Whirlwind

27. Finley

Chapter twenty-seven

Finley

Ryker’s eyes meet mine, relief that tugs at my heart and makes me want to reach out to him before he even has time to say hello visible in their depths.

“You’re home.” He exhales, his resonant voice burrowing deep into my chest.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I am.”

His lips turn up to match mine. “Can we talk?”

I nod, standing to the side so he can come in. My doorway area isn’t that large, so when he steps through, his chest brushes against mine, reminding me of our bodies sandwiched together in that picture.

“Sorry,” he breathes as we shift around so I can close the door.

“It’s okay. Let’s go into the living area.”

He agrees, his burning gaze on my body as we move further inside. Embarrassment colors my cheeks when I realize my place is a mess. Since I’ve been sulking, it’s not like I’ve kept up cleaning. Thankfully, I threw away the ice cream pints and washed the dishes earlier, so at least there’s that.

I turn to face him. “Sorry about the mess.” But Ryker isn’t listening to me, nor is he looking at the mess. He’s now standing in front of one of my photographs from a storm a few years back, part of a statewide tornado outbreak. I’d snapped a picture of a huge rotating wall cloud over a cornfield that looked as if it was AI generated. It’s the photo I’m most proud of, one I never put up for sale in my shop. I don’t know why, but I felt like I wanted it for my eyes only. But the way Ryker is looking at it makes me wonder if I should rethink that.

“You like it?” I ask.

Ryker continues to study it, his fingers tracing the flanking line without touching the photo. “It’s incredible.”

“Thank you.”

At my quiet response, Ryker turns to face me. Our eyes meet briefly before he lowers his gaze, taking me in with a slow, appreciative scan. He shifts on his feet, licking his lips in a way that’s surprisingly uncharacteristic. He’s nervous—and, honestly, I’m glad he is because I’m nervous, too.

I cross my arms over my chest to cover my boobs. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.”

He clears his throat, eyes reconnecting with mine. “It’s okay. I should’ve called.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

My chest aches, and I take a tentative step toward him, still keeping a short distance between us. “I would’ve.”

Surprise lights his features. “Really?” There’s so much hope in his voice that I almost say screw talking and launch myself in his arms. But if Ryker touches me now, I know there won’t be much talking happening between us.

“Yeah, I would’ve.”

His smile widens, and I motion for us to sit on my couch. Once we’re settled, I can’t help but stare. It feels weird to have him here, in my space. Even in all my wildest dreams, I never pictured him in my apartment. We were always in his office or a classroom or out on a chase. Never here.

It’s funny—I thought he’d look out of place or it would be weird. But dressed down in jeans and a black T-shirt, his ball cap missing and hair tousled as if he’s been running his hands through it, he somehow fits. Sitting on my couch, against the backdrop of my white walls and storm photos, he looks good—almost right at home.

I clear my throat to stop my thoughts. I need to keep a clear head so we can talk, not think about him as a permanent fixture in my space before we even say a word.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask.

Ryker swallows, the muscles of his throat tightening. His eyes are full of determination as he looks at me. It’s the look he gets when he’s chasing a storm.

“I quit my teaching job.”

My mouth parts as my eyes shoot wide. “You what?”

Since my couch isn’t that large, Ryker takes my hands in his. I don’t pull back; instead, I let him hold them.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” he murmurs.

I look down at our hands and study them. I don’t have small hands, but his rough ones dwarf mine, and he’s holding them with such gentle care that emotion starts to thicken in my throat.

“I—” I manage to say. “I told you I didn’t want that.”

He tilts my chin up so he can look me in the eye, his gaze soft yet intense. “I know, but I wanted to, Finley. For me.”

My brow knits to match my frown. “But you love teaching.”

“Yes, I do. But there are other things I love more.” He squeezes my hand, and his confession sends shockwaves through my body.

“Ryker—you can’t, we haven’t—”

He cups my cheek, his other hand still holding mine on my lap. “I can, and I do. Maybe it sounds crazy, and you don’t have to say it back, but I do love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment you walked into my classroom, hair a mess and too many books in your backpack.”

