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Janna pulled her car into the driveway of the co-op and rested her head on the steering wheel, already exhausted. She'd fought to keep her concentration on the road, on the green blur of miles passing by. A green blur that reminded her of a certain sexy millionaire's eyes. Thoughts like these kept breaking through the thin veneer of her focus, and she'd been forced to push away the memory of his kisses, of his embrace, of his skilled tongue and hard maleness. He was the best lover she'd ever had, simply amazing. She was just as amazed at her own behavior last night.
Had she really traveled into deep throat territory? Had she begged the man to fuck her? Janna felt like her cheeks would stay red for a week. She'd told herself last night that she wouldn't regret her actions, but it had all made sense in the fog of her alcohol-induced surrender. You can't blame it all on the bottle, her conscience chided her. You wanted him before you had your first drink.
So what if I did? she shot back, I would have never made a move without the burn of liquid courage in my belly. Her conscience might not believe her, but it had to be true. It was a one night stand, a fling, a hookup. A reward for a year of hard work. But like good dark chocolate, too much made you sick. Better to nibble a little piece and savor it.
Janna knew that a man like Brice would be easy to fall for. Forget the millions; just his smile was enough to make her heart go pitter-patter. And Janna knew she was much too susceptible to the charming fantasy of Brice Masterson. If she saw him again, her heart would convince her mind that it was okay to believe that a man like him could want a woman like her long-term.
A woman who didn't know where she was going half the time. A woman who had already kicked 30's door down and hadn't even achieved her own apartment yet, let alone a career. Sure, a sophisticated, handsome, intelligent, witty millionaire just couldn't help falling in love with the oldest graduate student in the biology department, one whose dissertation on the mating habits of the slender salamander might end up being the most rewritten document in history.
With a weary exhale, Janna pulled herself out of her old Volvo and trudged up the co-op steps, tugging on the waistband of Brice's sweatpants. Shit, how am I gonna get his clothes back to him?
Don't worry, her inner voice responded, he can buy himself a warehouse of old t-shirts and sweatpants if he wants. He won't miss them. She entered the spacious house which now served as home to about twenty grad students and an oversized cat named Norman. Norman was nowhere to be seen as Janna climbed the rickety steps to her own room. The doors around her started to bang open and closed, but Janna burrowed under her covers, closing her eyes and willing unconsciousness to descend.
Unfortunately, unconsciousness was unwilling to go down without a fight.
A pair of bright green eyes appeared on the backs of her eyelids, and she wasn't quick enough in banishing them. They were replaced by a wide white smile that revealed his hidden chin dimple. Her over-stimulated mind began a slideshow of images that soon had her clenching her thighs together in desire for relief. Janna groaned, embarrassment warring with the desire to repeat the sexily sinful acts she had committed, repeat them over and over again. Brice Masterson was the most addictive man she'd ever met.
After he'd heard her remarks about trust funds and rich folks, instead of having her shown out, he'd pursued her like a hound running down a rabbit. And for a rabbit, she'd been very ready to be caught. But the rabbit regretted its status as prey the morning after its throat had been ripped out. Janna shook her head to clear it of her dark thoughts. Surely it wasn't that severe. It'd been a night to remember, but that was all.
Realizing that sleep wasn't coming anytime soon, Janna rolled over and reached into her backpack on the floor next to her bed. She pulled out a copy of the Central Willamette Weekly and flipped to the 'Community' section. Time for a new hobby, something to take my mind off the handsome playboy with a secret dimple. She'd allowed herself a night with Brice as a distraction from the seemingly eternal frustration of her dissertation. Now she needed a distraction from her distraction.
The weekly periodical listed upcoming classes in all manner of topics -- meditation, massage, gardening, bicycling, martial arts, visual arts, and crafts of unlimited permutations -- and Janna was no stranger to the offerings. She'd tried just about every course on the list and now scouted for something she hadn't dipped a toe into yet. There were only three candidates: Elementary Watercolors, Japanese 101, and Qigong I. Japanese was right out -- no reason to take on extra homework in the middle of writing a dissertation. That left either an art class or an exercise class. Qigong was interesting, a relaxing workout of slow movements and channeling energy. But a sudden image of Brice Masterson, shirtless, practicing the unhurried motions of the martial art, pushed Elementary Watercolors to the top of the pile.
Decision made, she snuggled back under her covers and once again closed her eyes. A new hobby always brought her a sense of calm accompanied by a tiny spark of excitement at trying something new. Yeah, well, last night that little spark went haywire and became a bonfire. Sure, sometimes you could overdose on something new. You just had to know when to bail out. Like this morning. Janna groaned, realizing she was thinking about him again. Dammit!