2
THERE WAS NO SIGN of this being a typical college kid’s room. Luka waited for me to go inside, so I stepped hesitantly through the doorway. A queen-sized bed took up most of the far wall, a dresser occupied the left side, and on the right, a large, brown leather couch. The room was clean, nicely furnished, and the bed made.
“This is the resident advisor’s room,” Luka said. “And it concludes the tour.”
“What?”
As I whirled around to face him, Luka shut the door, closing us in together. My heart leapt in my chest and raced. Oh shit, I’d been stupid. So, so stupid. I took a step back defensively, needing space.
“Whoa.” Luka’s deep voice was hushed and his arms held up in surrender. “This is the furthest place in the house from the party. We might actually be able the hear each other in here.”
“Hear each other what?” Anxiety flooded my voice.
He took a breath. “I can open the door if you’d feel more comfortable, but it’ll be louder, and I want to talk to you.”
His words did nothing to calm me, but my anxiety shifted slowly from danger to my lack of experience with men. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You.”
I’d swear he could sense the change in my nerves. The light from the streetlamps outside flooded through the window, and shadows played across Luka’s face, giving him an almost threatening cast. But it faded when a faint smile tugged across his lips.
“What’s your major?”
My heart was lodged in my throat, making it difficult to breathe or speak. “Biology. Pre-med.”
“Oh.” Most people looked impressed when I told them that, but not Luka. His expression remained fixed.
“You?”
“I’m alumni now. I got my MBA last year.”
A warning flashed through me. What was he doing at a frat party when he didn’t go to Randhurst anymore? My unease must have been visible.
“My brother, Vasilije,” Luka said quickly, like he wanted to explain. “He got in trouble, and part of the deal he made with my father was I get to keep an eye on him.” His tone was sharp. “I have things I’d rather fucking do than hang out with a bunch of drunk, underage college kids.”
The statement rankled. “I’m not drunk, underage, or a kid compared to you.”
I wasn’t prepared for Luka’s smirk. It looked like sin when it washed through his expression. “No? If you’re not underage, why aren’t you at the bars?”
Crap. I shifted on my heels. “My roommate’s not twenty-one.” It wasn’t a lie.
“So, Addison, we’re both stuck here for other people.” Luka took a step toward me, and even though there was still quite a bit of space left between us, his one small step felt enormous. Like he was now twice the size he’d been a second ago.
My chest was beginning to feel warm, no doubt from the tequila. “How is it you remember my name?”
“Probably for the same reason you remember mine.”
That was incredibly doubtful, but I kept my face plain. “Calculus was that memorable for you?”
“Yeah, it was. You were there every class, staring at me.”
I inhaled sharply, mortified, and tore my gaze away. “I did not.”
“Look at me.” His firm tone made it so there was no other option but to obey. When I did, his black eyes were focused and intense. “You stared when you didn’t think I could tell, but you weren’t very good at hiding it.” I opened my mouth to deny further, but he cut me off. “I was better than you. I made sure you never noticed I was looking.”
My brain disconnected and thought ceased. “Why?”
Luka’s hands rested casually on his hips, just over the fake police belt and gun holster. “Because a girl like you . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He seemed to search for the right word, but not find it, and every drawn-out second that passed made it worse. Because a girl like you . . . Isn’t good enough. Rich enough. Smart enough. A girl like you isn’t experienced enough.
“You shouldn’t be interested in a guy like me.”
“What?” I was intelligent and well spoken, and yet I couldn’t choke out more than one word at a time.
“I’m not a nice guy.”
I swallowed hard. “Well . . .” How was I supposed to respond to that? “I’m sure that’s not true.”
He said nothing. Luka remained like a statue with the light glinting off the shiny plastic badge clipped to his chest. He didn’t argue or defend himself, and tension wound around us like ruthless vines.
My question was breathy. “Why did you stare at me if you weren’t interested?”
“Did I say I wasn’t interested?” He took another step, growing larger still, reaching a point where I couldn’t see anything else. Just him. “Nobody looked at me the way you did, and I liked it. It’s exactly how you’re looking at me now.”
All the air vanished from the room.
“And how’s that?” I said. It was dizzying when he took the final step and brought us chest to chest, his mouth inches from mine. I stared up at him with wide eyes. Was any of this effect from the tequila, or was it all him? His gaze traced over each inch of my face, and I could feel it etching into my skin.
“Like you want me to do bad things to you.”
Oh my God.
As he’d done, I stood motionless, neither confirming nor denying. I held my breath, waiting for him to make his move. I expected him to kiss me. Or maybe laugh in my face, although Luka didn’t seem like the type to laugh easily. He was deadly serious.
“Do you?” His question was soft and indifferent, even as it carried the weight of an enormous challenge.
Did I want him to do bad things to me? “I don’t know,” I blurted out. “Maybe.”
Luka looked just as I felt—surprised by my admission. What had I just sort of agreed to? A tremble began in the backs of my knees and moved upward when his head tipped down. His mouth lowered until his warm lips sealed over mine.
Everything was madness. My actions, the situation, and most importantly, his kiss. I spun out of control under his mouth, surrendering to it completely, even as the kiss was tame. Luka pressed his lips to mine tentatively, but when I parted my lips to gasp, he took advantage.
His tongue dipped into my mouth and was an electric jolt straight between my legs. Did I taste like tequila as he did to me, or could he also taste my lust? I had two years’ worth, and this kiss broke the dam holding it back. It poured from me, and as I spun, I latched my hands onto his shoulders to keep myself steady.
What the hell was I doing? Making out with a stranger in a private room at a frat party . . . who was I? Luka’s hands grasped my hips and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss and pressing me against his solid form. He wasn’t really a stranger, though. I felt like I knew him.
