Chapter 19
GRADY
I t was the hottest single kiss of my life and I had to end it. The second my brain cleared from the fog, reality crashed down like a cold wave. What the hell had I just done? I’d gone down on my student in a university locker room. My teaching assistant. On campus property.
I stepped back, running a hand through my damp hair, trying to process the magnitude of my stupidity. “Fuck. Cece, we can’t—this was?—”
“A mistake,” she finished quietly, reaching for a towel to clean her hands. Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor underneath. “I know. We both got carried away.”
“We crossed a line that we can’t uncross.” I pulled my swim trunks back up, my hands shaking slightly. “This could destroy both our careers.”
She nodded, pulling her bikini bottoms back into place. “You’re right. We just needed to get that tension out of our systems, right? Clear the air? We didn’t technically have sex.”
The clinical way she said it stung more than it should have.
Like what we’d just shared was nothing more than a biological function that needed addressing.
But maybe that was exactly what it was. Maybe that was all it could be.
We both got off. It wasn’t exactly the way I had imagined, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Right,” I agreed, though the word tasted bitter. “Just releasing tension.”
She stood, wrapping a towel around her waist. “It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t happen again,” I corrected, hating how formal I sounded. How distant.
“No,” she said, meeting my eyes briefly before looking away. “It can’t.”
We stood there for a moment in awkward silence, the weight of what we’d done hanging between us like a wall neither of us could tear down. I didn’t know if I should apologize. Was that a dick thing to do? I had never felt the need to apologize before.
“I should go,” she said finally.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“See you in class, Professor.”
The formality in her voice was like a knife to the chest. “See you in class, Ms. Monroe.”
I drove straight to the beach after leaving campus, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles went white. The taste of her was still on my lips, the memory of her soft moans echoing in my head like a song I couldn’t turn off. What the hell was wrong with me?
I parked at the public access and kicked off my shoes, not bothering to change into proper running gear.
The sand was still warm from the afternoon sun.
I took off at a punishing pace, trying to outrun the images burned into my brain.
The way she looked at me when I was on my knees in front of her.
The way she’d whispered my name. The way her hands had felt wrapped around my cock.
Dining on her was not enough. It was a tease. A promise of what would be a mind-blowing experience. Sex with Cece would forever change me. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I felt it in my bones.
My feet pounded against the packed sand near the water’s edge, each step harder than the last. A couple of early evening joggers passed me going the other direction, probably wondering why some maniac was sprinting down the beach and growling.
I’d been teaching there for four years. Four years of maintaining professional boundaries, of keeping appropriate distance from students, of never even being tempted to cross that line. And then she walked into my life and my carefully constructed world was blown to pieces.
Why her? Of all the women I could be attracted to, why did it have to be one who was completely off-limits? The one person who could cost me everything I’d worked for?
I slowed to a walk, my lungs burning, sweat dripping down my face.
The logical part of my brain kept trying to minimize what had happened.
We hadn’t had sex. Technically, we just had separate orgasms. But even as I tried to convince myself it wasn’t that serious, I knew I was lying.
The way I’d felt with my mouth on her, the way she’d responded to my touch—that wasn’t just physical release.
That was something deeper, something dangerous.
It wasn’t just the sex—it was everything. The way she looked in the water, graceful and confident, like it was where she belonged. The way she’d made me laugh with that pirate name nonsense.
She was dangerous. Not just because she was my TA, though yeah, that was bad enough. No, the real problem was that it felt like more . It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to have.
The dean’s voice rang in my head like an alarm bell. If Lina found out about what happened, I had no doubt in my mind she would twist things. The thing with Cece would be turned into something ugly.
I flopped down in the sand, sweat-soaked and raw. The tide was out and the sun was starting to go down. Everything was all yellow and gold and it should have been relaxing but I couldn’t shake off the dread.
What the hell was I doing?
I wasn’t built for relationships. Not the kind that required dinner plans and remembering anniversaries. I traveled too much. I taught too much. I wanted to do too much.
And I sure as hell wasn’t father material. That’s what really scared me. I had a passport full of stamps. I didn’t even own a damn plant. I killed a succulent once. I wasn’t the kind of guy that nurtured anything.
Any woman with a regular life, a nine-to-five job, wouldn’t fit with my lifestyle.
She’d want stability, predictability, someone who came home for dinner every night at six.
Someone who didn’t disappear for months at a time to dig around in the dirt on some remote island with no cell service.
I wouldn’t be able to check in and my limited experience with relationships told me women really liked texts in the morning and at night.