My eyes turn watery, and he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You weren’t supposed to quit. The school—”

“Fuck the school.”

“But the paper, your work—” I counter.

He smiles. “I’ve spoken to HR. I thought I wouldn’t hear back so quickly, but someone called me as soon as I emailed them with my resignation yesterday. You don’t have to worry about the paper; it’s going to be published, and everything will be sorted. Hawk’s already reached out to other organizations and private entities for investing, and I told Joey to put those damn T-shirts up online—he said he’s already got over one thousand orders.”

“You’re serious?” I laugh.

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” he grumbles, though the grumble is more playful than annoyed. He drops his hand from my cheek to my lap.

“Wait!” Worry fills my stomach. “You told the school about us?”

“No, but not because I didn’t want to—because I knew you wouldn’t want me to.” He grips my hand. “But don’t get me wrong. I don’t plan on hiding you away. I won’t do it. I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”

My lip threatens to twitch from his caveman statement, but heat fills my chest. “I appreciate that, Ryker. But is that why you were able to keep everything in order for the paper, because you didn’t tell them?”

“I told you, my only motive for not telling the school about us was for you. I won’t lie and say it won’t make it easier for the paper to be completed, but I told you, there will be more. I’ll go back and tell them about us right now to prove that to you, but please know that I want you. Everything else comes after.”

My sinuses sting, and my chest constricts. He’s saying everything I want him to say. I feel as if I’m in some kind of weird dream. “And do I get a choice in this?”

He grips my hand tighter. “Of course you do. If you tell me to fuck off, I will. But I need you to know I made this choice because I wanted to, and I’m happy with it no matter what you choose.”

I observe his features for any lie, but I can’t find any. Ryker is a man of his word, and I know if I told him to leave, he would. Even after blowing up his life for me .

“I was going to delay getting my degree for at least a semester, if not more,” I confess.

Ryker’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I was about to email the registrar’s office when you knocked, then I was going to call you to talk.”

He gets closer to me on the couch, his body so near his heat warms me. It makes me want to lean in closer and have him hold me.

“Saved by the knock,” he says quietly.

I blink up at him. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want you to have to quit.”

“I know, baby. But if you deferred, we’d be right back here again in the future, trying to figure out what to do.”

“And you’re so sure that we’re going to work?”

Some men would be upset that I implied our relationship could fail after a few months, but not Ryker. His gaze is still soft as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I may fuck up sometimes, and you’ll get angry with me, but I’ll always be the best man I can be for you. I plan on being with you for a lot longer than a semester, after all.”

A single tear tracks down my cheek at his words, and he brushes it away. I stare into his eyes, having an out-of-body experience. My professor is sitting on my couch. He quit his job for me. He loves me. And if I’m being truthful, I love him, too, even if I can’t say it out loud yet. Not until our relationship feels truly real.

Ryker runs his thumb over my bottom lip. Our bodies have somehow gravitated even closer. All he has to do is lean down a breath to kiss me.

“You were going to defer your schooling for me?” he asks.

“I was.”

“And you were going to call me?”

I nod. “I realized I do want to be with you. I was willing to chase you if I had to.”

He cups my cheek and smiles. “You’ve already caught me. ”

Laughter slips through my lips, and I shake my head in his hand. “So cheesy.”

“I’m the Twister Tamer, Ms. Buckley. Cheese is part of my personality.”

“Oh my god,” I groan. “It is not. Dramatic? Yes. Cheese? No.”

“I really can be cheesy,” he insists. “And we can talk about that dramatic comment later, but please know I plan to teach you everything about me, Finley. Every single thing.”

My laughter fades as I place my hand over the one he has resting on my cheek. My lips part to tell him he doesn’t need to teach me anything—I already know him. But I hold back.

There will be time to tell him I know his favorite color is blue, that he rubs his jaw when he’s nervous, that he picks tomatoes off everything he eats. Time to tell him I love his overwhelming passion for storms, that he’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. Even that I think he needs readers because he squints when he reads documents and textbooks. But right now, I want to show him something else.

“Kiss me, Professor.” Ex-professor?

