Page 5 of Wild Skies (Rugged Loners #3)

Five

Maren

I can’t believe Professor Carter is in the river, looking like a modern day Adonis with that sculpted chest. All the other guys look young and half-cooked next to him—like puppies beside a full grown dog.

They’re jostling for his attention, yelling out and splashing each other, but right now, Professor Carter only has eyes for me.

He swims toward me, head held calmly above the river, powerful arms cutting through the water. And to an outside observer, he probably looks bored right now, his features carefully schooled—but I see the way his jaw clenches when he glances at Tommy. I see the hard glint in his navy blue eyes.

He’s… the professor is jealous.

Because of me? Seriously?

This guy just spent three whole days pretending I don’t exist, and now he’s jealous of Tommy. I will never understand men.

“Hey, professor,” Tommy calls out, grinning as he flicks a few more beads of water at my face. “You trying to get Maren here to join in? Because it’s an impossible task so far.”

My lips press together, and I squint out at the locals lazing on the riverbank, chatting and joking together. The scent of grilling meat floats on the breeze, and someone’s plucking at a guitar. They’re not bad.

It’s a hot, sunny day in the mountains, and we saw more meteors last night. A cute guy from my class is flirting with me in the river, and even if I don’t like Tommy that way, it’s an ego boost. This should be a perfect moment, but as the professor reaches us, my stomach cramps with uncertainty.

Is he mad at me? Have I done something wrong?

No , a stern voice pipes up in the back of my mind. You haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t be a doormat, Maren.

My spine straightens.

“I need a word with Maren,” Professor Carter says in that low, smooth voice. He spares a crooked smile for Tommy, but the strain around his eyes is still there. “It’s about her class assignment.”

Tommy blinks and laughs. He waves an arm around the river, showering droplets that sparkle in the sunshine. “Really? Right now?”

Professor Carter nods. “Right now.” His tone turns rueful, and his broad shoulders shrug. “I’m getting old, Tommy. If I don’t talk to Maren about this now, I’ll forget all about it by dinnertime.”

Tommy laughs again, commiserating this time. “Shit. Well, I hope I never get old.”

Professor Carter frowns and cocks his head. “I rather hope you do.”

But Tommy has already gone, winking at me and splashing me one last time before turning and swimming back toward the knot of people playing with a football.

They welcome him with cheers, one guy jumping on him and holding him under for a few seconds.

When Tommy resurfaces, he spits river water in the guy’s face and cackles.

“It’s like the discovery channel,” I murmur, weirdly hypnotized by the sight of the other students messing around together.

I’ve never been great with big groups of people, always having just a handful of close friends, and envy gnaws at my insides as I watch them all mess around and bond.

How do they do it? They all make it look so easy .

Professor Carter is silent when I turn back to him, watching me from a foot away in the cold water. The gentle current breaks against his muscled chest, the water foaming and lapping at his smooth skin, while goosebumps stand out on his arms.

My belly swoops.

Suddenly, I am acutely aware that neither of us is wearing many clothes.

“Funny,” I say at last, my voice sounding kinda strangled, “I handed in my class assignment weeks ago. You already graded it.”

“Maren.” The professor moves toward me another step, like he can’t help it. Like he’s been drawn toward me magnetically, even when it means moving against the river current. “I saw you and Tommy.”

His navy eyes probe into me, staring right into my soul. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t just been ignored by this man for three days straight, I’d say he looks tortured.

I lift one shoulder, trying to act casual. Like I’m not completely rattled by having him so close and shirtless. Close enough to reach out and touch, and no one would see. “Saw us doing what?”

Another step closer. And this river is icy cold where it runs down off the mountains, but sudden heat spreads through my insides, making me want to pant and fan myself. I feel his heat too, warming the slow-moving water between us.

“Talking,” Professor Carter says. “Teasing. Flirting.”

He’s so freaking jealous right now, and it’s a sight to see. Our usually unflappable, put-together professor is unraveling at the seams, his jaw clenched and his eyes strained. His pulse is visible where it taps quickly beneath his jaw.

“Did you see that?” I tilt my head, grinning in the sunshine. “From both of us? Are you sure?”

“Maren.”

