As I leave the Art History building at the university, my eyes catch on obsidian-colored ones. My feet grind to a halt as thick shards of awareness slice through me. No matter how many times I see him, my reaction is always the same.
Always instantaneous.
Matteo.
There’s no way him showing up here is a random coincidence.
First the Art Institute and now campus?
Unable to resist the urge, my eyes hungrily sweep over him. He really is gorgeous. How is it possible that every time I see him, he looks better than before? He’s dressed in another dark suit that fits him to perfection.
I glance around, realizing that I’m not the only one checking him out. Girls slowly walk by the bench he’s sitting on, trying to snag his interest. A group of five young women keep craning their necks to get a better look at him. They giggle while admiring him.
I can’t blame them.
Lord knows I was tempted to blush and giggle the first time I saw him. Instead, I gawked mutely in the elevator.
So embarrassing.
Matteo doesn’t pay the girls any attention, but I still feel jealous. His gaze stays fixed on mine. Realizing that I’m at a standstill, I scold myself for reacting like a deer in headlights and walk toward him. He stands as I approach him.
“Hello.”
Ignoring his greeting, I blurt, “What are you doing here?”
His broad shoulders straighten as if preparing for battle. “I came for you.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “How did you know I was here?”
Should this stalkerish behavior scare me?
Probably.
He always seems to know where I’m going to be and when.
How does he know this?
A better question would be- why does he know this?
“I was hoping we could talk. Maybe I can give you a lift back to the building.”
I hitch my leather messenger bag higher on my shoulder, holding it like a security blanket. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
He takes a step toward me so that I have to crane my neck to hold his gaze. “That’s where we have a difference of opinion. I think we have a lot to discuss.”
Feeling more emboldened, I wave a hand dismissively in his direction.
People may not recognize him or know who he is, but based on his appearance and the way he carries himself, they know Matteo is someone powerful. He has a magnetic aura that draws you to him like a scrap of metal.
“Look, we slept together,” I say in a low voice to avoid giving the audience we have gained something to talk about. “It was nothing more than that. If you’re worried that it’ll be awkward running into each other in the building, don’t be. I’ve already moved on and forgotten about it.”
He doesn’t need to know that unbidden thoughts and images of him still flit through my mind several times a day.
Cocking his head to one side, he studies me until I fidget. Just as the weight of his gaze becomes unbearable, he says, “Really, bella? That’s a shame. I’ve spent the last week thinking about little else other than you.”
I rein in a snort. He must see the disbelief shining in my eyes.
“Are you angry that I haven’t been able to see you?”
When I was nothing more than a booty call in the middle of the night?
Hardly.
I’m not delusional.
“We had fun together.” I shrug as if one-night stands are my specialty. “But that’s all it was.”
“What if I told you that I wanted more?”
I’d call him a liar.
And I would tell myself that I’m a fool for believing him.
His limo pulls up to the curb. A man in a dark suit and shades walks around from the other side and opens the door, giving us an expectant look. If Matteo’s presence hasn’t drawn enough attention, this does the trick. Speculation over who he is runs rampant through the gathered crowd.
“Perhaps we can finish this discussion in private?” When I don’t budge, he tacks on, “Please.”
Because I’m not stupid and I learn from my mistakes, I know how dangerous getting in that car with him is to my well-being. My heart flips whenever he’s near. My palms sweat profusely. My mouth dries. My tummy trembles. No one has ever affected me the way this man does. Glancing around, I see I’m not alone. Plenty of girls are soaking right through their panties while watching him.
That thought is enough to harden my resolve.
“No.”
“No,” he repeats the word as if it’s completely foreign to him. “You won’t accept a ride from me?”
I shake my head. I can’t be alone with him. I’ll spread my legs in minutes. Who am I kidding? More like seconds. Distance and detachment are the only armor I have against him. And they’re flimsy at best.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because you and I have nothing to discuss.”
He takes another step closer and strokes my cheek with his knuckles. “That is where you’re wrong. We have much to talk about.”
How can one touch melt my insides like ice cream on a hot August day?
“Do we?”
His voice drops as his eyes glimmer with fire. “Most assuredly.”
Inhaling a shaky breath, I fight to hold firm in my stance. It seems vital to the power struggle taking place between us. “If you have something to say, we can talk right here.” I glance at the driver who is still waiting patiently. “But I’m not getting into that limo with you.”
Humor wars with hunger in his gaze. “Are you afraid to be alone with me? Afraid something will happen between us?”
There’s no point in lying, is there?
“Deathly.”
Looking thoughtful, he swipes his tongue over his teeth and shrugs. “Then I’ll have Victor drive you back to the building.”
Surprised by his capitulation, my brows knit together. “What about you?”
“After he drops you off, he’ll return for me.”
I peek at the gathered crowd of women. It’s as though a rock star is in their midst. I’m sure they would love to have Matteo all to themselves. Before my mind begins to spin with jealousy, his fingers slide under my chin, turning my head until my eyes once again meet his.
He says softly, “You have nothing to be concerned about.”
I think of the girl he screwed on his patio and the other one with him at the club. I’ve never been the jealous type, but it’s hard not to be when woman gawk at him everywhere he goes.
“Have dinner with me.”
That sounds much safer than being stuck in the limo with him.
“Just one dinner,” he cajoles. “That’s all I’m asking for. We’ll have a nice meal and talk. Nothing more than that.”
Biting my lip, I feel myself wavering. “When?”
“Tonight.” His eyes stay locked on mine. I could lose myself in their bottomless depths.
“Do you promise to behave?”
One side of his sexy mouth hitches before he says solemnly, “I promise that nothing will happen that you don’t want.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Closing my eyes, I ask quietly, "What time?”
“Six.”
I know damn well that going out with him will more than likely lead to me orgasming, and I still can’t say no.
“Okay. I’ll see you tonight at six.”
He pulls his phone out of his suit jacket pocket. “Want to text me your address?”
A gurgle of laughter escapes me, breaking the tension between us. His lips lift in response.
“I don’t think I want you to have my cell number.”
Unoffended, he shrugs and slips the phone back into his pocket. Our gazes hold as I slide into the limo. Victor severs the connection by closing the door. Just as I huff out a relived breath for getting away with my panties intact, my phone chimes with an incoming message.
Already have it, bella.
My breath stalls as I gape at the screen.
Seriously, who is this man?