Page 9 of Wild Skies (Rugged Loners #3)

Eight

Greg

M aren is quiet on the bus ride home. The others all blast music and sing along at the top of their lungs, or spin around in their seats to flirt with the passengers behind them.

They’re jubilant—our trip has been successful, we saw the Thelseid meteor shower and collected prime recordings and data, and not only that, but we’ve had barely any interpersonal drama. Even their hangovers seem mild.

But Maren sits alone, silent and thoughtful, her plump mouth pursed as she stares out of the window. She’s so beautiful, my chest aches.

My gaze tracks to her incessantly, watching her in the rear view mirror, but there’s nothing I can do to check on her while I’m driving. All I can do is worry, forcibly yanking my attention back to the road. Focus.

She’s fine.

I’m sure she’s fine.

Never mind the hurt in her eyes when I rushed her out of my tent this morning before dawn. Never mind how terribly I handled that whole thing, too muddled by sleep to recognize that I was behaving like an ass. My gut sinks like a stone at the memory.

I’ve never felt as helpless and ridiculous as I did this morning, crouching in my tent and trying not to breathe too loud. I’m a grown man. A celebrated professor, and this situation has me sneaking around like a reckless teenager.

The bus lurches over a bump in the road and we all sway in our seats, some of the students whooping like they’re in a rodeo. I swallow hard, staring dry-eyed at the highway as the sun beats through the windshield. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine.

Maren .

I can’t help it. I steal another glance, my gaze drawn to her as inevitably as the moon is tethered to the Earth.

She stares out of the bus window, barely reacting to being jostled by the rough road. Maren’s blonde hair is tied back in a fiddly little braid, and her cheeks are pink from the long days of sunshine.

Her mouth is turned down, and her shoulders are slumped. My gut cramps.

She looks sad.

As we drive on, my fingers flex on the steering wheel and I make a silent resolution: this can’t go on. It’s not fair to either of us.

Maren deserves so much better than this lonely bus journey.

* * *

Eight hours later, the bus pulls into its designated bay on campus.

The handbrake creaks as I yank it on, killing the engine.

The bus ticks audibly as it cools, and I spin to face the students.

They’re slumped in their seats, most of them napping from the center of travel pillows.

Maren is sleeping too, her forehead resting against the bus window.

“Okay,” I call, stifling a smile as a few of them jerk awake.

They wipe the drool from the corners of their mouths, blinking sleepily as they elbow their neighbors.

Maren wakes too, rubbing at her eyes as murmurs fill the bus.

“We’re home, but you’re not off the hook just yet, I’m afraid. There’s one last task for us all.”

A couple of groans break out, but most of them nod, Maren included. They’re used to carrying the equipment as a group, after all, and hauling the telescopes and cameras a short way across campus is far easier than a mile up a mountainside. This will be easy after the last two weeks.

“Come on.” My seat belt clicks open, slithering across my chest, and my muscles are stiff as I stand. “Once more for luck.”

Rex springs to his feet, shaking out his limbs dramatically, and a few others copy him. One by one, the students file off the warm, stale bus to gather with me in the fresh air outside.

It’s cold here. The breeze is gentler than in the mountains, blocked by buildings all around, but the sun is weaker too, smothered by a patchy layer of cloud.

Instead of forests and mountain peaks, brick buildings loom in all directions.

Instead of birdsong, the rumble of distant traffic and the faint thud of gym music fill the air.

Usually, when I come back to campus after a stretch of time away, it’s a relief. Everything is familiar, everything makes sense. Here, I have the respect of my students and colleagues, and the freedom to research whatever I want in my field. Coming home to that is like slipping into a warm bath.

When I was a lowly grad student, this felt like an impossible dream. And I’ve never taken my success for granted—not once.

But today, coming back to campus after two weeks away with Maren…

It’s claustrophobic. Brick buildings close in on all sides, and blank windows stare down at us, ready to catch me staring at my student for a beat too long.

I’m trapped, a specimen under a microscope, and after glancing at Maren every few minutes on the drive back here, I can’t trust myself to even look in her direction now.

Does she care? Is that same hurt swimming in her big blue eyes as this morning? I don’t fucking know, and it eats through my insides like acid.

“Alright, let’s go.” Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. “Back to my office, please.”

We trudge across campus in a loose cluster, all laden with cases and bags of equipment as well as our own personal backpacks.

Despite the long day of travel and this final chore, the students chat happily and laugh together, their sneakers scuffing against the paved paths.

They part to let a cyclist through, and a few of them make kissy noises at an ugly pigeon pecking by a bench.

My office is on the third floor of the natural sciences building. It’s a corner office with big windows and a private bathroom, and someone has clearly been watering my various plants. The students file in obediently, stacking the equipment cases and bags in a pile in the center of the rug.

“That’ll do.” My smile feels odd, as though my face has forgotten how to make normal expressions, but I am grateful to this group. They’re good students, all of them. “Thank you all for the last two weeks. I’ll deal with the equipment from here. Go on and settle back into your rooms.”

