Professor sexy hockey ro.., p.1
Professor Sexy: Hockey Romance, page 1





Table of Contents
Epilogue
Thank You!
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
Also by Aja Cole
Stay Connected!
About the Author
Professor Sexy
Quick & Hot: Hockey Romance
Aja Cole
Contents
Thank You!
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
14. Epilogue
Also by Aja Cole
Stay Connected!
About the Author
Professor Sexy
Aja Cole
Copyright © 2018 by Aja Cole.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First Edition March 2018
To all of my family and friends that have supported me every time I’ve said, “I’m writing a book.”
I couldn’t have done it without your love and constant encouragement.
To everyone who reads my books and comes back for more…you fucking rock.
To my author friends and the people who let me vent and freak out and constantly inspire me to keep going…
Thank you. I love you all.
And to my baby leapfrog, may you always know how much you are loved.
Thank You!
I just wanted to say a quick thank you for giving my writing a chance, and I hope it gives you everything you’re looking for!
I like my love scenes steamy and my sweet scenes sappy.
Now, please enjoy and I hope you love my characters as much as I do!
~ Aja Cole
1
Neiko
I drag my suitcase over the threshold of my apartment and heave a tired sigh, wiping my forehead with my shirt sleeve.
Four flights of stairs and no elevator. Moving day was a bitch, but it’s better than being on the first floor and having bug issues. I’ve lived here for three years now, blissfully alone, and I love it.
But this is what happens when you go home and your mom re-packs your bag. I don’t know what else she put in here, but it’s way more than just my laundry.
I set it against the wall and head to my thermostat, turning the heat on. Usually, I’m all about saving energy, but I can’t be bothered to layer up in sweats and a hoodie right now.
I just want to sleep.
I’m still feeling the remnants of the flu, and I couldn’t sleep during any of the three-hour drive. I’ve missed my bed for two weeks, and I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.
After stripping and making myself at least brush my teeth and do a pared down version of my skincare, I make sure all the lights are off and my door’s locked.
I melt into my sheets and curl up with my body pillow, letting loose a soul deep sigh at the familiarity. My room back home is the guest room now, so it’s devoid of all of the comforts I have here.
It always amazes me at how much of a visitor I feel like in the home I grew up in. My dad said it’s intentional because there’s no way in hell that any of his kids are doing the stay at home thing.
Parents are stone-cold, I tell ya.
The minute my eyes start drifting closed and I feel like I’m floating in a warm cocoon of high thread count sheets and down feathers, it begins.
The group chat notifications that I forgot to mute.
Damn, damn, damn.
My phone is across the room on my desk, because I’ve been trying this semester to have a screen-free life when I’m ready to sleep. But the notifications keep going, and they won’t stop unless those bitches shut up, or I silence them.
Sometimes I hate my friends.
Huffing, I sling back my comforter and stomp to my desk, snatching up the phone.
I know exactly what the hussies are talking about, and I don’t even read through the messages before turning on my caps-lock and telling them exactly what I think about their midnight gushing sessions.
It doesn’t phase them at all. The girls just send gifs and jokes about me only being so pissy because I haven’t met the new guest teacher.
Bria: You don’t need sleep Neiko, you need to get your ass to class.
Neiko: I just got home asshats, I’ll be in class tomorrow. Stop exaggerating about this teacher and go the fuck to bed. 😡😡
Sammy: I know what bed I want to be in.
Leilani: I’ll meet you there, sis. If that man wanted me to join sister-wives, I’d say fuck yeah.
There’s no corralling them, and I swipe the notifications off and set the chat to mute, so I can finally get a good night’s rest. Tumbling back into my bed, I cozy up and wait for sleep to take me.
We all have very different tastes in men, and I’m fairly certain that there’s no way he can be as attractive as they’re making him seem.
I swear if this teacher isn’t a walking god, I’m getting rid of every single one of those talkative tramps.
I slide into a seat next to Sammy, taking in her colorful attire today. A bunch of us athletic training students pretty much live in school apparel. We get so much of it that it’s about half my wardrobe since I’m a senior now. Every year, we get a new heap of branded stuff, and we’ve affectionately deemed it Nike Christmas.
My chosen uniform today is blue and black Nike trainers, black leggings and a fitted blue running hoodie with our school logo on the breast.
