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“I am, and I have a tendency of being stupid.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Like now, I’m aching for a girl who doesn’t want anything to do with me. One who thinks I’m a pretty boy, and yet, I want to do everything to prove her wrong, when I really don’t have to. I have nothing to prove. I am who I am.”
I nod supportively. “Plus, you’d be wasting your time.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
Heat rushes through me as he pins me with a look that tells me he won’t stop. While it excites me, it scares the living shit out of me. Swallowing hard, I clear my throat. “Are you done with my legs?”
“Nowhere near done, but you’re cleaned up.”
My breath catches. “So, I’ll go.”
“If you want.”
I shoot him a quizzical look. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I do, but I’d never ask you to leave.”
I just blink. What in the hell am I supposed to say to that? One thing is for sure, I gotta get out of here. I point to the door. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go.”
“Okay.”
As I stand, he doesn’t give me much room. His body is so large, inches from mine, leaving me to shimmy to the left to get away from him. In doing so, though, my hand comes in contact with his coffee, since I am too busy trying not to touch him. Thankfully, I don’t knock it over. I catch it instead and push it back some on the table before nodding down to it. “You shouldn’t drink that before practice.”
“No?”
“It won’t sit well on your stomach.”
“Worried about my stomach?”
Damn it. My eyes go right to his stomach, or better yet, his abs, before darting back up to his eyes. “Not at all.”
His lips curve at the sides, and as he blinks, his lashes caress his cheeks in a very dark and sexy way that has my own gut feeling as if I’ve drunk six coffees and thought it would be a great idea to do a few bar routines. “I beg to differ.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” I say offhandedly, trying hard not to be affected by this man, but I am failing so miserably.
He licks his lips, his eyes so devilishly hot that I am finding it very hard to think. “You want it.”
My eyes widen as panic fills me from head to toe. Is he offering himself to me? No! Run! Ah! My voice is high as I ask, “What?”
He smiles wider. “The coffee.” His gruff chuckle runs down my spine as I gawk up at him, feeling stupid as all hell. “What did you think I meant?”
I snatch the coffee up. “Nothing. Of course, you were talking about the coffee.” I take a long swig, and I may be a bit annoyed that it’s my favorite drink from Starbucks. An almond milk cinnamon macchiato.
When a soft moan leaves my lips, his grin grows. “You like it?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Mine too.”
Leave, Sofia. Leave.
The heated gazes we share have everything inside of me boiling. I know if I don’t leave, this coffee will hit the ground and my back will be on this table. “Okay, well, thanks for helping me out and the coffee—”
“Maybe we can get a cup this afternoon after classes. Around three?”
My grip on the coffee tightens. “I have practice.”
“Oh, then after,” he says, not the least bit derailed. “I can meet you at the gym, and we can—”
“No.”
He narrows his eyes a bit. “No?”
I shake my head as my heart pounds harder than ever. “Yeah, no.”
Silence surrounds us as I gaze up into his exquisite eyes. I can tell he doesn’t get told no often, and I don’t know why that sends one hell of a jolt of excitement through me.
“Can I ask why? I thought we moved past the pretty boy thing.”
“We did,” I answer before swallowing hard. “But I don’t date, and from what I hear, neither do you.”
“Where did you hear that from?”
“Your sister.”
Anger flashes in his blue depths. Some might think it was scary, but I think it’s hot, which only further supports my decision to turn him down. “Of course she did.”
“Yeah, not that it matters. Since both of us don’t date, and getting coffee means dating.”
“Or getting to know each other.”
“Which leads to dating.”
“Or sex.”
My gut tightens. “And I don’t have time for either,” I say simply, yet his grin doesn’t flatten.
“We’ll see about that.”
The challenge in his eyes turns me on like no other. My whole body is singing for him, but I have to mute that crazy bitch. She’ll get me in loads of trouble. “Probably not.”
“No, we will,” he calls back to me as I head to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Sofia Castilleja.”
I hesitate for an instant because he pronounced my last name perfectly. To me, that means he asked his sister how to say it since no one says my name right. “Probably not as soon as you’d like, Ryan Justice.”
As I go through the door, he calls, “You have no idea.”
And my vagina, yeah, it promptly blows up. Which is good. Maybe it will leave me alone and stop lusting after Ryan. But that leaves my brain, and all it’s doing is saying: Ryan, Ryan, abs, Ryan, shoulders, abs, Ryan, short shorts, sweaty shoulders. Throw your damn V-card in his face and go to bed right now.
Over and over again.
Yup, I’m screwed.
