Page 37 of Teach Me Your Ways

Lina flipped her hair. “I can’t wait.”

The next morning, I stood in the women’s locker room, staring at my reflection in the wetsuit. It wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t loose either. It clung in places I didn’t want it to cling. Although it did flatten my tummy. Unfortunately, it also made my hips look wider.

“Whatever,” I muttered.

I didn’t care what I looked like. I was too excited about the idea of getting to dive. Diving with Grady was just icing on the cake. Lina hadn’t shown up and I hated myself for hoping she didn’t. It would give me time with Grady alone. A wet Grady.

I walked out to the indoor pool area. The air was thick with humidity and chlorine. I loved the smell. Sophie loved swimming. Back home, we had spent many weekends in the community pool.

I didn’t even make it three steps before I saw him. Grady. Shirtless.

Sweet mother of all that was holy. The man looked like he could wrestle Poseidon and win. I actually licked my lips. Five more minutes in that office and I would have had my lips on his flat abdomen. Lower even. I would have gladly gone down on him and loved every second of it.

He was in swim trunks, casually talking to Lina, whose bikini left very little to the imagination. Her entire ass was on display. The G-string was basically nonexistent. The tiny scrap of cloth covering her lady bits was no bigger than my pinky finger. It was pretty clear she was bare down there. But it wasn’t her ass I found my gaze landing on.

My eyes roamed over Grady’s chest like I was mapping uncharted territory. The man was built like a Greek statue that had come to life and decided to become an archeology professor. His shoulders were broad and defined, tapering down to a lean waist that made my mouth water. There was a light dusting of hair across his chest that trailed down past his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim trunks in a way that made me want to follow it with my tongue.

And speaking of his swim trunks—fuck me! Either he was smuggling a snorkel in there or Professor Stone was packing some serious equipment. The navy fabric did absolutely nothing to hide the impressive outline beneath, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

But it was the tattoos that really did me in. An intricate compass rose decorated his left shoulder, the detailed linework speaking of hours in a tattoo chair. Below it, wrapped around his bicep, was what looked like ancient script—maybe Latin or Greek. Something scholarly and sexy as hell. On his ribs, partially hidden by the angle he was standing, I could make out the edge of what might have been a ship or anchor.

And then I looked down at my body stuffed into the wet suit and suddenly felt like an idiot.

I felt myself flush from the neck up. “Should I go change?”

Grady turned, saw me, and his whole posture shifted. His eyes moved from my face down to my legs and back again, slow and deliberate. I swallowed hard. It was my turn to feel like I was nude and on display. There was a lump lodged in my throat. My eyes shifted to the pool. I wanted to sink to the bottom and hide.

“No,” he said, almost too fast. “I was just telling Lina to suit up. I’m glad one of you actually paid attention.”

Lina’s eyes narrowed at me like I’d ruined her chances of being teacher’s pet. There was no doubt in my mind she wore that fucking little bikini to tempt Grady. He was a red-blooded man. Even a priest would be tempted. Hell, I was tempted.

She gave a little huff and stalked back toward the locker room, muttering something about how zippers were for quitters. Money didn’t buy class. Lina had zero. Her ass, firm as it was, bounced as she walked toward the locker room.

I stepped closer. “So, where’s your wet suit, Professor?”

He shrugged, muscles flexing in the best way. “I know the equipment. I’m here to observe.”

“Uh-huh. Observe Lina’s pale ass?”

He gave a strangled laugh. “Don’t. I’m trying to maintain plausible deniability here.”

“Right. Academic integrity and all that.”

“This is technically still a school activity,” he said. “And who dresses like that to class?”

“Someone who’s hot for teacher.” I paused, then added with mock innocence, “Professor.”

He groaned. “Don’t you start too. And don’t leave me alone with her. She’s like a feral cat in heat. It’s very awkward. And really uncomfortable.”

“Maybe she just wants some… guidance.”

He looked at me like I was the fire and he was already burning. “She won’t be getting it from me.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if the snorkel in his pants made an appearance because of Lina’s scanty attire. I wanted to tease him. Mostly because I was a little jealous and felt like teasing him would make me feel better.

Before I could say something truly stupid, the door opened and the dean walked in. Just what we needed. Bureaucracy in a pantsuit. My spymaster.

“I saw the training dive on the calendar,” she said, giving Grady a look that could have melted butter. “Thought I’d stop by. See how it’s going.”