But this time when Weston and his catch went upstairs, he didn’t shut the door tightly behind him. From across the room, my eyes focused in on the latch bolt sticking out from the doorframe, and something came over me. Something unexplainable. Because one minute I was standing against the wall like always and the next I was creeping in the shadows up the dark staircase to the top floor of The Keep.
The stairs were quiet and empty, and at the landing, I paused. The lights were off everywhere on the top floor, and it took a moment for my eyes to focus. There seemed to be a bathroom straight in front of me. To my right was a hallway, to my left was a bedroom with a door slightly ajar. Giggles drifted from the bedroom, and I tiptoed in that direction, cursing at myself every step of the way. What the fuck was I even doing? Was I planning to spy while Weston banged some other girl? Did I want him to suddenly notice me at the door and invite me in instead? Did I want him to invite me to join?
Yeah, this was messed up.
I nearly turned around.
I should have turned around.
But then Nicorette inhaled sharply and I had to know. Had to see.
I crept closer, peeked inside and nearly jumped when I saw the couple directly in front of me in a lip-locked frenzy. Then I realized that I was actually looking at a reflection in a wall-sized mirror. They were on the other side of the bed and the moon was shining in through the window illuminating the display.
And, oh my god, was it hot.
The redhead had already lost her shirt and her bra, and Weston was bent over her, suckling on one breast, kissing her pointed nipple while squeezing her other breast.
Nikita threw her head back and moaned. Unconsciously, I plumped my own breast over my sweater, and nearly gasped when I found my nipple sensitive and erect. I had to bite my lip to keep from making any noise. Had to cross my ankles to ease the throbbing between my legs.
I watched as Weston peeled off his shirt, the angle giving me a view of his beautiful, muscular back. He was on the rowing team. Of course. So preppy. So rich boy. But those muscles… God bless the rowing team.
And now he was undoing his jeans. And she was drawing out his cock. I could feel my eyes widen, trying to get a better look at his dick. I dared to lean in a little farther. Still, all I could make out was a dark shadow in the grip of the redhead’s little palm as she stroked him up and down.
“Yeah, Nicky, just like that.” The low rumble in Weston’s voice made my knees buckle. I could just hear him over the thump-thump of the bass drifting up from downstairs.
“It’s Nichelle,” she corrected. Right! That’s what it was.
“Yeah, Nichelle.” He pulled her head back up so he could devour her mouth. He kissed her for a few minutes, greedily, before pulling away and heading out of the reflection—toward me.
I cowered in the corner where the hinge met the frame, certain I was about to be discovered. But all Weston did was shut the door.
I leaned my back against the closed door and let out a deep breath.
Because what the actual fuck?
I could have gotten caught. I could have gotten kicked out of The Keep forever. I could have lost any respect Weston might have ever had for me before even earning it.
And why the hell was I so into this guy anyway? I didn’t even know him! I needed to get my head in the right place. Needed to remember why my father put in all those years with the furniture store and why my mother’s life insurance money was saved and put away. It was so I could go to the school of my dreams. Not so that I could spend all my time daydreaming over a pretty-faced playboy.
But what a pretty face he had.
God, I was in trouble.
“He’s never going to go for you,” a voice came out of the dark in front of me. “Not while you’re a virgin.”
I squinted, and when I looked closer, I saw there was another bedroom at the end of the hall with the door wide open, and though I couldn’t quite make out the figure, I could see there was someone sitting in an armchair, smoking a cigarette. Or a cigar maybe.
I took a step forward. Surely he wasn’t talking to me, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. “Excuse me?”
“Weston never goes for virgins. It’s one of his rules.”
Heat rushed up my neck and flooded my cheeks. “Uh…”
“You’re offended.”
“Yes. I’m offended.” And embarrassed. How long had this guy been watching me? It was pretty safe to assume that he’d seen me spying on Weston. Which was just…mortifying. Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see my face.
“Care to explain?”
I took another step forward. Then several more. Steps I should have taken down the stairs while I was still an anonymous girl in the dark.
But there was something about being watched privately by someone else that made me feel a kinship that I hadn’t felt before. All that time I’d spent watching Weston, it was as though I’d been carrying a secret. And the first person to discover it had found it out by secretly watching me.
Or maybe that was just an excuse and I was just lonely. Or drunk. Or stupid.
“Well.” I paused at the doorway of his room. “A of all, you can’t possibly know what your roommate is and isn’t into. And B of all, the status of my virginity is not something you can just presume.”
He took a puff of his cigar—not a cigarette, it turned out—and the smoke filled the room with a sweet woody scent that reminded me of fireplaces and old libraries. “I beg to disagree. To both.”
I huffed audibly. Because what else could I say to something as cocky as that?
Actually, plenty.
I threw my shoulders back, ready to go off when he went on first. “Look. I’ve known Weston since he was in diapers. I know him better than his mother does, I know him better than that girl who’s in there currently sucking his dick, and I certainly know him better than you do.”