My fingertips tangled in his hair. I hadn’t realized my hands had wandered until Luka’s mouth began to slide away from mine. It drifted across my cheek, down over my jawline, and onto my neck. I shivered from his hot breath beside my ear.
“What are you supposed to be?” His voice was low, verging on hypnotic. “Naughty schoolgirl, or Britney Spears, the early years?”
His mouth was drugging me, working in tandem with the tequila snaking in my system. His teeth skimmed the pulse racing in my neck, just below my ear. Oh, that felt good. My legs threatened to go boneless, and I clung tighter to him.
“Whichever one,” I said between hurried breaths, “you like more.”
I stood powerless beneath his kiss and his hands for a long time, trying to savor it. This wasn’t my exact fantasy come to life, but it was pretty damn close. I’d let Luka do all sorts of bad things as long as he kept kissing me.
The thumping bass from downstairs abruptly cut off, followed by jeers and complaints from the partygoers. Luka’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. Had the party been busted?
Just as quickly as it had cut off, the music began again. Perhaps they’d just had technical difficulties with the audio, but it had been enough of a surprise to pull Luka and me from the moment. The dazed look in his eyes melted away and he returned to his usual state. Serious and guarded.
As I reluctantly slid my hands down his chest and away from him, I tried to regain some sense.
“What about your roommate?” he asked. His hands remained on my waist, trapping me. “Is she going to come looking for you?”
No, not a chance. “It’s doubtful.”
“Maybe I should lock the door just to be safe.”
His words brought a fresh wave of nerves to coil in my belly. Luka didn’t want to be disturbed. What exactly did he think was going to happen?
“I . . .” It was impossible to organize my thoughts. “I don’t even know your last name.”
His hands released me and his posture went rigid, like I’d just asked something extremely personal. “You don’t need to know it.”
I scrunched my face into a scowl. “Then you definitely don’t need to lock the door.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out loudly, signaling frustration. “It’s Markovic.”
Markovic. Why was that name familiar? There was a hard edge to Luka’s expression, watching me intently, as if waiting for me to recognize it.
“Markovic Motors?” I guessed. There was a chain of car dealerships on the south side of the city whose jingle was annoyingly catchy. A universally recognizable melody to all of Chicago, but not terribly nostalgic.
His dark eyes blinked slowly. “Yeah. My father owns it.”
I couldn’t place the emotion on his face. Was he embarrassed about this, and if so, why? Was he one of those people who was uncomfortable with their own wealth? As a girl who’d grown up in a family that struggled to get by, I couldn’t understand it at all.
Now that Luka had taken his hands off of me, I was cold. A large part of me wanted to go back to what we’d been doing moments ago. His mouth had been on fire, and I shivered in the absence of his warmth. I longed for his body to be pressed back against mine, but my head railed against it.
He didn’t ask, so I offered. “I’m Addison Drake.”
“I remember,” he said. “Addison Drake with her perfect handwriting, except for her weird twos.”
“What? My twos aren’t weird.”
“They’re just loops. It took me a while to figure them out. I almost graded your homework wrong.” His gaze drilled into me. “Would that have gotten you to talk to me? I can’t imagine perfect Addison Drake would allow herself to get something less than an A.”
My mouth dropped open. Was he playfully teasing me, or being a jerk? “I’m not perfect.”
Luka softly brushed his knuckles over my cheekbone. When I shuddered from the contact, his eyes flashed with desire. “See, now, I disagree.”
Jesus, where the hell was the air? Goosebumps lifted on the skin of my bare legs as his fingers cupped my chin and tilted my lips to meet his once more.
This time the kiss was dangerous. It flared wildly, consuming everything. I’d kissed boys before. I’d had boyfriends and fooled around, but it’d never been anything like this. Luka’s grip on my chin gave way and his fingers dove into the hair at the nape of my neck, twining in the strands.
“Oh,” I gasped as he yanked hard, tugging my head back. His grip was almost painful, but the shock of it was exciting. My one serious boyfriend had been timid and awkward, so this was unfamiliar.
Confidence rolled off of Luka like he knew with absolute certainty what he was doing. As if he understood just how much grip in my hair I could take. His teeth were less subtle this time on my neck. The sharp stubble dotting his jawline grazed against my skin and, when I instinctively tried to move away, his fist clenched tighter in my hair, holding me in place. Keeping me from escaping.
My breath raged through my parted lips as his other hand was on my hip, yanking me so our lower bodies collided, and I could feel something hard pressing against my stomach, something I was sure wasn’t his fake gun.
“Am I hurting you?” His dark voice rang out between my gasps for breath.
I tried to shake my head, but his hold wouldn’t allow it. I had no choice but to use words, so I said it in a shaky voice. “No.”
“Good.”
His hand glided down my hip, over the fabric of my skirt, all the way past the hem and onto the bare skin of my thigh. I bit down on my lip and closed my eyes as his hand crept inward, sliding toward my center. It inched up, raising my skirt with it. Up, and up . . .
I had to stop this before it went any further. My head was buzzing from the alcohol and his kiss, and I didn’t want to make a decision I’d regret later, even though my body was eager for his hand to continue its journey north of my hemline.
Luka paused when I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, urging him to stop. “Wait,” I whispered. I’d stopped him just a fraction of an inch from my panties, which was closer than any man had gotten in a long time.
His gaze locked on to mine, and then his fingers twitched. They reached up just enough to touch me through the damp cotton covering the most intimate part of myself. I bucked, but remained ensnared as Luka’s captive.
He drew back and seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m gonna lock the door,” he said. His voice was so deep and quiet, it was almost a growl. “You’ll go sit on the couch.”