Oh, just that you would like to have some good sex, just once in your life, and God’s gift to women here has a reputation a mile long.
“Are you going to be this annoying all semester?” I ask.
“Probably.”
“Lucky me.”
“That is entirely up to you,” he says and when I hear what almost sounds like want in his voice, my gaze flies to his. The corners of his mouth twitch. What exactly is he saying to me? That getting lucky—with him—is up to me. Yeah, okay, I’m clearly still concussed. Or not.
We climb my front steps and he when opens the door, I turn to him. “So are you going to tell me what I need to do?”
“I’m thinking on it.”
“I am not taking money that isn’t earned.”
He steps closer, crowding me, and my pulse jumps in my neck. His gaze drops like he can see the steady throb in my neck and he wets his mouth. Does he want to kiss me or something? God, there I go with the ‘something’ again.
“How about I text you later, with a list.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be waiting for that.” He holds his hand out, and I stare at it. “Phone.”
“What for?”
“Do you always have to question everything?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know. I want your phone so I can put my contact information in.”
I nod and fish it from my pocket. His hand touches mine, his skin warm and rough against my wrist, and once again my mind wanders. What would his hand feel like on my naked body? I clear my throat, and his lids lift, those mesmerizing blue eyes full of curiosity.
“Something the matter?” he asks.
“No.”
I stare at his big hands as he puts information into my phone. A second later, his pings. We stand there staring at each other for an awkward moment. For some unknown reason, I can’t seem to step away. He’s like a big magnet, and I’m a scrap of metal drawn by his force.
He breaks the quiet. “See you later, Maize.”
The slow sexy way he says my name sends tingles down my spine and I resist the urge to say, not if I see you first, because I will be seeing him. “Bye, Christian.”
I step into the house and shut the door. I press my forehead against it, and put my hand on the wood, sensing he’s still standing there. Pull yourself together, girl. I shake my head, push off the door, and hobble up the stairs. I head down the hall, and there’s no tiptoeing and trying not to wake Kaitlyn when my boot makes more noise than a pirate with a peg leg. I have no idea why that makes me chuckle, madly, like a woman who escaped an asylum. Maybe it’s my way of letting the stress of the night go.
Did I really go to an auction and sell myself to Christian Moore?
Yeah, I sure did, and I wish to hell I regretted it more than I actually do. Ugh.
Kaitlyn’s door opens and she looks at me like I might have grown a second head as I try to stifle my laughter. “I guess tonight went well, then?”
I sober quickly. “It was horrible.”
Her gaze goes up and down the length of me and she grins. “Maybe I should have stayed and watched.”
She walked me to the frat house, but left after I entered. “It went fast, and so much for Christian not bidding.”
Her mouth falls open, and she grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re Christian’s?”
“I’m not his,” I snap, but yeah, I kind of am. Bought and paid for. “He’s my benefactor, and I will do things for him to earn the money.”
“Oh, what kind of things?” she asks with a wag of her eyebrow.
“Sex isn’t on the table, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Her head angles, her gaze moving over my face. “What?”
“You sound disappointed about that.”
“I’m not a prostitute, and I do not sound disappointed. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and going up on that stage was beyond stressful.”
Maybe I should have stayed, let Christian massage my tight muscles.
“Well now you’re a sugar baby, a kept woman.” She frowns. “I wish I’d gotten a card. It’s kind of a sweet deal.”
My jaw drops open. “You can’t be serious.”
“As serious as a damn ankle injury, Maize.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and get a football to the head.”
She laughs, and covers her mouth, not wanting to wake our roommates. “Get some sleep,” I tell her.
I hobble to the bathroom, get ready for bed, and then walk to my room. I tug on a night shirt, crawl into bed, and pull the covers up. Even though I’m exhausted, I’m too keyed up to fall asleep. I grab my cell, and a wave of disappointment curls through me when I don’t find a message from Christian. I toss it aside, but as soon as I do, it pings. I snatch it up far too quickly, and try to calm my racing heart as I read the text from Christian.
How are your culinary skills?
I run my fingers over the words as a goofy smile crosses my lips as I text back. “I’m a pretty good cook.”
Breakfast tomorrow?
I guess I can make you breakfast. My place or yours?
Mine.
Would this be breakfast in bed?
Dammit, why oh, why did I have to bring up his bed?
Yes.
I drop my phone like it’s on fire, and peek at it over the covers.
Nine okay?
I snatch my phone and text back. That’s not much of a list.
Still working on it. I’ll have it ready in the morning.
I let him know nine is fine and I wait to see if he’s going to respond and when no message comes through, a ridiculous sound catches in my throat. I close my eyes, and toss restlessly. I’m sure my body has never been so alive. God, when I walked onto that stage tonight, and heard Christian bid on me, although at the time, I had no idea it was him, I
