Page 19 of Whirlwind

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

“Finley—”

“I wanted it. I asked you for it. We’re two adults—”

“—who almost died. And you’re my student.”

“Youcare now?”

I swallow hard. “Like I said, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. It was wrong of me.”

Finley huffs and takes a step toward me. Our eyes lock, and I can see her still shivering, even more than she was before. I want to take her in my arms and keep her safe, warm. I want to comfort her and tell her that I’m lying. That I wanted her, that I still want her. I can’t, though. And I need to stop this before it goes any further.

“Are you saying you regret what happened?” she asks.

Her eyes bore into mine, her shoulders stiff and back straight. Finley is a woman who wants the truth—a truth I can’t give her—so I lie.

“Yes. I regret it.”

Her eyes turn glassy, and her chin quivers. My chest aches, and my hands itch to pull her into a hug and take my words back, but this is how things need to be between us. I have to push her away. She’s still my student until she graduates, and we have the chase starting tomorrow with my team.

And if I’m being honest with myself, even though it kills me, a little part of medoesregret it. Not her, never her, but she is my student. I’m her superior. She was also under duress. I should’ve stopped myself from acting on my feelings for her, even though they’re mutual.

Finley takes a step back and pushes down her tears. “Right. Well, I guess we should go find my car,Professor West. We’re losing light.”

Chapter eight

Finley

I feel as ifI got hit by a tornado. Oh wait, Ididget hit by a tornado. It’s kind of exciting now that the fear has passed. Not many people live to tell that tale, but I haven’t allowed the fact that I survived something that huge to really settle in. Not with a certain professor on my mind.

I take a large gulp of my second cup of coffee in my travel mug while I wait on the curb of my apartment for said professor to pick me up. Since my car is, in fact, totaled—along with my beautiful camera—I had to accept the ride to Oklahoma that Ryker offered me last night before we parted. There were no cars left to rent on such short notice, but it wouldn’t have made sense for me to waste the money on one, anyway.

I take another large drink of coffee and stare up at the sky. It’s only five-thirty in the morning, and the sun hasn’t risen yet, leaving the sky dark to match my mood. I grumble to myself.

I want to be more excited about this chase—it’s what I’ve been waiting for since not only the first time I saw Ryker and the Tempest Trackers online when I was a teen but also since he told our class that he’d be picking one person for this special chase and the chance to get on the scientific paper. But instead, I feel more trepidation than excitement.

My professor and I had sex—incredible, exhilarating, dirty sex—after we almost died. I squeeze my thighs together, the phantom feeling of his release between my legs making me squirm. Thankfully, I’m on birth control, and before Rykerdrove away last night, I told him as much, letting him know there was no need to worry about pregnancy. Or an STD, for that matter, since I was tested at my last physical and haven’t slept with anyone else in over a year.

He’d looked back at me wide-eyed, lips parted to say something, but I’d slammed his truck door and run to my apartment before I could hear if he had a response. It was juvenile, but I was tired, sore, uncomfortable, and pissed.

I understand that we crossed a line together, but it was a dick move to pull a complete one-eighty and say he regretted it, especially when we’ve spent the last year flirting and crossing lines with said flirting. I was lying to myself thinking that what we’d been doing was innocent and didn’t mean anything. Students and professors do not spend hours together outside of the classroom, even if we were doing so under the guise of studying data during office hours.

I sigh to myself and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Younger me would’ve left last night with my heart in pieces. But even though I’m hurt and the whole situation has made me cranky, I’m going to do my best to try to not let it ruin my weekend.

This is my career. My life. IfProfessor Westregrets our time together, then so be it. But I’m not going to make him regret picking me for this chase. Because although Ryker has been an inspiration and a mentor, I’m doing this chase for me. Even after one of the very things I love almost killed me yesterday, I still want this. Going on this chase and being part of the research paper only benefits me in the long run.

I’m going to reinstate my promise to Jake and be careful—er, more careful. Professor West can fuck off.

Speak of the devil. Ryker’s red truck rounds the corner, and I suck in a deep breath.

“You can do this, Finley,” I mutter under my breath. “You can do this.”

The purr of the truck’s engine cuts off in front of me, and I straighten my shoulders while I wait for Ryker to step down from the vehicle. When he rounds the truck and stands in front of me, all of my previous gusto exits my body. He looks how he always looks: rugged, sexy, and swoonworthy.

He’s replaced the red ball cap he lost yesterday with a new black one. It’s backward again, and he’s got on a black T-shirt with the graphic of a tornado and TT for Tempest Trackers on the front. His jaw is still scruffy, but it looks as though he’s trimmed the hair, which only outlines the angles of his masculine jaw more. It doesn’t help that the shallow scratches on his skin from our close call add to the worn and weathered look that makes him so attractive.

“Good morning.” He tips his chin.

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