I don’t think you’re an asshole, but we’ve gone to school together for the past three years.” I shoot him a—who are you trying to kid look. “The tales of your conquests are legendary.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t put so much stock in the gossip you hear around campus, Demi.”
Seriously?
I’ve heard way too many stories for at least some not to be true. It’s a little hard not to believe when the information comes straight from the horse’s mouth. And by horse, I mean the girls he bangs.
“Oh, please.” I snicker before shoving at his arm. Why is he trying to bullshit me? Just own it. “You’re like the manwhore all other manwhores look up to and want to emulate. You should wear that badge of honor with pride.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he growls.
After the night I’ve had, all I want is an honest conversation and to figure out how to better discern the jerks from the guys worth getting to know. Right now, I’m at a loss.
I’m ripped out of those thoughts when Rowan’s fingers lock around my upper arm as we grind to a halt on the sidewalk. Before I realize what’s happening, he drags me closer. I stumble a few steps before crashing into his chest. My gaze goes wide as it locks on his. A harsh look fills his eyes. One I’ve never seen before. It has all the saliva drying in my mouth and nerves skittering along my spine. When my tongue darts out to smudge my lips, his attention falls to the movement. A mixture of excitement and fear bloom inside me as a strange energy crackles in the air.
These are exactly the type of feelings I’ve always tried to keep at bay where Rowan is concerned. It’s as if he’s trying to break through all of my defenses, and I have no idea why. Emotion crashes within, leaving me to feel off-balance and confused.
“What are you doing?” It takes effort to force the question from stiff lips.
Rowan’s face looms close enough for his warm breath to feather against my skin. The feel of it shouldn’t be this intoxicating. It shouldn’t make me want to suck in greedy mouthfuls of him and hold it deep inside. Anticipation coils tightly in the pit of my belly as everything inside me goes silent.
“As much as you think you know me, you don’t know shit.”
That’s not true!
“We’ve known each other for seven years,” I whisper. “How can you say that?”
“Have you ever taken the time to figure out who I am? I’m talking about the guy buried beneath all the hype.” He searches my eyes with narrowed ones. “Sometimes, I think it’s more comfortable for you to pigeonhole me into the persona you’ve created rather than the guy I actually am.”
I gulp down a fresh burst of nerves.
This conversation is ridiculous. I understand exactly who Rowan Michaels is. I’ve been forced to endure dinner with him once a week for the past three years. I’ve listened to him and Dad discuss football ad nauseum. We’ve had classes together almost every semester.
There is no question in my mind that the guy standing before me is a total player. Like most of the athletes at Western, he’s spent the better part of his college years partying and sleeping with groupies. He gets by in his classes because he needs to retain eligibility to play football but has no intention of ever using his degree in the real world.
So...do I know who Rowan Michaels is?
Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.
I open my mouth to blast him into next week and realize that our faces are scant inches apart. Air becomes lodged in my throat at the heated look that fills his eyes. It’s anger mixed with something more potent. My gaze falls to his lips and everything inside me coils tight. An image of us in the kitchen on Wednesday forces its way into my brain. We were standing so close, and I’d wondered if he would kiss me.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’d wanted him to do it.
Just when I think Rowan will lean in, and I’ll finally feel the slide of his lips against mine, he takes a hasty step in retreat. The strong hands gripping my arms fall away, leaving behind an odd kind of regret to fill the emptiness. I’m so tempted to reach out and drag him closer. Instead, my hands tighten at my sides.