He did know Weston well, I realized. I knew this guy, too. He was the T.A. for my ethics class. I hadn’t recognized him at first, but now I did. He was Donovan Kincaid, son of Weston’s father’s business partner. I hadn’t known he lived here. I’d never seen him at any of The Keep’s parties before.
My hands started sweating and my pulse picked up a notch.
Donovan was several years older than us and was currently getting his MBA. He was a legend around campus because he was brilliant and ruthless. His business ideas were not only smart but also cutting edge. He was the sort of man who was going to rule the world. Tall, attractive, tough, powerful, strong. Perceptive. He intimidated me in general.
Right now? He scared the shit out of me.
“As for your virginity,” he went on, “you wear it like a badge.”
“I do not.” I really kind of did. Right now, I was at a college party wearing a shapeless sweater and jeans. My hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. My shoes were Doc Martens that my roommate said had gone out of style a decade ago. It wasn’t that I tried to be dumpy looking. I just liked to be comfortable. And as the older sister without a mother around, I’d never really had anyone teach me how to be a girl.
“There really is no reason to be offended,” Donovan said, taking a sip from a glass. Whiskey, I was guessing. Something told me it wasn’t his first glass of the night. “I’m not criticizing. In fact, I’m offering to help.”
It took me a second to understand just what he meant. “Oh, please.”
“I’m not kidding. Shall we discuss the pros and cons?”
I cocked my head and studied him, as if I could study him in the dark. Was he seriously offering to sleep with me? He obviously had no idea who I was.
“I, uh, don’t think so.” I tugged on the end of my ponytail, a nervous habit of mine. “I’m sure it’s because there’s no light in here or because there’s so many of us in there, but I’m in your Intro to Business Ethics class. I’m your student.”
He stretched to his side and yanked a chain, turning on a lamp next to him. I blin
ked several times in the newly lit bedroom. He wore a simple black sweater and jeans. His feet were bare. His unruly hair had more red in it in the dim light, his green eyes had more flecks of brown. It made him look more rugged than usual. More intense. His jawline added to the effect. It was lined with scruff, as if he hadn’t shaved since class yesterday morning, and, though I’d never had such an impulse before, I found myself wanting to run my hand across the fuzz. Wanted to know exactly what it felt like under my skin. Was it soft? Did it scratch? Who was the last woman to run her hand across his jaw? Did he love her?
“I know who you are, Sabrina Lind.” Donovan’s declaration shocked me back to the here and now. “Ninety-seven point three average. You’re here on a scholarship, so that matters. Never missed a day of class. Always sit in the front on the right side. Chad Lee cheats off your quizzes, but you don’t know that. Your essays are on the detailed side but are creative, and I respect that. I appreciated your response to the unfair firing of Peter Oiler at Winn-Dixie Stores, but your perspective on Ford’s decision not to modify the early versions of the Pinto was short-sighted.”
My jaw dropped. There was too much to react to. I chose the easiest to respond to first. “Ford’s decision killed people.”
“It made the company money. It’s called utilitarianism.” Even as he was heartless, his voice was smooth, like the fine scotch that I imagined lingered on his tongue.
I wondered briefly what it would taste like against my own tongue.
Just as quickly, I forced the thought out of my mind. “And I thought the class was called business ethics.” The case he referred to had bothered me a lot. In 1970, Ford had discovered a major error with the Pinto that would likely cause several hundred deaths and injuries. Instead of fixing it however, their cost-benefit analysis determined it would be cheaper to settle the presumed lawsuits. So they didn’t make the modifications.
“I think I’ve taught that ethics have to be personally defined.” Donovan sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee. He searched my face before taking another puff of his cigar. “The offer still stands.”
“What offer?” I blinked once before realizing which offer he meant. “Did you miss the part where you’re my teacher?” And why was I still standing here talking to the guy? I should have left by now. But I was glued in place, as fascinated with this discussion as I’d ever been with Weston King.
“I’m not actually your teacher. I’m the teacher’s assistant.” This was technically true. Mr. Velasquez officially taught the Monday, Wednesday, Friday class. But he only taught half of the time, and even when he did teach, Donovan still sat at his corner desk and graded papers or read or did whatever it was that he did while the rest of us listened to the lecture.
Apparently one of the things he did was watch us.
Or did he just watch me?
A string of goose bumps popped up along my skin at the thought. I hugged myself and rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
Donovan’s lip quirked up, as if he knew exactly the reaction he was having on me. “It’s not officially against school policy if I fraternize with students.”
I shook off a shiver. “By my own personal definition, it would be unethical.”
“And why is that?” His voice wasn’t just smooth, it was warm. Coaxing, even with its bitter edge.
“You grade my papers.”
“So?” His stare was direct. Intense.
And this conversation was ridiculous. I wasn’t considering it. Was I?
I glanced up, just to get my eyes away from him for one minute, and my gaze landed on a framed portrait on top of his fireplace. It was a picture of Donovan with a woman, both laughing as though they were caught candidly. It couldn’t have been taken too long ago—Donovan looked nearly the same age as he was now, but his hair was short and clean-cut. And I’d never seen the woman. Maybe she was someone waiting for him back home. Or someone he’d broken up with. Or someone he was cheating on by flirting with me.
