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He shrugs, but there’s something in his eyes—a dark vulnerability that slices right through me. “Maybe…I see something in you. A strength in your resistance. A resilience. A rare intelligence…. And…” He moves a hand to touch my bottom lip still swollen from his fierce possession. “The most gorgeous set of lips I’ve ever tasted.”
His words are like a narcotic, lulling me into a dreamy haze, filling my blood and soothing every doubt I’ve ever had about myself. I’m practically carried away by it. He’s wooing me—and wooing hard. But for what?
He wants my body. He wants to get inside me. Inside my body—and maybe, too, inside my head.
“No.” I whisper. With every bit of resistance I can muster, it’s the only thing I can bring myself to say. Because right now, my entire body is shouting yes, yes, yes!
But he only smiles that same cocky smile. “I love a good challenge, Madeline. You’ll definitely give it to me.”
I blink at his response, which strikes me like a slap on the face. I suddenly understand. It’s not me he wants. It’s the thrill of the chase. I’ve seen his type before—most notably in my own father. All that matters is the hunt. My father took several mistresses while he was still married to my mom—and it had damn near destroyed her. There’s no way I’d ever do that to someone else.
Suddenly I hold my arm out, straightening it. With my hand I push firmly against his hard chest. “I’m not for sale, Mr. Kohl,” I say tightly. “And your five minutes were up five minutes ago.”
Just as I turn to walk through the gate, he reaches out and grabs my wrist, stopping me. Like before, his touch practically burns me. My heart thuds violently in my chest as I turn back around to face him.
His eyes are hard and laser-focused on me. “I’ll tell you this only once, Madeline. I’m not a man who gives up easily.” And I can tell from the determination in those azure eyes—the way they bore into me. The way they already presume to claim me. I know that I haven’t seen the last of Evan Kohl.
Chapter 7
A God on Campus
“What happened? Don’t leave anything out. Tell me everything.” Sam claps her hands together, the words rushing out in an excited high-pitched stream. “Does he want to whisk you away to one of his mansions in the Caribbean?”
I walk behind the counter and pull on my red apron. “Nothing happened,” I lie. “He just wanted to apologize for the other day, that’s all.”
“Right.” Sam places a hand on her hip and fixes me with a you-don’t-think-I’m-going-to-believe-that stare. “A sexy gazillionare took time out of his busy schedule to come down here and say he was sorry. No fucking way. He wants you. I know sexual frustration when I see it.”
He definitely wants me, but that isn’t what unnerves me. It’s my own response to him—that raw, clawing desire—that shakes me to my very core. Never before have I felt such a powerful connection to anyone—not even Jason. Though I’ll never admit it to anyone else, I’m afraid of what that might mean.
I shrug, trying my best to appear nonchalant. “Maybe he just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to sue him or something. I don’t know. Can we just drop it?”
“Sure, Maddy-bear.” She winks at me. “But you’ll spill eventually—even if I have to get you drunk to do it.”
Unsteadily I turn from her and try to get the smell and feel of Evan Kohl out of my memory. That shaky feeling in my legs is still there even hours after he has left. And when I lay in bed that night—all I can think about his touch, his kiss, the thrill of his nearness. And how much those feelings make me want to touch myself. And I’m tempted—so tempted—to get myself off while fantasizing about him, but somewhere behind all that desire is cold fear. I’m afraid of what it will do. I’m afraid it will give him power over me.
Even more power than he’s already starting to have.
It takes me hours to finally fall asleep.
For two days, I try to forget about Evan Kohl. Much easier said than done, unfortunately. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there—that sexy, enigmatic smile and those blue, blue eyes.
I’m sitting in a lecture when my phone dings, indicating I’ve received an email. I check quickly and almost choke when I see the name in the from field.
Kohl.
Of course. He’d warned me he didn’t give up easily, hadn’t he?
How did he even get my email address? Then I remember—I gave him all my contact information on the “assistant” application at the interview. I blow out a breath, and open the email, studiously ignoring my professor, who’s now explaining a complicated equation on the whiteboard—an equation that will be on the finals. But curiosity burns at me, and before I can resist, I open the email.
From: Kohl, Evan
To: Swanson, Madeline
Subject: Negotiations
Madeline,
Think of this as a jumping-off point for negotiations.