Sammy, on the other hand, prefers a lot more flair.
Honestly, you’d think she was a fashion design major instead of training. Her polish is never chipped like mine, her hair is always sleek, and today’s dress has a colorful pattern of delightful geometric shapes on it.
She has on immaculate white converse today instead of her usual heels. Must have to go up the million stairs today and meet with her advisor. There’s only a handful of reasons she’d be caught dead in sneakers, and that’s one of them.
“I’d ask if you’re dressed like that for this teacher, but this is your every day.” I open my laptop, logging into the campus wifi after being away.
“You’re so skeptical; I can’t wait to see your jaw drop.” She taps her nails rhythmically on the desktop, brown eyes alight with amusement.
“Where is this lust-inducing Professor Saxton?” I roll my eyes, glancing at my watch. “He’s late.” This is one of our smaller classes, more about case studies and hands-on learning than a strict curriculum. There are only 12 of us, and we’re all seniors and juniors.
“You mean Professor Sexy?” Bria throws in her two scents, turning around in her seat and moving her lollipop to the side of her mouth. Some people have all the luck. Bria’s has a sweet tooth to rival an unchaperoned kid in a candy store as long as I’ve known her, but she never gets cavities. It’s astounding.
“I am not calling him that.”
“Yet.” The door opens, and she whirls around so fast that she almost falls out of her chair. All I see is a ball cap and a dark hoodie for now, then he turns around and lifts himself onto the desk, swiping his hat off and ruffling a hand through his hair. He has a short hinged brace on his knee.
He skips his gaze over the room like he’s making sure that everyone’s here, and when my eyes meet his thickly lashed blue ones, my thoughts stutter to a hard stop.
Damn.
I guess my friends weren’t exaggerating after all.
I barely know what we talked about this class, but I’ll be damned if I admit that to my friends.
“So, he’s grade A right?” Leilani gives a dreamy sigh, sitting on the edge of my table. Class is over, but it’s the last one of the day for most of us, so we’re just hanging out for a bit before the next class needs the room.
“Not grade A enough to blow up my phone for days.” I lie, zipping up my tote.
“I knew you needed your glasses for more than reading.” Sammy scoffs, and I shrug, pretending like I didn’t have visions of him trailing his fingers over my skin every time he picked up a marker. Or like I didn’t imagine that whenever I met his eyes during class, I saw the same fire that was in my thoughts.
“Mhm.” I grin, standing. Everyone’s starting to clear out, and I avoid looking at the front where I know Professor Sexy is talking to Kaden and Darius. I walk with the girls toward the back exit. “Alright, I still feel a little off so I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Okay, feel better Ko.” Bria
“Hey, Neiko? Can you stay back for a second?” Deep and confident, his voice stops me. I turn slowly, ignoring the low murmurs of my friends.
“Sure.” I force a cool tone, and make my way to the front of the room, watching him erase the board. He shed his sweatshirt, and the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifts and moves with his movements. A muscle bunch here, a tease of tanned lower back skin there. By the time he turns around, I think I’m in heat.
He leans against the desk, crossing impressive arms, and it’s a fight to drag my eyes to his face. God, his face is no better. Sharp bone structure, well-shaped lips and a dimple that’s visible even when he’s not smiling. Slight dark stubble on his face and eyes that look more aquamarine up close, and I’m hoping that this is a speedy meeting.
“So, as I understand it, you’ve been out with the flu since I’ve been here?” His voice practically washes over me, and I don’t understand it. It’s just a voice. It shouldn’t be so…sensual on its own.
“Yes, I just got back last night.” I clear my throat, trying to stare at the middle of his forehead, so it looks like I’m looking at him.
“Okay, so it’s been pretty relaxed here. You know I’m not a real professor, right? They’ve just been calling me that for shits and giggles.” His mouth kicks up and I stare against my will.
“Oh?” Distracted. Do better, Neiko.
“You’re not much of a hockey girl, are you?” His grin widens. Perfect teeth.
Wait, hockey?
“What about hockey?”
“I’m a hockey player. But your program director is a friend, and since I’m injured, I agreed to come in as a case and talk about my injury and everything that happened with that.”
This is news to me. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to the group chat, after all.
“That’s pretty cool. I’m more of a football and basketball type of girl.” I admit and look in his eyes this time.