As if he senses my silly thoughts, a lopsided grin appears on his lips. But before I can smile back, his mouth captures mine. I drop my hand to the base of his neck as his fingers tangle in my hair. We moan into each other’s mouths, and I open for him, our tongues meeting in a slow slide. He tastes of mint, and all I want is more. To drown in him after going two weeks without.

“Ryker.” I tug his lower lip between my teeth. “I need you.”

“Fuck, baby. I need you, too.” He groans, pushing me back on my couch so he’s fully on top of me, the heavy weight of him settling me for the first time since we parted. His lips find mine again at the same time I grab the hem of his T-shirt, yanking it up.

Ryker’s mouth leaves mine so I can pull his shirt off and drop it to the floor, then he’s sucking my tongue as I thrust my hips up into his, rubbing myself on his growing erection. He curses against my lips, and I do it again, anxious to feel him inside me.

Over the next few minutes, I get lost in the sensation of his lips, teeth, tongue, and hands peeling off my clothes and worshipping every inch of skin they can. When we’re both finally naked, he tugs me to my bed, laying me out on the cream comforter. He continues to worship me, leaving bites on my neck before licking over my collarbone and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I arch up, pressing him into my breast and writhing beneath him.

This goes on for a time before I can’t take it any longer. I need to feel fully connected with him again, need to feel his love for me through his body and not just his words. I want to know what it’s like to be fully loved by Ryker West when he’s not holding back. When we’re no longer under the constraints of our forbidden relationship.

“Fuck me, please. I can’t wait anymore.”

He releases my nipple from his mouth with a wet popping noise, kissing back up my chest and neck. His long, heavy cock drags against my heated skin until he’s settled between the cradle of my thighs.

“You want my dick, Ms. Buckley?” He runs his nose along the shell of my ear.

I slide my wet pussy over his length. “What do you think, Professor West?”

His dilated eyes connect with mine, and then he’s smirking. We probably shouldn’t like using those titles in the way we do, but damn me to hell if I don’t admit it’s hot. Especially now that we can use them and not be worried about the consequences.

“I think you’re a naughty girl who needs to be fucked so well”—he nips at my lips—“that she remembers how to be good.”

I arch into his touch and groan. “Do it.”

He hums deviously before he kisses me once, then again. “Beg me for it.”

My nails claw into his back, and I bring my lips to his ear so he hears me loud and clear. “Please fuck me, Professor West. Teach me how to be good.”

A feral growl rumbles from his throat, and I gasp as Ryker dips his hand between us, fingers brushing over my clit before he takes his cock and sheathes himself all the way inside me.

We both make unintelligible noises at our bodies joining, and my eyes water from the sensation of him raw and bare. It’s like coming home.

“So fucking good,” he mutters against my neck.

I wrap my legs around him like I did in the motel room, pulling him closer so there’s nearly no space between us. Ryker moves his hips, thrusting inside me in slow, deep thrusts over and over again. I cling to him, and he croons words of praise into my ear as I slowly fall apart in his hands.

“Come, Finley. I can feel you’re almost there.”

I slide a hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He devours me as he continues to thrust, circling his finger over my clit and giving me no choice but to shatter and release.

I cry into his mouth, my sounds swallowed by him as he grunts out his own pleasure. His cum spills inside me, filling me up and sending sparks down my spine.

When he can’t hold himself up any longer, he rolls us to our side so we can see each other, our breaths choppy and sweat clinging to our skin. He tucks strands of hair behind my ear as he likes to do, smiling softly. I know there are a million things we could say right now, and we still have important conversations to get to, but there’s only one thing that could make tonight more perfect.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I can’t help the smile that teases my lips.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I bring a hand up to his beard—it’s grown longer than usual—and give it a gentle tug. “What would you say to a storm chase? ”

His eyes light up, and he radiates a happiness that thunders through my entire being. “You have your eyes on a cell?”

“A squall line an hour from here.”

“Then I’d say…” He sits up, extending his hand toward me. “What are we waiting for, Ms. Buckley?”

My heart skips a beat, and I slide my hand into his, knowing this is the first of many storms we’ll face together.