Forbidden Professor – Southern Heat Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
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He joined me on the stage, and we made our way to the table, sitting down as plates and glasses were brought to us by Mark and my mother. The food was delicious, and I realized I had a voracious appetite. I hadn’t eaten all day and wasn’t about to pass up food now.

The speeches made by the boys were hilarious and heartfelt, and my mother and the girls all made speeches too. When Mom was done with hers, she approached the table and kissed the top of my head.

“There was one more thing I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to include it in the speech,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well, I approached Camden and Victor a couple of days ago about the possibility of moving to Texas,” she said. “I wanted to be closer to you, and I like it here. Even being alone, I think.”

“Really?” I asked. “You would be willing to move closer to here?”

“Actually, I was thinking about moving to Murdock itself,” she said. “Victor said he would help me with a loan, and we found a place right at the county line with Slater. I move next month.”

“Oh, Mom, this is wonderful news!” I said, hugging her tightly. “And you didn’t tell me,” I said to Camden.

“I promise, that’s the only kind of secret I will keep from you,” he said.

25

CAMDEN

“Are you sure about this?” Kristen asked, looking down from our perch.

“No,” I said. “No, I am not. However, we are already here. And this won over jumping out of an airplane.”

“Somehow, I feel like there should have been more options than those two,” she said, still unmoving, the wind blowing her hood back a little so I could see her hairline. She reached up to tug at it and nearly slipped forward.

“Well, there was the beach,” I said.

“Mmm, the beach,” she muttered.

“You said we had already done enough beaching with Spring Break,” I said. “Are you saying you were wrong?”

“I am saying that past me made problems for future me that are now coming to present me, and present me is not a fan,” she said. “But if I stand here any longer, I am going to freeze to the spot. Who goes first?”

“You,” I said. “That way if you fall somewhere, I can come get you.”

“How comforting.”

“I love you.”

Kristen sighed. “I love you too,” she said.

Leaning forward, she began to slide down the tiny ramp and onto the snow, skis pointed forward rigidly like we had been taught in the class twenty minutes before. I had a feeling that as soon as panic set in, all the other lessons were going to go right out of the window.

I watched as she went down the hill in a straight line, not moving to either side and keeping herself crouched. It wasn’t fancy, but it was skiing. I had to give her that.

Now it was my turn.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself and set off after her.

Immediately, I ended up face-first in the snow, sliding endlessly toward her at a mile an hour. I tried to force my elbows under me, but I just ended up slipping and falling again. An employee of the resort was by my side in seconds, helping me to my feet as I tried to laugh it off. Ahead of me, I could see Kristen, blissfully unaware of anything happening to me, still crouched in the same position as before, still going about a mile an hour down the slope.

I managed to get down to her, slowing myself down by crossing the skis like they taught me, and she looked over briefly before snapping her attention back to the snow ahead of her.

“You look like you did well,” she said sarcastically.

“Fell right on my face,” I said.

“That’s why I am using the don’t go fast strategy,” she said. “Not as exhilarating, but no snow in my bra.”

“You have like twelve layers on,” I said. “I know because I watched you get dressed.”

“Didn’t want to risk it,” she said. “By all means, you can zoom down there if you like.”

“I’m not going without you,” I said. “But I will say this. The faster we get down this hill, the faster we can take off these skis, admit our defeat, and spend the rest of the weekend in a hot tub, eating room service.”

She seemed to mull that over a bit and then made the tiniest adjustment to her skis, separating them ever so much so they weren’t completely lopped over each other.

“Fair enough,” I said, copying her.

We made it down the hill in record time, assuming the record is longest possible trek down. I was pretty sure we were lapped by a couple of children and some little old grannies.

As we stomped into the clubhouse, trying to shake off the cold, and in my case, snow, Kristen went directly to the bar. By the time I had gotten my coat off and hanging on the wall by the fireplace, along with my scarf and gloves, she came back with two cups with steam coming out of the tops.


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