hooked up with someone from the club last night.” The last part tumbles out in a slew of words that get quieter and quieter as I speak.

Sydney screams and I have to cover my ears to save myself from her screeching. “Oh my god!” She jumps up and down, her arms flapping around like a bird about to take flight. “Tell me everything. You haven’t gotten laid since Whatshisface, so I’m gonna need all the details here.”

Sighing, I tell her how I met Caleb in the hallway, how he followed me into the bathroom and what happened after.

Once I’m finished, Sydney asks, “Are you gonna see him again?”

“Of course not!” I exclaim. “It was a complete one off. I don’t even know what came over me, Syd.

I don’t do that sort of thing. I swear I was dickmatized.

He just flashed those damn dimples at me, and I was a goner, my pussy doing all the talking for me.

” I groan, slapping a hand to my face in mortification.

I can only hope he doesn’t return to Strokes to remind me of my blatant hussy ways.

“I mean, I don’t see a problem here personally. Sounds like you had a good time with a hot guy. I approve,” Sydney replies with a nod and a wicked smile. I’m debating on whether to slap her or kiss her… I’m leaning toward the former.

“You would, Syd. You’ll fuck just about anything that moves,” I tease .

“I resent that statement,” she cries in mock outrage. Walking over to the couch she sits down before saying, “But seriously, are you gonna see him again?” She looks at me expectantly, hand under her chin as she leans against the arm of the sofa.

“No,” I sigh, sitting down opposite her, with my coffee. “I didn’t get his number. It was epic sex but that’s it. I’m not looking for anything.”

Now it’s Sydney’s turn to sigh. “Just remember that there’s more to life than books, okay?” she softly says, a look of concern passing across her face.

“Okay,” I agree, because really, what else can I say?

Growing up all I had were my books. I’m the typical trailer girl who worked hard to get a scholarship to a university miles away from home.

My mom was never around and my dad? I never met him.

Mom said I was the product of a one-night stand, or that was what she told me when she was sober and around long enough to actually have a conversation with me.

Sydney pushes up from the sofa and places a comforting hand on my arm before grabbing her bag and discarded coffee from the counter. “Right, I’ve got rehearsals, so I’ll be out until later.”

I just nod, lost in thought.

I spent the rest of Sunday poring over my books in the hopes that I’d forget about Caleb, but it didn’t happen.

Flashbacks of his hands on me, gripping my ass while his face was shoved between my thighs on a constant repeat.

My vibrator had never seen so much action before and after the fifth attempt to get myself off, with no result, I gave up .

I’m just destined to become a nun.

Monday rolled round quicker than I’d like, my alarm going off at an ungodly hour to get ready. Once showered, I quickly get dressed in my leggings and Bullet For My Valentine hoodie—a staple in my wardrobe. The sleeves are now frayed slightly and the logo has faded due to so much wear.

I shove the books I need for the day into my bag, going over my class schedule in my head—my first lecture with Professor Anderson is this morning. Groaning at the thought, I decide to treat myself, so I take a slow walk to the new coffee shop that’s opened on campus—The Honey Pot.

The place is heaving when I get there, many students and professors with the same idea—grabbing a coffee before their first class of the day. I order a coffee—black, like my soul—in the biggest cup they sell, grab it and start the small hike to class.

Bringing the hot coffee to my mouth, I blow on it before taking a tentative sip, not wanting to burn my tongue. The slight breeze rustles my messy bun and causes a chill to run down my spine. I should have worn a coat .

I take Psychology 101 in one of the smaller, more tight knit classrooms while this class and English lit are in one of the many auditoriums. I hate Psychology, wanting to take literally any other course, but my high school guidance counsellor advised me to take it.

Marveling at the inside of Abingdon University never gets old, with its sleek and modern inside, this is the kind of stuff I could only dream about as a kid.

Holding my coffee in one hand, I use the other to open the door into Professor Anderson’s class and take a seat in the middle row. The large room starts filling up, the hustle and bustle of students opening their bags, talking, and getting set up ringing in my ears as I slowly drink my coffee.

I rest my head back and close my eyes when I hear a very familiar voice.

“Everyone, assignments are due this week.”

Fuck! It can’t be!

I jerk my head so quickly I’m pretty sure I’ve just given myself whiplash. Rubbing my neck to ease the ache, I then rub my eyes, hoping like fuck I’m dreaming. I give myself a swift slap for good measure.

Nope. Not a dream.

Because standing front and center is none other than Caleb. What the hell? My heart hammers in my chest, giving me that tight feeling as the realization hits me… hard—I slept with my professor.

“We have a new student joining us today, and you know how much I love to embarrass people,” he chuckles. “Miss Taylor, would you stand up and introduce yourself please.” Caleb glances around the room searching for the newcomer’s face— my face.

I shrink down in my chair, cursing myself that I didn’t think to put my hood up to hide myself further.

His eyes finally settle on me, and if it wasn’t for the shit storm of a situation we now find ourselves in, I’d laugh at his expression because it can only be described as a cartoon with its eyes bugging out.