It’s a mistake because now I don’t want to look away.
2
Tyler
I noticed her immediately.
Short, tousled hair with a little curl to it. Big brown eyes, plush lips and a smattering of subtle freckles on her light brown skin that I can see now that she’s close.
It’s not a massive class, so I noticed an extra person, but I also noticed her because the moment we locked eyes - I knew I wanted to feel her short strands slide through my fingers.
Neiko Brown.
A football and basketball girl, apparently.
I like that. It means she doesn’t know much about me, and I get to talk to her without any preconceptions.
I was going stir-crazy not being able to play or do anything strenuous with my knee, so when my buddy jokingly mentioned that he was trying to find things for his class to do because they’re so close to the end - I saw an opportunity to offer myself up for the cause.
And give me something to do before I started climbing the walls out of boredom.
It’s tough not being out on the ice with my team, especially so early in the season, but at least it happened now and not during the playoffs. That would’ve hurt even more.
A damn MCL tear. Not a complete tear, thankfully.
I came to talk to Robbie’s students and just see what they know and tell them my experience. I’ve let them work with me a bit on my physical therapy so they can see first hand the difference in mobility and strength.
It’s been a week and a half with the class, and I’ve got about that much more time left before I’m cleared to get back to at least working with the team. It’s been five weeks total since my injury. It’ll be a little bit of time before I’m able to go full throttle, but it could’ve been worse.
If this is what I get for these last few weeks though, then you won’t hear another complaint from me.
“Well, maybe you’ll be a little more of a hockey girl by the time I leave.”
She doesn’t respond at first, and I tilt my head curiously because she’s looking at me. I think.
“Neiko?” She blinks and shakes her head, looking chagrined.
“Sorry, you just, I’m sure people tell you all the time that you have captivating eyes.”
“Well, they’re behind a helmet most of the time.” I smile, and that’s when it dawns on me that she’s just as interested as I am.
Damn, this woman might be trouble.
“I wanted to give you the opportunity to work with me like your classmates did while you were out, if you’d be interested in that. It’s not a requirement if you’re too busy.”
Before I even finish the words, she’s nodding her head. “Yes.” She says. “I mean, no, I’m not too busy. Yes, I’d like to work with you deeper.” She shakes her head, flustered as I hold back a bark of laughter. “I meant, I’d like to delve deeper into you know, your recovery.”
My smile is full-blown now. “Understood.”
I can tell she’s embarrassed and she looks towards the door, meaning I can’t stare at her cupid’s bow anymore. “When do we start?”
“Let me check a few things, and I’ll let you know by tonight. Is email okay?”
Please say you prefer texting or the phone.
I don’t want to push any boundaries. Not without permission, that is.
“Just text me.” Her smile is shy, and I cheer inside my head. She pulls out her phone, and I relay my number, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. “I’m still a little tired, so I will see you soon?”
“Hopefully.” This time, I know my expression is a little less safe, but I watch her throat work on a swallow and have a feeling that maybe Miss Brown likes a little danger.
That’s good because I’m a man that’s all about the thrill. I chase it; I crave it, I search for it every time I step onto the rink and put my stick to the ice.
She backs away, turning to the door and I admire the way her leggings mold to her butt with each step. Enough bounce to let me know that she likes food and squats equally. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about the things I’d do to her, how soft her skin probably is, how she’ll shiver when I paint my hands over her body…
I’m still staring at the door after she’s gone, and I shake myself out of my stupor, running my hand over my face.
I take out my phone and shoot off a message to Robbie.
Tyler: Hypothetically, would it be against any rules to fraternize with one of your students?
Robbie: Oh fuck. Couldn’t keep it in your pants for a few weeks??
Tyler: I said hypothetically.
Robbie: Usually you ask after doing, not before.
Tyler: Could you kindly answer my question, please? Time’s ticking.
Robbie: Hypothetically, no. You’re just a guest. No real power or superiority over them.
Tyler: Fuck yeah. Thanks, bro.
Robbie: Don’t go fucking up any of my students in the head before they graduate. This is a good bunch.
Robbie: Who is it?
Robbie: Tyler
Robbie: Tyler!!
I slide my phone into my pocket, whistling and turning out the lights as I leave.
Recovery isn’t looking so bad after all.