Page 3

“Dave, ” I oddly corrected her. I never minded anyone calling me by my last name or my nickname of Fergie, but with her it was different. I wanted her to call me Dave.

Or Daddy, if she was in the mood.

This was a side of me I wasn’t familiar with at all. I liked control of my life because of how I’d grown up, but I’d never had a daddy kink. Not until I saw her at a Lamda party and she’d smiled at me from afar.

“Dave,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have to get to work. What do you want, so we don’t have to call your fancy insurance?”

“Hmm.” Again, I pretended to think long and hard, as if I didn’t have her exactly where I wanted her. “Give me your phone.” The tone in my voice didn’t leave much room for argument.

“What for?” Of course, she would, though.

“Give. Me. Your. Phone,” I repeated myself, something I never did with women. She sighed, looking frustrated and annoyed with me. My lips twitched. I liked that look on her.

There had to be something really fucked up in my head to get turned on by how damn pissy she was. Roxie turned, and I followed close to make sure she didn’t try something stupid like make a run for it. Sure, that’s why! I thought to myself. Nothing to do with the fact that staying away from her was as hard as breathing through mud. Or that I wanted to get a glimpse of those little panties again she had on underneath.

That’s when my steps faltered and my eyes followed the line of her sweet little body reaching her car door and bending forward. God almighty. My eyes dipped lower and my body came roaring to life. There was no holding back the ever-growing ache in my balls.

Not when she accidentally flashed me those cute little boy shorts. Her skirt flipped in the breeze, giving me a great view of the exposed perky cheeks. The whole thing lasted no more than two seconds, but it would be seared into my memory in a way I knew I would remember it for the rest of my life. She straightened, and I blinked trying to get myself under control as she fished for her phone in her purse.

“Here.” She shoved the phone into my hand, which I swore was almost as old as her damn car. If she noticed me checking her out or the hard-on currently bulging behind my shorts, she didn’t give me a damn clue.

I took her phone and typed in my number, saving my information in her contacts with a grin before pressing Call. My phone rang in my pocket, but I ended the call.

“Now not only do you have my number, I have yours,” I said. She took an audible deep breath.

“Goodie,” she replied sarcastically. Fuck, she is adorable. No filter, no shits about letting me have it. Which was like a breath of fresh air compared to all the girls who ever approached me who only fawned around me.

“Now, what do you want?” she asked again. I could tell behind the sass and attitude, worry was starting to creep in.

“For now? All I want is for you to drive safe,” I said, then, because I was an asshole, I added, “No rear-ending anyone else.”

“What?” She tossed her purse into the front seat of her car. I looked at her one last time before forcing my body, which wanted nothing more than for my feet to be nailed down to the ground in front of her, to walk away.

“I’ll be in touch.” She called out some colorful words, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d do something crazy like toss her over my shoulder and hide her in my dorm.

Which wouldn’t be a great idea, seeing as her cousin was my god damn roommate.

Was I in over my head? Hell, yeah.

Was I going to take it back and stop the plan of what I had in store for my sexy little brat? Hell, no.

ONE

ROXANNE ‘ROXIE’ MARQUEZ

Iparked and looked out at the two-story building. The lights weren’t on downstairs, but there was one bright and waiting on the second floor.

“How do you get yourself in these situations, Rox?” I muttered under my breath before grabbing my bag and slipping out of my car, slamming the door. Not because I was angry or anything, but because it was so old that if I didn’t, it wouldn’t shut right.

Before taking a second step, the door that led to the upstairs floor from the back of the building opened. And there he was. Standing tall, all six foot three of him, leaning against the doorway, half hidden in the shadows. I wasn’t sure how I managed not to jump at the sight of him.

Dave, or Fergie, like everyone on campus liked to call him, was stupidly good looking.

And tonight, it was almost unfair how good he looked. I tried, and failed, not to stare. But to be fair, he would make any red-blooded woman, and some men, a little weak in the knees. It wasn’t just his athletic build from a lifetime of playing baseball or working out. Or the way his biceps bunched beneath the sleeves of his fitted tee that seemed to stretch over his shoulders like it was its job to defy every single law of physics. He was actually handsome. In a rugged, semi-classical almost aristocratical way. He had dark brown eyes that felt like they saw a little too much and didn’t miss a thing. Full sensuous lips, the top just a little fuller than the bottom with the perfect bow in the center that made you curious about what it would feel like to trace it with the tips of your fingers. Or tongue. His bone structure was ridiculous, too. Great cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, with a cleft in the center of his chin.

I hated how much I liked that little butt chin of his.

“You’re late,” he muttered. The way he held his body against the doorway would seem bored to anyone who looked at him, but there was a darkness, a dominance in the way he looked at me, like he wanted to eat me whole, that made me nervous and excited all at the same time. Not that he had laid a hand on me these last two months since the accident.