At this, I mentally berate myself.
I’m so not one of those girls. A guy’s good looks have never left me a gooey puddle of idiotic hormones. Well, with the exception of right now. But either way, Christ, my traitor body does a flip-flop as I take in the whole length of him.
This guy’s a beast, standing a good foot taller than my five-foot-three frame. I feel like a speck—a tiny, little speck. To make matters worse, while I thought his lickable tattoos only graced his arms, I find I’m so very wrong. On the right side of his neck, peeking up from his plain black T-shirt, are the delicious horns of what appears to be the devil himself.
I was right. It’s an omen. He’s the devil, and I’m in a heavenish hell.
In an attempt to yank myself from my absurd reaction to him, I decide now is the perfect time to pick up my belongings and get the hell out of . . . well, get the hell out of hell.
“So, what time should I pick you up tonight?” he asks as I drop to my knees and reach for my English Lit book. “I’m thinking somewhere around seven. Go home and take a nap. You’ll need your energy. I’m definitely keeping you up late.”
I glare at him, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. I’m no stranger to one-night stands, and usually a guy this arrogant would have me on my back in a nanosecond, but for some strange reason, one I may never understand, all this one’s doing is pissing me off. “Are you for real?”
A smirk hits his face. “When I looked in the mirror this morning, I was as real as they come.”
He kneels and hands me my sociology book. I yank it from his grip. Great. Another smirk that has my resolve coming close to taking a hike.
We both rise, and amusement once again flashes in his eyes. His unfairly gorgeous face is way too close to mine. Close enough that I can feel his minty breath feathering over my cheek.
“Were you born conceited or did you just morph into an asshole over time?”
He cups his chin, his brows dipped in mock thought. “I think I was born this way, but I could be wrong. You’d have to ask my mother about that if ya want the honest story behind how I turned out this way.” He smiles, clearly getting off on my reaction to his straightforwardness. “Any more questions for me? I’m finding your curiosity cute as all hell.”
I snort, amazed that I’m still a willing participant in this conversation. “Figures. Honestly, I don’t give a shit that you find anything I do cute.” I pause, tilting my head. “Thanks for catching me, but seriously, can you just go away?”
Laughter riots from his chest. “Whoa, killer, I’m simply trying to lend you my services. And what’s happening between us is sexual tension at its finest. It’s good—healthier than a cold glass of milk. Just go with it.”
Oh. My. God. This is getting worse by the minute.
“Services? Do you take pride in being a male whore? Oh, wait.” I bounce my palm against my forehead, feigning stupidity. “How could you not? You have a dick that shoots orgasmic flames into a girl. Am I right?”
Laughter sounds from the group around the table as he smirks again, this one cockier than its predecessor. “Yeah. You’re definitely in need of my . . . services. A good lay will brighten your pretty little ass right up.” He tosses me a wink, offering me his hand. “Oh, I’m Ryder Ashcroft, by the way.”
Exasperated, I don’t take Ryder Ashcroft’s hand. Nope. The only thing I take is an unsteady breath right before I smack him clear across his pretty face, the pain searing my hand worth every bit as I watch Pretty Boy’s eyes go wide. An atom bomb of laughter explodes from all directions, adding to my absolute enjoyment of the payback’s-a-bitch moment.
I barely have time to catalogue the look on Ryder’s face when I hear him mumble, “Fuck. That was brilliant,” half a heartbeat before his mouth is devouring mine.
Stunned, I gasp, my traitor lips parting as his sinfully delicious kiss absorbs the uninvited moan that jumps from my throat.
Some douche yells, “Go for it, dude!”
A girl squeaks, “He’s officially lost his mind!”
I also catch several whistling catcalls.
A split second before I slam my hands against Ryder’s chest, I feel his soft tongue—which I now know has a piercing in it, a barbell to be exact—languidly caress over mine. Oh Jesus. It sends a full, down-to-the-bone shiver up my spine. I unclog my brain from its temporary high and push Ryder back a few feet, leaving us both panting.
His eyes, intense with lust and shock, darken and lock on mine, another one of his infamous smirks twitching the corners of his lips as he studies me.
With a huff and a flip of the bird in his direction, I swipe the back of my hand across my lips, gather the rest of my books, and head toward the stupid table I’d originally tried to sit at before I’d fallen into his lap. As soon as I take my first step, I feel a large hand touch my shoulder. With every intention of knocking homeboy out, I spin around, my gaze snagging wide green eyes that do not belong to the previous offender.
What the? Is every male in this building on growth hormones? This guy’s just as big as Ryder Ass-Croft, if not bigger.
Hands held up in surrender, my schedule in their possession, he flashes me a cautious yet impish smile. “You forgot this.” He places the paper on top of my books, and throws his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to Ryder. “Don’t mind him.”
“Don’t mind him?” I parrot, flicking my eyes in Ryder’s direction, who’s now sitting at his rowdy table.
Blondie, who seemed annoyed earlier, is in his lap, consoling him, her arm wrapped around his neck as she whispers some shit in his ear. Ryder glances at me, a megawatt smile splitting his conceited lips.