“Because really, I’m surprised you saw anything , what with how you’ve been ignoring me lately. I’m shocked you even deigned to look in my direction.” And now I’m still teasing, but it’s also true. The way this man shut me out over the last few days… it sucked. It hurt.

So maybe he deserves to watch another guy flirt with me in the water. Maybe it feels good to know that someone wants me.

Maybe I’m not sorry at all.

The sun is warm on our bare skin, and the distant guitarist switches to a new song. The mountain breeze ruffles our hair, and right now I’m so glad that we’re out here in the wilderness, where I can drag in lungfuls of fresh, crisp air. It’s cleansing.

“Maren,” the professor says again, quiet and low, just for me.

He sinks an inch lower in the water, like he can hide the intensity between us from prying eyes.

Over his shoulder, we’re getting a few curious glances from the other students, but mostly they’re too wrapped up in each other to care. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Hearing him say those words… doesn’t feel as good as I hoped. My hands wave idly in the water, and I nibble my bottom lip. What is he even sorry for? That hug? Ignoring me afterward? Or charging over here when Tommy dared to flirt with me?

What the hell does this man want ?

He’s close enough now that I could put my hands on him beneath the water. I could slide a palm across his chest, his ridged stomach, could dip my thumb into his belly button. Could slide right down beneath the waistband of his swim shorts, and touch my professor where a student never, ever should.

Just the thought is enough to make my stomach twist with need. My thighs squeeze together beneath the water, and I drift closer by another inch, until we’re a hand’s width apart, both hunkering low in the river, only the tops of our shoulders and our heads showing.

To an outside observer, we could be discussing my class assignment, just like the professor said.

Having a quiet, calm, serious conversation away from the splashes and yells of the other students.

The sun is high in the sky, shining down on all of us, but right now it’s like we’re alone in the shadows again.

“You,” I say, poking the professor’s sculpted chest, “need to figure out what you want.”

He scoffs, catching my wrist and placing my whole hand against his body. He’s so solid, so warm, his heartbeat drumming against my palm, and my nails dig in without permission from my brain.

“Believe me,” he says, “that is not the problem here. The problem is that I know exactly what I want, in lurid detail, and I can’t have it.”

My heart knocks against my rib cage. “Well… not yet.”

Heat and hope flash in the professor’s eyes, and his thumb rubs against my inner wrist. “Not yet,” he agrees, his usually smooth voice gone raspy. “But do you think… after this semester is over, do you think…”

“ Yes. ”

Can’t believe he needs to ask me that. It’s so obvious, isn’t it? Splashed all over my face like the droplets of river water.

I’ve pined after this man for months now.

He’s starred nightly in my dreams, and I’ve thought about him while awake too—while idly daydreaming, while walking between classes, while trying and failing to concentrate on my essays, and yes.

While slipping a hand between my legs and easing the now-constant ache that he started in me.

“Fuck.” The professor closes his eyes for a long moment, still as a statue except for the thumb moving in steady circles against my wrist. “Okay. Okay.”

“Professor Carter—”

“Greg,” he interrupts, opening his eyes. They pin me in place, and I’m helpless. Breathless. “When we’re alone, call me Greg.”

I swallow hard, darting a glance all around us. No one’s watching us right now; no one cares. No one has any idea that my world just turned upside down and shook everything out of place.

The professor wants me too. Greg wants me too. Not just for a forbidden hookup, but for something longer. Something real.

Oh, hell. My thighs squeeze together, slipping past each other, but at this rate I’ll need a solid hour alone in my tent, biting down on my pillow to keep quiet.

I need him, and some of that desperation must show on my face, because Professor Carter— Greg —makes a low noise and reaches out beneath the water.

Blunt fingertips brush against my hip. I jerk and let out a squeak, blushing hotter than the sun, but when he pauses and looks at me, I nod frantically.

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper.

A muscle leaps in the professor’s jaw.

Nostrils flaring, he takes a slow, casual glance all around us, but everyone else here is wrapped up in their own world.

Swimming and laughing; splashing and yelling.

Lazing on the riverbank and chewing on burgers.

Plucking guitar strings and manning the grill.

No one can see us with the way Greg’s back blocks their eye lines, and the slow-moving current blurs the view below water anyhow.

Only Tommy spots us looking as he climbs up on his friend’s shoulders, and he waves and whoops before falling backward into the water. Oblivious.