Chapter 4: Ivy

A proposition of a sexual nature from the likes of Roan King...I accept! KingOfCampus.com

With my head bent forward, my caramel-colored hair falls over my face like a thick curtain, shielding it from view. Tapping my foot nervously, I wait until Mr. abs of steel swaggers his way up front to speak with the professor. As I'm about to make a break for it, he saunters back to his desk before picking up his backpack and strolling out the door like he has all the time in the world.

I have no idea how he was brought up to speed so quickly on what he missed. Regardless, I just want to put as much distance as I can between Roan King and myself. Once he's gone, my whole body deflates.

I think as time goes by, he'll forget about the whole iced-coffee-spilling-fiasco. Or, at the very least, he won't remember me specifically as the one who caused it. That's my hope. And I'm going to cling to it until proven wrong.

Other than the professor who is reading through some papers at the front of the classroom, I'm the last lingering student. He has to be gone by this point which means it's safe for me to finally get out of here. Gathering up my bag, I jog down the two flights of stairs, mentally running through my schedule for the rest of the day.

I have a French and dance class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I was lucky enough to snag a job at the local dance studio in town teaching ballet and tap to four and five year olds. The less money I have to grovel to my father for, the better off I'll be.

Plus, its dance which I live and breathe. So, teaching for about ten hours a week works out perfectly for me. It's only about a mile from the apartment which is totally walkable if I can't bum a ride from Lexie.

Lost in thought, I push through the double doors leading outside before walking down the wide cement stairs. As I do so, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes. Today is a bright and gorgeous August day. With autumn on its way, I know this kind of weather won't stick around forever. It needs to be soaked up and thoroughly enjoyed before the chill of September sets in.

"Hey, coffee girl!"

Since my name is most definitely not coffee girl, I don't bother glancing around. I keep on moving. Unfortunately, I forgot to pick up a supplemental reading guide, so I need to head back to the bookstore for-

"Hey, coffee girl!"

This time, the words are nearly shouted. People are craning their heads to see what's going on. I feel bad for whoever this poor coffee girl is. How embarrassing to be spoken to like that. She's probably some unfortunate barista who works at one of the coffee shops on campus. Seriously. Some people are so damn rude. Which is exactly why I turn glaring eyes on the A-hole shouting it.

Imagine my shock and dismay when I see freaking Roan King smirking at me as our gazes collide. Great. That's when it occurs to me that I'm the poor and unfortunate coffee girl. Unconsciously, because-damn it, he seems to have that god-awful effect on me-my feet grind to a halt and I can't help but stop and stare at him like some kind of idiotic fangirl.

Thankfully, I've gotten used to his dazzling good looks and don't feel completely gob smacked. Plus, he's once again wearing a shirt. No gorgeous chest to lose my mind over.

In my best haughty tone, I yell back, "Are you talking to me?"

The smile grows, which has me gnashing my teeth together painfully because that was so not the response I was going for. "Ah, she speaks."

This has my face coloring. "My name isn't coffee girl," I finally ground out.

Revealing bright white teeth, he leisurely pushes away from the brick wall he was leaning against. That's when I notice him turn toward the thick crowd surrounding him.

How did I not notice the huge group he's standing in the midst of? And it's not just girls who make up his fan club either, but guys as well. This dude definitely has the strangest effect on me. I don't like it at all. I'm not used to feeling so tongue-tied and awkward.

I'm really not.

I have no idea what he says to them. His lips move and then the crowd reluctantly disperses before he closes the distance that separates us. The way he carries his powerful body has all the saliva in my mouth instantly drying. He's so big and muscular. So unexpectedly graceful. I wish I didn't appreciate the beautiful lines of his sharply defined body, but I can't seem to help myself. As he jogs toward me, shards of inky colored hair fall over those brightly sparkling eyes. When he's about two feet away, he slows to a stop before flicking a chunk of hair out of the way.

The look he aims in my direction is so well-honed I nearly gasp.

Oh...this guy is completely dangerous. And he's clearly aware of the effect he has on the opposite sex.

That's for damn sure.

Thankfully, it's enough of a slap in the face to have me straightening my spine all the while trying to wrestle my traitorous hormones into submission. Which is no easy task when faced with...well...him.

His gaze holds mine for a long silent moment. It's almost as if his eyes are caressing mine. Which is completely ridiculous, I know. But still, that's exactly the way it feels. My heart stutters in response to all that sexiness packaged up so prettily in front of me.

He cocks his head as if waiting for me to give him an answer. God, I hope he hasn't asked a question and I've been too busy drooling to realize it.

"So what's your name if it's not coffee girl?"

I glance pointedly at the growing group of girls who are avidly watching our exchange before my gaze arrows back to his. For just a moment, I feel like Alice in Wonderland tumbling down the rabbit hole. My belly dips as if I'm truly falling.

How is that possible?

"Does it really matter?" Okay. Good. That came out cool enough to sound unaffected. Even though I am totally and unequivocally affected.

Following my gaze, another devastating smile slides its way across his handsome face before he shrugs those powerful shoulders basically telling me that-no, it really doesn't. Instead he steps closer, invading my personal space until my heart is slamming almost painfully against my chest.

Those beautiful eyes of his continue holding mine, ensnaring them. Like he's capable of some kind of crazy voodoo magic. "I have two hours to kill until my next class, why don't we head back to your place for a bit."

Head back to my place?

Two hours to kill?

Wait just a minute...

That sounds suspiciously like he's asking me to-

My spine stiffens so quickly, it's as if someone has rammed a massive pole up my ass.

I'm pretty sure my eyes flare open to the point of popping out of my head. "Are you suggesting we go back to my place for a few hours and have," I pause as my voice lowers, because there are, after all, about a dozen people watching our exchange, "sex?"

Those lovely bow-shaped lips lift into a knowing smile. "Yeah, babe, I am." Then his eyes meander down my body. I can all but feel them licking over every single inch of me. On their slow perusal back up to my face, they stop at my chest.

I think my nipples just tightened under the intense scrutiny of those turquoise-hued eyes. I'm seriously cursing myself for not bothering with a padded bra this morning. Instead, I'm wearing a sports bra because it's so damn comfortable.

Thankfully, he hasn't made any noises that would lead me to believe I have the dreaded headlight effect going on, so maybe it's not as bad as I'm imagining. There's certainly no way I can glance down and see for myself because that would only draw attention to my nips. Instead, I keep my gaze focused steadily on his face.

He tilts his head just a bit before admitting, "I usually like a girl with a little more going on upstairs, but you'll do."

Outrage slams through me, making me gasp.

I have never, and I do mean never, had anyone talk to me like this before.

With my nails digging into my clenched fists, I take a step closer to him. My narrowed eyes feel as if they're blazing fire, as if they could burn him alive with one single look. Unable to control myself, I stab a finger at his gorgeous, rock solid chest.

Gritting my teeth, I hiss, "I don't know who the fuck you think you are and quite frankly, I don't give a shit. But don't you ever talk to me like that again! You've apparently mistaken me for one of the groupies you're used to screwing anytime you please. Make no mistake, asshole, that's not me."

If he's at all surprised by my unexpected outburst, he doesn't say one damn word. Instead, his bright gaze holds mine, almost as if he's assessing me with a bit more interest.

My breath continues to come out in short choppy pants. Like I've just run a marathon. Still frothing at the mouth, I give him one last frosty glare that will hopefully shrivel his balls before stalking away.

The nerve of some people!

"See you around, coffee girl."

Even though I can't help the growl that escapes from my lips, I don't bother dignifying that last parting shot with a comment. Mr. abs of steel can go screw himself for all I care.