His friendly expression shuts down quickly, his features neutral as he clears his throat.

“Miss Taylor?” Caleb pauses, watching me before slowly running his tongue across his bottom lip.

I’m so entranced with the act that I end up mirroring him and running my tongue across my bottom lip.

I look up from his mouth, finding his gaze still firmly on me and the world seems to stop .

Suddenly breaking our eye contact, Caleb moves to shuffle some papers around on his desk before saying, “See me after class for any missed assignments.” With nothing else said, he shifts the conversation onto the upcoming semester.

I finally let out the breath I’d been holding, my ears ringing and my vision going blurry from the clusterfuck of a situation I’ve got myself into.

Caleb is Professor Anderson? Professor Anderson is Caleb?

I spend the rest of class unable to concentrate, the low timbre of his voice going straight to my clit.

I’m lucky Caleb doesn’t glance my way again because I don’t think I’d be able to hide the emotions on my face.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t get the image of his head between my thighs to budge.

I’m completely tense and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to change my underwear before my next class.

Which is really freaking annoying seeing as the man is completely untouchable now.

When the bell rings, I hastily put everything into my bag, but a pen drops to the floor before I can catch it. Dropping down under my desk, I grab the runaway item and I shove it in my bag. As I stand up, I notice that the auditorium has all but cleared out, leaving Caleb and I alone.

So much for getting out before he saw me.

“Miss Taylor, a word please.”

Slowly turning round to face him, I plaster a fake smile on. “Erm, sure.”

Cal—Professor Anderson strolls around his desk, perching on the edge, his arms moving to fold across his chest as he looks at me, his face stoic and unreadable.

My heart races, as my gaze lingers on him.

It should be illegal for this man to look as good as he does.

He’s wearing a white shirt with the sleeves down, hiding the tattoos that I kno— stop, Lauren.

Do not check out your professor, even if he did give you the best orgasms of your life.

He continues staring at me, an eyebrow now raised as he catches me eyeing him up and I suddenly wish I was a mind reader—I have no clue how this is going to go.

I bite my bottom lip—a nervous habit I’ve had since forever—and Caleb’s eyes darken, his gaze following my movements.

“Is your name even Lauren?” he asks as he stands to his full height, anger radiating off him in waves and causing me to curl in on myself. Confrontation isn’t my thing, preferring to run away at all costs.

“Yes, I don’t use a stage name like the other girls,” I reply, wringing my hands together, my head toward the floor unable to meet his gaze.

Caleb goes quiet as he rubs his hand across his chin, like he’s mulling over what I’ve said.

This is so awkward right now.

I start shuffling from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something, but as soon as he does, I wish he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Hmm,” he muses. “Do you sleep with all of your clientele?” he asks, and my hackles rise.

Swinging my head toward him, I snap, “Excuse me? Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?”

What the fuck? I know this is an awkward fucking situation to be in but who the hell does he think he is?

My cheeks are bright red, I can feel the heat blazing from them, both from anger and embarrassment.

I mean, who sleeps with their professor?

Okay, I didn’t know he was my professor when I slept with him, but still.

He exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry alright? It’s not every day the best sex of my life happens to be one of my students,” he explains, his tone softening.

“Still doesn’t excuse being an asshole though,” I snark, before blowing out a breath and relaxing my body slightly. I know this isn’t all his fault. The blame lies with me, as well .

He nods. “No, you’re right. I’m just a bit thrown off. This could seriously damage both of us—my job, your scholarship—if this was to get out,” he states.

I sigh, rubbing a hand across my forehead. “I know,” I whisper, the fight from earlier leaving me. “I don’t plan on telling anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. Plus it’s not like it’s going to happen again.” I look at him pointedly and I swear his jaw clenches.

“Definitely not happening again,” he agrees, and I’d believe him if it wasn’t for the same desperate hunger in his eyes that he had that night. I try to ignore the heated flush that spreads over my cheeks again . I swear that’s all I do around this man.

This is wrong. On so many levels. I cannot lose my scholarship. Everything depends on me passing and making a good life for myself. I refuse to end up like my mom.

I’m breathing heavily, my hands clammy as we both lock eyes, neither one looking away as I wait for him to say something.

Finally he says, “So, we act like this never happened.”

“Yes,” I agree. Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. How do you forget a night that’s seared into your brain? A night that you will relive over and over in your head for the rest of your life?

He clenches his jaw again, a decision being made behind his eyes as he announces, “You need to catch up on assignments. My TA, Brad, is busy so you’ll need to come in once a week for extra sessions with me.

” He goes to his desk and shuffles some papers around, before handing me a sheet of paper.

“Here is this semester's reading material. Look at it and we’ll meet next week to discuss it.”

Clearly I’ve been dismissed. Annoyed, I turn and leave, heading for my next class. I wish I could say it didn’t hurt, because it does. In no world will we ever be together. I just need to forget about Caleb and move on with my life.