Maybe someone like Cece would be perfect for me.
She understood the pull of discovery, the thrill of uncovering something that had been hidden for centuries.
We could travel together, see the world, and make amazing discoveries as a team.
I wouldn’t have to leave her behind at home while I went on adventures, wondering if she’d still be there when I got back.
She could be right there beside me, diving into wrecks in the Mediterranean, excavating ruins in South America, exploring caves in Southeast Asia.
We could sleep in a hut together. And fuck like rabbits.
The thought hit me like a rogue wave. I could picture it so clearly it physically hurt.
Cece in khaki shorts and a tank top, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail as she carefully brushed dirt away from a pottery shard.
Cece beside me in crystal-clear water, her eyes bright with excitement as we discovered something no one had seen for hundreds of years.
Cece in my tent, in my bed, in my life in every way that mattered.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to shake the fantasy loose. It was dangerous thinking. The kind of thinking that led to stupid decisions and ruined careers. She was my student, my TA, and I was her professor. End of story.
But the images wouldn’t leave me alone. They played on repeat as I finally dragged myself off the beach and back to my car.
By the time I got home, I was wound tighter than a spring.
I needed a drink. Hell, I needed several drinks.
But first, I needed a shower. A long, cold one that might finally wash away the taste of her skin and the memory of how perfectly she’d fit against me.
And despite Dean Carver’s bullshit insinuation about rules that didn’t exist, there actually was no rule against fraternizing with grad students.
Cece wasn’t some wide-eyed freshman with daddy issues looking to bang an older man.
Yes, she was my TA, but if it could be something serious, more than just a fling, surely no one would object.
I was probably getting ahead of myself. Cece was young. There was nothing to say she wanted anything more than a quickie. Hell, now that I had gotten her off, she might be done with me. It was crazy to think about something serious and long term with her after one lapse in the locker room.
I smiled and shook my head. She wasn’t done. That woman wanted me. She wanted my dick. The flirting had been heating up for weeks. What happened in the locker room today was more like a volcano finally blowing. The real fire was still blazing just below the surface, building back up again.
I needed to get out of my head, so I drove to The Library.
The bar was busier than usual for a weeknight, probably because classes had officially started and the students were already looking for ways to relax.
I found Felix behind the bar, mixing drinks with the efficiency of someone who’d been doing it for years.
“Look what the tide washed in,” he said, not looking up from the martini he was shaking.
“Screw you, I showered,” I said with a grin, then slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the crowd who were already getting loud.
Felix set the martini in front of a woman in a business suit, then walked over to me. “Whiskey?”
“Make it a double.”
He nodded and poured without comment.
“Much obliged.” The amber liquid burned going down, which was exactly what I needed. Something to focus on other than the chaos in my head.
“So what’s eating you?” Felix asked, leaning against the bar. “You’ve got that look you get when you’re trying to solve the world’s problems.”
“Just work stuff.” I took another sip, savoring the taste. “You know how it is at the beginning of the semester. New students, new headaches.”
“Ah yes, the annual parade of bright-eyed freshmen who think archeology is all about treasure hunting.” Felix grabbed a towel and started wiping down glasses. “Any particularly challenging ones this year?”
I thought about Lina and her constant attempts at seduction, about Dean Carver’s weird obsession with my behavior with the students, about the way my hands had shaken after what happened in the locker room. “A few. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“How’s the dive-trip planning coming along? Still taking students out to that wreck?”
“Yeah, next weekend if the weather holds.” I finished my whiskey and gestured for another. “Should be interesting. We’ve got an untouched site, just waiting for us to explore.”
Felix poured, studying my face. “You sure you’re okay? You seem more wound up than usual. You’re usually pretty chill.”
“I’m fine.” The lie came easier than it should have. “Just need to unwind.”
“Well, you came to the right place. We’ve got a decent crowd tonight, including some very attractive women who aren’t students.” He nodded toward a group of women in their thirties sitting at a high-top table. “That brunette’s been checking you out since you walked in.”
I glanced over. She was pretty, probably a local professional, exactly the kind of woman I should be interested in. Safe. Appropriate. Available. But when I looked at her, I felt nothing. No spark, no interest, no desire to walk over and strike up a conversation.
“Not tonight,” I said.
“When’s the last time you had a date that didn’t involve discussing carbon dating techniques?”
“I go on plenty of regular dates. Just not recently.”
He nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s like something has changed.”
I knew exactly who was responsible for the change in my dating patterns but I wasn’t about to tell Felix the truth.