Page 41 of Secrets and Lies
“Good?” He takes a long swallow from his own coffee, his eyes never leaving mine.
An unfamiliar warmth moves through my chest as he keeps eye contact with me, then slowly lowers the can.
“Yeah, it’s great. Thanks,” I say, belatedly answering his question.
The corner of his mouth tips up in a little smirk-smile, and my entire body goes on high alert as he leans closer. “Want to come to my room tonight?” he asks in a low voice, his lips dangerously close to my ear.
Tingles erupt deep in my body as his warm breath fans over my skin.
“Your room?” I practically squeak, my brain and body glitching out from both his proximity and his question.
“To work on the project,” he says in that sexy tone, his lips still right next to my ear.
“Oh, um, yeah,” I stutter like a moron. “Sure. That sounds good.”
He sits back in his seat, his trademark sexy smirk firmly fixed on his lips. “Is eight good?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“It’s a date.”
I know he’s just saying that because it’s a common turn of phrase and it doesn’t mean anything, but my body apparently didn’t get the memo, and more of those tingles explode deep inside me.
Thankfully I’m saved from having to answer him when the door to the class swings open, and everyone immediately quiets as Professor Morris walks into the room.
Now I just have to pay attention for the next ninety minutes and not focus on the mess that is my life right now.
It feels like my heart is in my throat as I knock on the door to Anthony’s room at exactly eight o’clock.
“Come in.”
Drawing a quick, deep breath, I push the door to his room open and step inside.
I’ve never been in his room before, and I’m not surprised to see it has the same layout as mine—and every other room on our floor—only the decor is completely different, which is par for the course in Montague House.
But it isn’t the heavy velvet drapes or the high-contrast damask accent wall that captures my attention as I close the door behind me.
Nope, that would be Anthony standing at the foot of his bed looking like a damn snack in nothing but a pair of low-slung sweats and slides.
His dark hair is damp and hanging around his face in long strands that make him look even hotter and more rugged than usual, and his golden skin is slick and glistening under the soft lights.
Instinctively, I drag my gaze up and down his frame. Anthony has an incredible body, and it’s obvious he puts a lot of work into it. His shoulders and arms are broad and corded with muscles, framing his flat stomach and narrow waist. His legs, like his arms, are thick and strong, and he has one of the best bubble butts I’ve ever seen on anyone. But the thing that sets him apart from most guys around here is that instead of having a chiseled and sculpted look that you get from lifting and bodybuilding, he has the build of an elite athlete.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a quick upnod.
“Hey.” I manage and tear my eyes from the tattoo covering his upper arm.
It’s some of the most interesting ink I’ve seen, and the mix of black-and-white vines and flowers and subtle dragon imagery somehow looks like a completely different design every time I look at another part of it.
“I’m running a bit late and just got back from the gym.” He flips a hank of his long hair back from his face with a quick flick of his head. “Do you mind if I grab a quick shower?”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, sure. That’s fine.” I hook my thumb at the door behind me. “I can come back in?—”
“You’re fine,” he says, his tone as confident as his walk as he strides toward the small, attached bath on the other side of the room. “I won’t be long.” He pauses as he reaches the door and gestures vaguely at the room. “Make yourself at home.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, making sure to keep my eyes on his and not stare at his chest like a creeper.
His smile is laced with something that looks suspiciously like heat as he ducks into the small bathroom, but I shake that insane thought off as he closes the door behind him.
