Page 23 of Ruthless Game

“I’d love to be. C’mon, friend. Let’s go over these lesson plans and then teach our students how to swim.”

When Maya and I opened the door to the pool area, there were nine other college students sitting on a bench facing us. They were all here because they’d failed—or never took—the swim test, a requirement to graduate from Reina.

Five girls, four guys. We were short one student. One of the guys, a good-looking redhead, eyed me up and down, then grinned.

“Heyyyyy,” he drawled.

Oh no.

I did not date. I did not flirt. I did not touch men. Lawson had destroyed me for anyone else. I’d never be loved again the way he’d loved me at first, and I never wanted to hurt the way he’d hurt me, ever again. I already had to deal with his torment. I wasn’t adding another man to complicate my life further or cause even more pain.

Checking the time on the big clock above the door on the other side of the pool, I shrugged to myself and got started, ignoring the flirty redhead.

“Hi, I’m Emma, this is Maya. We’ll be teaching you to swim this semester. Don’t worry, I know the pool seems scary, but the first rule about water is to respect it. Being intimidated by it is totally natural, but as you get comfortable in the water, you’ll feel less afraid of it, promise.”

“What she said,” Maya chirped, and all the stiff, tense students around us relaxed, some even cracking smiles.

“Okay!” I clapped my hands. “Why doesn’t everyone go around and introduce themselves. And then we’ll get in the pool. Today’s first class is called: How Not to Drown.”

At that, everyone laughed, relaxing further. One by one, they introduced themselves. Most were seniors who’d avoided taking swimming until this year, probably when their academic advisors reminded them of the looming graduation requirement. The redhead’s name was Matthew Lindon III. He stressed “the third” so intensely, I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. I’d known a lot of wealthy, entitled douche canoes at Oxford—some with actual titles. I was over it.

Lawson had never been pretentious or entitled. Not only because he hadn’t grown up with the privilege and entitlement of generational wealth, but because he wasn’t built that way. He’d been cocky, sure, but in an endearing, hockey goalie way. I missed that about him.

No. No. I didn’t. I didn’t miss anything about him. All I wanted was for him to leave me the hell alone so I could get back to my life and forget he existed.

Behind me, the door to the men’s changing room opened.

“Okay, now that we know each other, let’s get in the pool. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” I joked.

“Didn’t you always?” A deep voice, aggravatingly familiar, said behind me.

Surprised laughter burst out around me, but I couldn’t care about that.

You’ve got to be kidding.

I whipped around, only to come face-to-face with the object of my loathing. Or rather, face-to-chest.

And there was so much chest. His muscular pecs and eight pack were covered in light hair, leading a trail down to his swim shorts and highlighting his hip bones. If the thought of his facial hair turned me on , I wasn’t prepared for the hair on the rest of his body. Once again, the boy had been replaced by a man—a strong one, a fierce one, one who could’ve been a protector but had decided to be my punisher instead.

Lawson cleared his throat.

“Eyes up here,” he murmured.

My face flamed. My neck burned. My chest was on fire. I was one of those unfortunately pale blondes who turned bright pink when I was embarrassed. How dare he stand there, looking so damn fine, and insinuate that we had a history in front of my students?

More loudly he said, “You know, I think being ogled by my teacher probably goes against university policy. I’m feeling pretty uncomfortable here, Angel.”

More laughter. If I turned any redder, I was going to have to get treated for third degree burns.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. “Learning to swim. Right?” He glanced around, hamming it up for his audience. “This isn’t gymnastics class, is it? Horseback riding? Bal⁠—”

I put my hand up. “Enough.”

His eyes lit up—with humor and cruelty.

“For now,” he said.