Page 33 of Riptide

His eyes lock on mine, swirling heat and fire, and his mouth curves into a disbelieving grin.

He shouldn’t be here. Hecan’tbe here. He said he wasn’t a student.

Finn drags a hand through his hair, eyes still locked on mine. “This calculus?”

My throat goes dry. I bend down to pick up the marker, buying myself a second to breathe, to think. When I straighten, I meet his gaze and try for something resembling authority. “Yes,” I say. “Take a seat.”

Finn’s eyes glitter with something far too dangerous. Then he steps farther into the room, each stride more confident than the last. As he passes me, I catch the faintest hint of that same ocean-salt scent I remember from our night together, and I’m completely thrown by how it makes my body come to life. Not now, not now.

Dropping into the front row, he slouches back in the chair and stretches his legs out in front of him like he owns the place. The backpack falls to the floor with a soft thud. And the entire time, his gaze doesn’t leave mine.

Focus. Numbers. Focus.

I clear my throat and turn back to the whiteboard. I can get through this; I fucking have to. “Tonight, we’ll be reviewing partial fractions and advanced integration techniques,” I say, forcing my voice into something steady. I write the first equation, but my mind is stuck on the weight of his attention on my back.

The class moves on in fits and starts. I go through the motions: breaking down equations, answering questions, setting problems for them to solve on their own. But my mind keeps tripping over the presence of the man sitting in the front row, twirling a pen between his fingers. Blue eyes that pin me with a I’ve-made-you-come twinkle are unmistakable.

He said he wasn’t a student and lied about it. Fuck, what if he lied about other things too? Then the realization that he has a picture of my dick sitting on his phone strikes me like a hot poker, and I want to scream. I need this class to be over, now.

I scan the room, avoiding him, praying my voice stays steady. “Any questions before we wrap up?”

I should just dismiss them, end the class, walk out before he gets the chance to sink his teeth into me again. Why did I just ask a question? And because the universe likes to punish me, Finn’s hand goes up. Of course it does. I really can’t do this with him. Exhaling through my nose, bracing myself for whatever bullshit he’s about to pull, I nod. “Yes?”

He leans back in his chair, all easy confidence, like he hasn’t been waiting for this all night. Like he doesn’t already know exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Yeah, so…” His voice is smooth, casual, but I feel the weight of it before he even finishes. “What happens when two variables keep pulling toward each other, even when they’re not supposed to?”

My pulse jumps. I lock my jaw and keep my expression blank, but it doesn’t matter. I know what he’s doing.Heknows what he’s doing.

I swallow hard as I look away. “Sometimes,” I say finally, voice stiff, “they cancel each other out.”

Finn grins, pleased. He already knows I’ve given him an opening.

“And the other times?”

My eyes snap to his, andfuck. I see it, the way his pupils dilate, the way his chest rises and falls, and I wonder if he’s waiting for me to slip.

And I realize, in that exact moment, that this isn’t about math. That it never was.

I inhale slowly. Because if I don’t, Iwillslip.

“Sometimes,” I say, barely above a breath, “they don’t.” I tear my gaze away and set the marker on the ledge with more force than necessary. “That’s it for tonight. Homework is due next class. If you need help, my office hours are listed in the syllabus, as is my email.”

Chairs scrape. Students gather their things and file out but, of course, Finn stays put. I busy myself with the markers, stacking them neatly. Heart beating too fast, too loud. When the last student leaves, the door clicks shut, and we’re alone.

“You can’t be here,” I say, rougher than I mean to, but I’m trying to hold it together.

“Sure I can.” His chair squeaks as he leans back, stretching out those long legs. “It’s a community college. Open enrollment. And I needed a math credit.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I grip the edge of the desk. “You didn’t know I taught here, did you?” I ask, a little breathless.

“I didn’t.” His lips twitch. “Best surprise I’ve had in a while, though.”

I force my teeth together to keep the thin grip I have on my restraint. “Finn, when did you enroll here?”

“Few days ago. I wanted to do something productive with my spare time, because all I’ve been doing is wondering when the fuck I should ask you to hook up again.”

It’s like my whole body can’t decide if it wants to flinch or lean in. I’ve been split down the middle, unable to comprehend the thoughts fraying at the edges, and he’s now in my space like temptation incarnate, saying things he shouldn’t in a voice I want to follow into every bad decision I’ve ever tried to avoid. I’m supposed to be the adult in the room. But right now, I’m not sure I even remember how.

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