Whirlwind

3. Ryker

Chapter three

Ryker

We’ve got a twister to tame —who the fuck even says that out loud? Me, apparently. I’m that asshole.

I don’t take my words back, though, because my internet-famous saying makes Finley chuckle, the sound soft and lyrical. I relish in it, in the musicality and femininity of it. Especially when I spend most of my time around men who are the complete opposite of her. Men that laugh with their guts or hardly at all.

“Do you want to take my car or yours?”

Her question shakes me out of my thoughts—thoughts I shouldn’t be having about my student—as we walk quickly beside each other toward campus parking.

“What kind of car do you have?” I ask.

“A compact SUV.”

“Do you have full coverage?”

“Duh.” She scoffs, the cute grin on her face reminding me of her youth. Which then reminds me I shouldn’t have asked to chase with her alone, not after our near-kiss a moment ago. We have this weekend, and we’ll be around other people on those chases. That’s a safer bet.

But I can’t go back on my request now, especially when she looks so excited, her body nearly vibrating with it. I would also be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t excited about it, too. I want to go with her, even if I know I shouldn’t go with her .

Romantic, sexual, or other intimate relationships between faculty and students are prohibited…

I clear my throat. “Where are you parked?”

“Right there.” She points to her car, not far from us.

“Let’s do yours, then; mine is on the other side of the lot.” I look down at my radar then back at her. “We don’t want to miss any action.”

A look of surprise colors her features, and I lift a brow at her.

“Is that not okay with you?”

She shakes her head. “You’re really fine with me driving?”

I chuckle. “My ego is not that fragile—most of the time.”

She grins and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, then, I’ll drive.”

“Great.” I shift the strap of her ridiculously heavy backpack on my shoulder. She tries to take it again, but I shake my head. Finley nods toward the car as a rosy flush colors her cheeks. It has me wondering what caused the blush, if it’s her response to me carrying her bag or simply me. Regardless, like earlier in my classroom, the flush of her skin affects me in inappropriate ways. My skin is tight and hot as I imagine other ways in which I could make her skin pink up like that.

“You can put my backpack here,” she says as we approach her car, opening the back to the cargo area. As the hatch lifts, I admire the neatly organized space. There’s an emergency pack, what looks like a hard camera case—at least I’m guessing that’s what it is since I know Finley is a photographer—and a rolled-up sleeping bag along with a few pillows tucked neatly inside.

“Did you go camping?”

She shakes her head, turning her chin down sheepishly. “Sometimes if I finish chasing late or I’m driving to Texas to see my cousin, I sleep in the back instead of getting a motel room.”

I put her backpack down and step away so she can close the trunk. When it’s secured, I turn toward her. She makes a move to the driver’s side, but I gently take hold of her wrist .

“Alone?” My voice is commanding and gruff. I sound like a caveman, but I can’t help it. She shouldn’t be sleeping alone in her car between chases—or any other time, for that matter. It’s not safe, especially with how many idiots are out on the road these days.

Chasing solo leads to desolate areas that even me and the guys don’t feel comfortable sleeping in.

Finley stares at my hand wrapped around her wrist then flicks her eyes back to mine with a curiosity that makes my stomach flip. “Yes, alone. Why?” she asks.

Tension hangs tight in the air between us, and it takes me a second to realize that my question could have been perceived as a way to figure out if she’s single. No matter the meaning, I’m not acting very professor-like right now. I pull my hand away and drop it at my side. “Just be careful,” I say swiftly. “I don’t want you to get hurt when you’re out alone.”

Her eyes narrow. “What is it with men telling me to be careful today? I’m being careful.”

My mouth opens to speak, but I don’t know what to say because I obviously pushed a button. Before I can ask her about her comment, she walks away and gets into her car.

I remove my cap and thread my fingers through my damp hair. It’s a muggy day, and being around Finley doesn’t exactly keep me cool. With a sigh, I place my hat on my head in its backward position, bracing myself for being in a car with her for one more day than I had planned. Hawk is going to have a fucking field day when he finds out she chased with me alone. But even considering the thoughts in my head—which are probably a fireable offense all on their own—we have not crossed any lines.

You almost kissed her .

My shoulders stiffen, but I still refuse to believe I did. I ran into her, I was only making sure she was okay, I wasn’t about to cup her jaw —

You looked at her boobs, the inner voice nags, and imagined it was your hand touching her ass instead of her own.

I rub my face and do my best to clear those notions from my mind. Even if I did almost kiss her and do all those other things, it doesn’t matter now. I’ll just keep reminding myself that I’m her professor and she’s my student. I’m going to be her team leader this weekend, and we’re going to keep it professional. I’m going to be the Ryker that I always am during chases: confident, cool, casual. It’s going to be fine.

“Are you going to tame the storm by staring at it, Professor West?”

Fuck. Professor West . The formal title from her lips sounds good.

Too good.

Goddammit, I definitely should not like it when she calls me that—most of my students call me that, if not all of them. I attempt a calming inhale and look into Finley’s eyes. She has her window down and her arm resting on the door as she looks back at me, upper lip twitching in amusement.

I shoot her a lopsided grin, one a professor, aka me, should once again not be giving his student.

“I’m coming.”