I looked back at him and realized he’d caught me looking at the picture. “If I fooled around with you, my scores might be affected,” I said, answering his last question.
“If you don’t fool around with me, your scores might be affected.” His tone seemed hard now. Cold.
I smiled tightly and shifted my balance from the ball of one foot to the ball of the other, trying to decide if he was kidding.
His expression said he wasn’t.
I swallowed. “You’re an asshole.”
“Am I? You’re the one who came up here trying to get something from me.”
“What do you mean?” The conversation had totally gotten away from me, and wherever it had gone, I was sure I didn’t want to be there.
“You’re alone with me in my bedroom. What else am I supposed to think you’re after?”
A chill ran through me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. The blood drained from my face.
Donovan set his drink down on the side table and leaned forward so his forearms rested on his thighs.
“Get out of here, Sabrina. This floor is off limits during our parties. Next time you attend one, maybe you’ll think about the ethics of obeying house rules.”
I turned around and dashed downstairs without hesitating another second.
Chapter 2
I grabbed my coat from the bedroom on the main floor where everyone stacked their jackets and ran outside, tying my belt around my waist while I bounded down the front steps of The Keep. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the time. It was too late to risk walking back to my apartment alone. It wasn’t far, but this was campus territory, and I was a better-safe-than-sorry kind of girl. I used my app to arrange for an escort, put my phone away and then rubbed my hands together to keep warm.
It was a cold night. Fall set in right on time in Massachusetts. But like hell was I going back inside. I’d rather freeze.
Which was dumb. I was only punishing myself when I really wanted to punish Donovan. What the fuck was that anyway?
I replayed our entire conversation as I paced the front walk, trying to figure out exactly what had happened between us. All of it had been strange and borderline inappropriate, but there had been something else going on. Hadn’t there? Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I should never have engaged, wouldn’t have engaged in a hundred other similar situations, yet I’d been drawn to him. He’d drawn me to him. That’s the thing about Donovan Kincaid, the thing he was famous for—he was a known puppet master. He was a man who pulled the strings, and he’d pulled me to him.
Then why had he turned so icy at the end?
Obviously that was his game the entire time. He was messing with me. He caught me where I shouldn’t be, and he made me pay for it. I deserved it. Didn’t mean I liked it. And it definitely didn’t mean I liked Donovan.
I glanced up at his window and shivered. Was he standing there right now? Watching me through the glass?
I could almost see the flare of his cigar in the dark. Could almost feel his eyes crawling along my skin. Imagining it made me feel both warmer and colder all at once. Like I was less alone and more alone than ever.
The front door of The Keep opened then, startling my attention in that direction. Theo, a guy I’d seen around a few times, ambled onto the porch and sniffed the air. “Fuck! It’s cold as balls out here.”
Ginger Baldwin followed out behind him with a guy that I guessed she was going home with based on the way they were hanging on each other. “Your balls are cold?” she asked with a giggle. “Is that a normal thing?”
“My balls aren’t cold,” her boyfriend of the night piped in, as if the idea would turn her off. “You’ve got a problem with your anatomy.”
“Har har.” Theo adjusted himself. “My anatomy is fine. Shall we whip them out and compare?”
“You’re always trying to get me to whip it out. Are you sure you’re not trying to tell me something?”
Theo huffed, angrily. “You know what?
Fuck off.”
I lowered my head and eased into the shadows on the side of the steps. Casual socializing wasn’t my forte when all the participants were sober, much less when some were as drunk as these obviously were. I wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone at the moment, anyway.
Unfortunately, the movement must have caught Theo’s eye. “Who’s that over there?”
I pulled out my phone and pretended to be texting someone, pretended not to be listening to them, but I could feel their eyes on me.
“I know her. She’s in my statistics class,” Ginger said quietly. Then louder as she came down the stairs, “Hey, Bree. You okay?”
“Yeah.” I pocketed my phone. “Just waiting for my escort.” Like a loser. With no one to walk her home like the cool kids. I’d managed to drag my roommate to one of the early parties, but it hadn’t been her scene. Besides, Sheri and I weren’t that close, for no other reason than that our schedules didn’t match up and she had a boyfriend who occupied her time.
Ginger smiled a little too widely, and I could imagine her thinking, thank god, I didn’t really want to deal with you, so I’m glad I don’t have to, while she kindly said, “Awesome. Glad you used the app.” She followed her boyfriend to his car parked in front of the house.
Her escort, like a gentleman, opened the door for her, then called out to his friend still standing on the bottom step. “Theo, you coming?”
Theo ran both his hands through his hair and shrugged. “Nah, I’m going to walk.” But instead of stepping down to the sidewalk, he strode over to me. “First, I’ll look out for Sabrina while she waits. That’s cool with you. Right, Bree?”
I didn’t know the guy except from having seen him at previous parties. The offer was odd and out of place. “It’s really not necessary.”
Need you Now (Top Shelf Romance Book 2) Page 2