Page 9 of In Deep

I nod my agreement. “But the library. Not my room.”

“You’re the tutor.”

“I’m very strict,” I tell him.

“I hope so. Can I have your number then?” He grins like he just won a point in a game and I roll my eyes. I reel it off and tell him to message me a sample test paper.

“See you tomorrow, Rosie,” he says with a wink and I try to ignore the way my stomach swoops again.

* * *

To my surprise, he’s already there in the library when I arrive on Tuesday evening. It’s pretty empty. Tuesday night is half price at the nightclub in town and most college students will be heading there tonight.

It’s eerily quiet and his scent particularly potent. I approach the desk cautiously. He looks up and smiles, his eyes darting with what looks like appreciation, down my form.

I shiver. I can’t deny the effect he’s having on me. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come here. But now I’m here, I don’t want to go.

I pull out the chair beside him, scooting it back so there’s no chance of us touching.

“Hi, sugar,” he says.

“You call all your tutors sugar?”

“No comment,” he laughs and I wonder how many tutors have succumbed to the charm of an alpha like Zane.

I wonder if I will be the next.

I wonder if that would really be such a bad thing.

It is. It won’t work out between us. I’m a broken omega. In the end, he’ll reject me.

I pull out the questions I’ve prepared from my bag and spread them on the desk. “I thought we’d start with these.”

He drags his chair closer, the legs scraping against the floor.

“This one?” he asks, peering over my shoulder, his warm breath brushing against my cheek, leaving me to imagine how warm his lips would feel.

I daren’t move. I don’t want to pull away from him, but the temptation to lean towards him is tantalising.

He reaches around me and takes a hold of the paper, positioning it in front of him. His eyes dart across the rows of equations and I take the opportunity to study his face. He has a fine line of stubble across his chin today and I have an urge to brush my fingers across it.

“Hmmm,” he says and I jolt. He doesn’t meet my eye, but a smile flickers across his face as he picks up a pen and twists it around in his fingers.

“Do you need me to talk you through it?” I ask, my voice a little shaky.

He shakes his head, then begins to scribble on the page. I follow his answer.

“That’s right,” I say. “Do you–”

“Got anything harder?” He adjusts his chair and the outside of his bare arm brushes against mine, setting more tingles darting across my skin. For a moment, I remember how it felt to be trapped beneath the weight of his body. I swallow, twisting my hair from my face.

“Let me see.” I flick through the pages of questions I’d prepared for this tutoring session. I’d expected to spend most of the hour on the first few pages. I didn’t think he’d be able to answer the question that easily. Finally, I find something more challenging and once again he swivels it towards him. His leg jiggles under the table and I can feel the vibration of it through the library floorboards. Then he taps the pen against his mouth, forcing my gaze to rest on his plush lips, “I can talk you through how to–”

His pen meets the paper and he scribbles down the answer. I check my notes. It’s correct. He flicks through the final questions until he reaches the last one and then studies it, making a few scribbles before showing me his answer. It’s correct again.

Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms and grins at me.

“I don’t think you need a maths tutor,” I tell him.