“I thought you could stay a little longer…”

The questioning lilt at the end of his words causes my spine to stiffen, muscles tightening throughout my body.

It’s made worse when he dips his head to mine, and I eye him uneasily as his lips draw near.

Nope, nope, nope. This isn’t what I do. He knows this.

God. I knew this was a bad idea. Even recognized the signs he was getting attached. But, no, I had to go and give in because, well…

He’s really great in bed. Like in the world of food, he’d be a perfectly cooked filet mignon with tender broccolini and buttery garlic mashed potatoes.

Oh, holy moly. I think I just had a foodgasm.

I turn my head in the nick of time and slip out from underneath him. Slither is more like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This is definitely one of those moments.

“You know I can’t.” I roll over to the side of the bed and reach for my clothes in the haphazard pile nearby. An arm snakes around my waist.

I don’t turn around. The heavy, restraining weight of his arm elicits a powerful urge to shove it off.

“Can’t…or won’t?” His gentle words send shards of unease racing through me.

“Both.” I extricate myself from Teegan’s hold and hurriedly rush to the en suite bathroom. Thank God he’s one of the lucky ones who has a great dorm room setup. Guess it pays to be a star player on the baseball team.

Once I clean up and finish pulling on my clothes, I emerge from the bathroom and slide on my flip-flops. I grab my messenger bag and phone just as the alarm goes off, alerting me to my upcoming appointment.

“Gotta run.” I raise my eyes to meet his and work hard to hold back a violent cringe at his affectionate gaze. I don’t do attachments, nor am I a cuddler. I like sex—safe sex, mind you—but monogamous sex buddies who don’t get delusions in the form of a relationship are harder to find than one might imagine.

At his forlorn expression, I release a resigned sigh and wave a hand, gesturing back and forth between us. “You know I don’t do this.” I adjust the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Which is why I’ve gotta run.”

“So that’s it, huh?” Teegan’s tone is flat, and a tiny part of me feels sympathy. Until I remind myself I was completely up front about things in the beginning.

Nothing’s changed. Hell, anyone I know would attest to the fact he’s the last person who’s ready to settle down with a girl.

“Just running away?”

I stop and turn to face him. “I think that’s for the best.” My quiet response is punctuated by a knock on his dorm door—three raps.

“Give me a sec!” he calls out.

Swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, he tugs on a pair of black nylon shorts. He adjusts the waistband, and while his gaze is averted on this task, I allow myself to take in one final appreciative look because it’ll be the last time I’ll be this close to the sexy baseball player.

I’m certain he’ll go pro after graduation and move on to bigger and better things. Supermodels, mansions, money out the wazoo—you name it. But right now, my eyes travel appreciatively over his muscled pectorals, nipples I’ve nibbled on many times, and the curving Chinese script tattoo that trails down the center of his abs to end just above his cock. My tongue has enjoyed tracing that tattoo…

“Sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

My eyes snap up to find him watching me with a knowing look. Damn. Caught. And that smirk, those full lips have devoured me, have eaten me out to the point where I’ve had to muffle my screams with his pillow.

Yeah, I’d love to reconsider, but my brain wins this struggle, thank God. Because I know he’s thinking I’d wear his jersey at games or sit behind the dugout breastfeeding our newborn.

Gag.

I step up to him and quickly dust my lips against his cheek in a final kiss. Stepping away, I settle my palm on the firm wall of his chest, over his heart. He’s got a good one, and I know he’ll find someone who wants the same things he does.

It’s just not me.

With a small hint of a smile, I wink at him. “Later, Teegan.”

His eyes burn with an intensity I haven’t witnessed before, and his features are tinged with sadness. “Later, Ivy.”

I slip out of his dorm room, offer a quick nod to his teammate patiently waiting in the hall, and stride toward the stairwell.

I don’t look back, even though I feel the weight of his gaze on my retreating form. He’s waiting for me to have a moment of weakness. Waiting for me to turn around.

I never do.

* * *

The Cajuns often say, “Good lawd, chile!”

This job was enough to make me want to hit up one of the local fraternities and do keg stand after keg stand.

I should’ve known better than to take on a client who was trying to break up with a guy named Marty. A Marty who was also obsessed with Back to the Future movies.

I really need to increase my fee.

Finally—fi-na-lly—Marty walks away, happily ambling through campus to find his new leading lady.

Stephanie slips into the seat across from me at the coffee shop on the south end of campus, slumping in relief. “I didn’t think it was going to work there for a minute.”

“That’s the first mistake.” I tip my head and offer a consoling smile. “You always have to go into it with confidence. Don’t lose sight of that.”

“Thank you so much.” She breathes out a long sigh. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”

She’s right; there’s no way she could have extricated herself from that relationship with what she’d been doing. Stephanie had been going about it all wrong, but with my guidance, she’d managed to end things with Marty in a way that resulted in him practically thanking her for breaking up with him.

Semantics and some basic psychology principles. That’s all it is. When employed correctly, a breakup can be executed fluidly and with near flawless results.

“Please keep me in mind if you know any friends who might need the same help.” I slide my business card over to her.

She accepts it and quickly slips it into her wristlet. “I will. It was well worth the money.” Her smile is much freer and not forced, unlike how it was when we first met for the consultation.

“Take care, Stephanie.” I rise and push my chair in. “See you around campus.”

She follows suit and gives a tiny wave as she heads off toward her dorm. I, however, have already caught sight of someone sitting in the far corner. Four oversized leather chairs and small round side tables sit nearby for students who want something more comfortable than the hard, unforgiving metal straight-backed chairs at the dozen or so tables.

His eyes lift from the biochemistry book on his lap, and even from ten feet away, I feel the appreciation in his gaze. It travels down the spaghetti straps of my simple black cotton tank to the small strip of skin bared above the waistband of my low-rise cargo capris. The way he appraises me is unique, all-encompassing, and thorough. His eyes take in my toes, and his lips quirk upward at the sight of my neon-green polish, and the messy black polka dots I’d allowed a tipsy Darcy to paint on them. Leisurely, his gaze travels back up and locks with mine.

I stride over, and his eyes are alight with interest.

“I’m pretty well-versed in anatomy but not biochem, sadly.” It’s cheesy as hell, but I deliver this with a self-deprecating smile so he knows I’m teasing. “All I’ve got is”—I strike an exaggerated pose, bending my elbow and reaching a hand behind my head—“if I said, ‘Label me like all your French girls,’ would you find it humerus?”

He grins up at me and his eyes sparkle. “I definitely find it humorous.”

I have to put the finishing touches on my thesis, but it can wait another five minutes.

For the sake of science, of course.