“Okay, so you’re stuck alone on a deserted island,” he continues, “and you can only have two things other than water. What are they?”
“That’s easy. Twizzlers and my journal,” I answer, wishing I had both right now. Mainly the Twizzlers. They’re one of my many crutches. My nervous, go-to addiction. Any flavor—the almighty Twizzler owns me.
“Twizzlers?” He looks at me like I’m the worst kind of crazy. “The squiggly licorice candy? Out of anything in the world, that’s what you’d go with?”
“You’re quick,” I smart back, shooting him my best amused expression. “Very quick, Cunningham.”
A hint of inner debate settles across his face, but soon confidence replaces it. “Well, since we’re two quick young adults, and we’re both in mutual agreement that Ryder’s the asshole of the goddamn universe, I’m wondering how soon I can get you to go out on a date with me?”
“You have to work harder for an actual date.” Though my words come out with conviction, even I can hear the doubt behind them. My conscience is bugging, asking what the hell’s wrong with me. “Again, it’s going to take work on your part.”
Brock nods, extending his hand to me. After a beat, I take it, not sure where he’s going with this.
Eyes on mine, he gently circles his thumb over my knuckles. “I’m gonna work my ass off to get you to go out on a date with me. But I’m warning you now, no matter what I have to do, I will get into your beautiful head, Amber-Ber.” He cracks a smile. “More than I already have. You’ll see.”
Before I can blink, he brings my hand to his lips and plants a soft kiss on it. I shiver in the best way possible, his light stubble causing my flesh to pop with goose bumps. He smiles, but without another word, he rises and walks clear across the dining hall and out the doors.
With my pulse knocking around like a Ping-Pong ball, I’m left not only speechless but wondering if Brock Cunningham can do what no one else has ever managed.
Slide past every defense I’ve created.
CHAPTER 2
Amber
“YOU NEED INTRO to Biology, Miss Moretti,” the woman in the registrar’s office informs me.
“I didn’t think I needed that class,” I say, frustration knotting my chest. “If I have to take it, it’ll put me behind a whole semester.”
“Your academic program calls for it. I’m not sure what else to tell you.” She shoves her glasses up the thin bridge of her nose, eyeing the impatient, growing line of students behind me. “Make an appointment with an academic advisor if need be, but there’s nothing more I can do for you.”
Beyond annoyed, I hitch my satchel over my shoulder and turn, running headlong into the god of arrogance himself.
Ryder Ashcroft.
Though I’m struck stupid by the sharp planes of his face, the hint of stubble dusting his jaw, and the smirk he’s wearing, I roll my eyes toward the heavens and attempt to brush past him. When I do, he moves in tandem with me, blocking my path. A second attempt at an exit on my part, followed by a second blocking on his, and I feel myself starting to fume.
“Seriously, Ryder? What’s your problem?”
“You’re my problem.” His smirk pulls higher. “It’s been a few days since we’ve seen each other. Did ya miss me?”
“No,” I say in all honesty. Can I deny that the last forty-eight hours consisted of me repeatedly hitting the replay button on our kiss, or that I have a gnawing urge to tunnel my fingers through his thick, dark hair? Nope. I can’t deny any of that. But still, I haven’t missed him.
“You’re lying,” he says, finally letting me past him.
“And you’re annoying.”
He follows me out of the office and down the crowded hall. “I may be, but you’re gorgeous and annoying. That’s one helluva lethal blend.”
I stop and spin on him, my eyes saucers. “I’m annoying?”
“Yeah. You fucking drive me crazy.” He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Nuts out of my mind.”
I blink, completely taken aback. “I drive you crazy? How is that even possible?”
He grins and steps closer, his chest nearly pressed to mine. I draw in a sharp breath, my pulse thudding as I try to ignore the bolt of energy between us.
“It’s very possible, and there you go again with your cute questions.” He reaches for a strand of my hair, leans down, and sniffs it before whispering, “Mm. Raspberry.”
“Wh . . . what?” I stammer. Lost to the sound of blood speeding through my veins, the buzz of the loud conversations throughout the hall goes mute.
“Your shampoo.” He twirls my hair between his fingers, and steps back, his gaze slowly moving over me. “It smells like raspberries. I like it. It’s just a little piece of you that drives me nuts. Never mind your pissed-off pouty lips or badass sexy attitude. I won’t go into what either of those things do to me, but I’m sure ya have an idea. You were sitting in my lap the other day. I’m positive you . . . felt what that did to me.”
There’s no doubt my body reacts to him in disturbing yet delicious stages. My heart comes close to stopping, arrested by the sound of his deep, raspy voice. Then my breathing picks up from the heated look in his translucent blue eyes. And last, but certainly not least, my head shits visions of animalistic, sheet-clawing fucking as he runs his pierced tongue over his lips.
“Did you say something?” I ask, honestly trying to remember.