Page 40 of Riptide

I even got the directions from Daphne, who, after rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of her head, confirmed that Foxx stays late every Monday to do student catch-ups. And, lucky for me, my twin sister is the best wingwoman in existence because she booked the last slot of the evening for me. He’s expecting her. He’s getting me. Is it ethical? No, but that’s not stopping me.

By the time I reach his office door, my pulse is surprisingly steady, my hands loose at my sides. I knock once before pushing it open, because I’m not here to be polite; I’m here to tell him the truth.

Foxx is behind his desk, broad shoulders filling out his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, veins subtly visible beneath tan skin. His dark hair is slightly tousled, just messy enough to make me wonder what it would look like if I ran my fingers through it, pulling, making him groan.

His glasses sit low on his nose, catching the dim office light as he flips through a thick textbook, completely unaware that he looks like every sinful thought I’ve ever had. I briefly wonder how often he uses them. He didn’t have them on our date, but I love how he looks in them.

His jaw is sharp, dusted with scruff, the kind that I know feels so good dragging over my skin, my thighs, my stomach, my fucking mouth.

For a second, I wonder if he’s pissed at Daphne too. How he feels about whatever fake scenario he’s conjured up in his head about us, and now he’s about to face her? But he doesn’t let anything past his gruff exterior. He doesn’t even look up. “Take a seat, Miss James.”

I step fully inside and close the door behind me. “She sends her apologies.”

His head snaps up so fast, I can’t help but grin widely and for extra measure throw him a wink. Andfuck…his reaction is everything I wanted. It stokes the already raging fire in my belly. His entire body goes tense. His thick fingers grip the pen in his hand. His jaw locks so tightly, I almost expect to hear it crack.

“Finn.” His voice is clipped, but there’s something searing just beneath it. “What are you doing here?”

I take my time walking forward, dropping into the chair across from him, stretching my arms over the back, casual as hell, despite the adrenaline rushing through me.

“Daphne booked the slot, since I’m not a student here,” I say, watching the way his eyebrows twitch. “Figured she wouldn’t mind if I took it.”

He exhales slowly, setting his pen down precisely. “This is inappropriate.”

I sigh. “Your favorite fucking word.”

He glares. “Because itis.You’re my student and—”

“I’m in anadultnight class at a community college, Foxx,” I cut in, leaning forward on my elbows. “And I’m not some undergrad looking for extra credit. I don’t need you to hold my hand through a fucking lecture—”

“Then what do you need?” he basically demands.

I smirk and lick my lips. Where do I start?

He leans back, putting space between us, and I fight the desire to scoff. Distance can’t help him, not when I’m sitting in front of the prey I want to devour. My pulse thunders in my ears at the thrill of chasing this stoic man who has it in his head that we’re bad for each other. That I’ve put him in a situation where he thinks he’s a cheater or that I lied to him, which is so incredibly wrong it pisses me off. And while I’m internally ranting, there was nothing wrong with the night we spent together, and there’snothing wrong with doing it again, which is exactly what I’m going to convince him of tonight.

I stand, slowly crossing the room until I’m at the edge of his desk.

His throat works around a hard swallow. His fingers clench together in front of him. So tense.

I drag my fingers across the smooth wood of his desk, letting them tap lightly, watching the way his dark-as-night eyes follow the movement. “You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, managing to keep my tone even, despite the mixture of irritation and lust simmering inside me.

“I haven’t—”

“Bullshit. Leaving me on read is avoiding me. I need to explain.”

His lips part, but I don’t give him a chance to lie again.

“Rosie isn’t mine. The baby you saw with me, she’s not mine.”

His eyebrows dip, gaze narrowing as he studies my face. “What?”

“You thought I had a family. Thought I was off-limits, because when you saw us in the coffee shop, you ran. Don’t act like that’s not what happened.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, his mouth forms a thin line, so I barrel on.

“She’s my niece,” I say, voice steady. “Daphne is my twin, not my girlfriend. I’m her temporary nanny and brother, not her baby daddy.”

Foxx doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe.

---