Laughing and jostling each other, they all call goodbye and turn to go—all except the quiet, subdued girl at the back. Maren doesn’t look up from the floor as she turns to leave, and Christ, I can’t take it for another second.

“A moment please, Maren,” I call, my voice calmer than I feel. If she leaves my office looking that sad, I will claw my own eyes out. “I’d like another word about your class assignment.”

Finally, she looks up, blue eyes catching mine before they dart away. She nods awkwardly, stepping to one side as the others all leave. A few of them offer fist bumps as they pass her, and Maren smiles weakly as she says goodbye.

Then we’re alone. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The empty office stretches between us, a seemingly impossible distance.

“Shut the door, please,” I rasp.

Maren turns robotically, doing as I ask.

“Lock it,” I add. “If you—if you’re comfortable with that, I mean.”

Thunk.

The lock clicks into place, then Maren squares her shoulders and turns to face me. Her chin is raised, defiant.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Her voice is soft but clear. “I know I messed up by falling asleep in your tent. I know I put everything at risk for you, and I know you don’t want to do this anymore. I know , professor. You don’t need to say it.”

My heart slams against my ribs, and I shake my head slowly. Is that what she’s been telling herself all day, slowly getting sadder and sadder? Is that why she looks so resigned now, like a doomed woman waiting for the ax to fall?

“Bullshit.”

The word clangs to the ground between us. Maren jolts, her eyebrows shooting up in confusion.

“Bullshit,” I say again, striding slowly around the pile of priceless equipment. I’ll deal with the telescopes and cameras later. I’ll check the bus back in with campus facilities; I’ll collate the data we collected.

Everything can wait except this.

“You think I’m angry at you.” I come to a stop in front of Maren, cupping her jaw gently. She shudders out a breath and gazes up at me, her eyes swimming with exhausted emotion. “You think I blame you for the fact that we have to sneak around. Listen to me: that is bullshit , Maren.”

She clings to my forearms, swaying toward me like she can’t help herself. Like I knock her center of gravity off balance, just like she does with mine.

“But—”

“I’m tired of this,” I say abruptly, cutting across her.

As far as I’m concerned, there should not be even a tiny kernel of doubt in her mind.

It’s a travesty that I let her doubt us at all.

“I’m tired of acting like what we’re doing is wrong.

Tired of pretending the way I feel is wrong. On Monday, I’m going to quit.”

Maren gasps, starting to shake her head, but I keep talking.

“There are other colleges, sweetheart. Other places for me to work. Believe me, my career will not be an issue. But if I let this go on, if I keep hurting you to protect my job… I’ll break this thing between us before we’ve even begun.”

And I couldn’t stand that. Couldn’t survive that.

Maren is everything, and I’m done hiding that fact from the world.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” The words grate out of me, so sour on my tongue, but I force myself to say them.

This only works if we’re both all-in, and she’s still blinking up at me, dazed by this new outburst. “Tell me that you don’t feel that way, that you don’t want me to quit.

Tell me, Maren, and I’ll listen. I won’t pressure you into anything. ”

My student sucks in a slow breath, holds it for a few seconds, then exhales. When she blinks, tears cling to her eyelashes, and her hands tighten on my forearms. We’re both dressed in hiking clothes, both still clothed for the wilderness, and it’s so alien in my clean-cut office.

“No,” Maren whispers. “I want this too.”

My heart soars.

“Come here.”

I lean down, her arms looping around my neck, and then she jumps up, ass resting on my forearm. Our heartbeats rattle together, chests sealed, and the warmth of Maren’s sweet, soft body seeps into my front.

“We’re in your office,” she hisses, scandalized, as I press her against the locked door. “There are other people in the building. Someone might hear. Or come looking for you.”

But her ankles lock behind my back, and my laugh is muffled against her hair. Maren shivers, pressing closer to me despite her words.

“Exactly,” I murmur, lining us up so that the rigid line of my cock presses against the damp heat between her legs.

Christ. How many times have I dreamed of this?

Arousal winds through me, tense and torturous, and I grind against her, static buzzing in my brain.

“After tomorrow, we won’t be professor and student anymore, sweetheart.

This is our last chance to break the rules. ”

Her delighted laugh vibrates through my whole body. Stifling a groan, I lick at the pulse point beneath her jaw, reveling in the salty taste of her skin.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Maren says. Her thighs flex, and her body rolls against mine, teasing my shaft through my clothes. My teeth grit together, trapping a tortured growl in my chest.

“You have no idea,” I grind out, ducking down to bite and nibble at her slender shoulder. “No idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

Even now, I’m lightheaded with the sensations of her body against mine. Dizzy with this daydream coming to life. Is this real?

“Oh, believe me, professor.” Maren’s fingers wind through my hair, tugging until my scalp prickles with heat. My head tilts back, my chest heaving. “I have an inkling.”

Then my shy, sweet student yanks my face down to hers—and kisses me so deeply that I come apart at the seams.