Torrid

by Nikki Sloane

  So this version of Luka was downright intimidating. He’d been cute before, but this man was handsome. In fact, he was so attractive, my knees softened and my stomach trembled. He’d changed so much in the last two years. Perhaps it was the implied violence of the gun at his hip, but he seemed . . . dangerous now. It was a rush just to look at him.

  The hand in the small of my back moved, causing me to jolt.

  “He can’t fill up your cup if you don’t hold it out, sweetheart,” the astronaut said.

  Of course. I’d been standing frozen beside the keg, clutching the plastic cup tight to my stomach. It wasn’t much of an invitation to pour me a drink, was it? I tried not to bristle at the sweetheart comment, and also not to stare at the man before me who had one hand on the tap.

  Luka’s gaze dropped down as I held out the cup and he filled it. His expression was total indifference.

  “That’s good, thanks,” I said.

  He rewarded me with a quirk of his eyebrow. I watched as it lifted into a perfect arrow, just like the mathematical symbol for a logical conjunction. How ridiculous was it I’d waited two years for this exact response? My knees grew weaker.

  “You waited in line for a sip of beer?” The astronaut laughed and turned his focus to Luka. “Fill her up.”

  “No, thank you.” I pulled my cup away. “I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

  “You want something different?” The astronaut said. It was unavoidable that my gaze connected with Luka’s. Yes, I thought. I’d like something different than the stranger at my side who still had his hand on my waist like he’d laid his claim. I wouldn’t mind something more like the quiet man before me. I shifted my weight to my opposite foot, easing myself away from the hand.

  “They’ve got blackjack shots in the game room.” Luka’s voice was so deep it was startling, and froze me in place.

  I tried to sound confident and unaffected. “What kind of alcohol is Blackjack?”

  “No,” Luka said. “They’re playing blackjack. You do a shot of tequila if you lose.”

  “Oh?” It came out sounded eager, even when I didn’t mean for it to.

  He cocked his head to the side, as if noticing something interesting about me, although I couldn’t fathom what. “You know how to play?”

  I pressed my lips together. “I do.”

  “I got too fucked up on tequila last week,” the astronaut interrupted. “If I smell it, I’ll hurl.”

  A beast of a guy appeared beside Luka, grunted a thanks, and instantly Luka handed over the tap, abandoning his job of dispensing beer. It left the astronaut, Luka, and me standing awkwardly in a circle. His black-eyed gaze swept over me once more. “I’m heading that way, Addison. You want to play?”

  Oh my God. He knew my name? My throat closed up and I dry-swallowed. The question rang in my head. You want to play? Since I couldn’t find words, I nodded quickly.

  He jerked his head toward the doorway. “Come on.”

  I didn’t even look back at the astronaut as I followed Luka. I watched his broad back while we wormed through the crowd into the darkened hallway where both the noise and the music grew louder. It was hot and humid from the bodies packed in the house, and the air in the game room was thick.

  House parties were more intimate than the bars. You had to lean close and shout your conversations in the other person’s ear to be heard over the pulsing, frenetic beats. It drew Luka up beside me and his lips hovered beside my neck.

  “It’s Addison, right?” he shouted. “Your name?”

  He smelled like woodsy heaven as I leaned forward. “Yeah. You’re Luka?”

  I pulled back just in time to see the pleased look flash in his eyes. It only lasted a second, but it was exciting. He nodded as we continued toward the back of the room. When there wasn’t a party going on, I assumed the couches that lined the walls were probably staggered in the room. The ping pong table in the corner was in use for beer pong, and opposite it was a green felt-covered poker table.

  Luka didn’t seem like the type to belong to a fraternity, but then again, what did I know? He’d always been aloof during class. Isolated from anyone else. Perhaps it was why I’d found him so attractive. We seemed a lot alike.

  There was a deck of cards at the table, and beside it, two bottles of cheap tequila with pourers capped in. A small crowd watched the guys playing a round, and when it was over, the loser picked up the bottle and poured a stream of tequila into his open mouth.

  Well, I thought, at least that’s sanitary.

  “I need to watch for a minute,” I said, when Luka motioned toward the table. The corner of his mouth curled upward. Was that a smile? It vanished instantly.

  I loved card games in all of their forms. I’d spent many nights volunteering at the emergency room hospital, and played with the other orderlies and nurses during the quiet times. We’d gambled for money or snacks from the vending machine, and usually I cleaned up. Blackjack was my favorite. I’d learned from the internet how to count cards so I knew when my hand would be most favorable.

  After a few more rounds, the two guys at the table cleared out and a new pair moved in. Luka’s gaze drifted to me, but I took a sip of my beer to stall. I still didn’t have a good read. I’d assigned a point value to each card I’d seen and kept the total running in my head.

  “You keep drinking that,” Luka’s voice invaded my ear, “and you won’t have anything to chase your shots with.”

  Tonight I was determined to be my opposite. By God, Addison, you’re going to attempt to flirt. I peeled my lips back into a confident and unfamiliar smile. “Who says I’m going to lose?”

  There was no change in Luka’s expression, and yet the air seemed to shift around us. It closed in.

  “You’re right.” His hand curled gently around my elbow and urged me forward. “You can’t lose if we don’t play.”

  We. I tripped over the word in my head. His hand was warm against my bare skin, and the hairs on my arm lifted in response to his touch. It wasn’t cold in the humid game room, but I had to fight to hold back the shiver.

  I’d never gotten flustered when it came to boys, but Luka wasn’t a boy. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, and his eyes . . . he seemed older. I wasn’t surprised at my body’s reaction, though. I certainly hadn’t forgotten him in the last two years; in fact, I’d fantasized about him. I’d also compared the guys I dated to the fictitious Luka I’d created in my head, and always found them lacking.

  The real-life Luka wouldn’t be anything like the one I’d crafted, I was sure. The man with a hand on me was probably like every other guy. Too focused on sex. Average intelligence. Boring. I hoped I was wrong.

  Luka pulled out the chair for me and I sat, and in my head I issued a sigh when he abandoned his hold and moved to the other side of the table. Had my sigh been audible? His dark eyes hinted at a smirk as he lowered to sit across from me.

  His fingers were long and he moved with graceful precision as he picked up the deck of cards and dealt us each a card face down, and then one face up. I evaluated my cards quickly, pleased that I had an eighteen. His card up was a four, and there were a lot of high cards left in the deck.

  “I’ll stay,” I said.

  He pulled a third card off the deck, which was a queen. He flipped over his other card, exposing a ten, and wrapped a hand around the neck of the tequila. It was strangely erotic to watch him tip back his head and pour the alcohol into his mouth.

  Luka’s gaze was fixed on me as the bottle thunked back down on the table. He dealt a second hand, and his focus never wavered as I peeked at my down card. Was he gauging my reaction, hoping I’d give something away? I stared back at him, keeping my expression vacant.

  My voice was quiet but firm. “Hit me.”

  My jaw tightened when he laid down a king. Maybe he’d think it was a grimace, but it was to hold back my smile. He flipped his card over, revealing a seventeen, and pushed the bottle of tequila at me.

  Ins
tead I smiled and revealed my ace. “Twenty-one.” I shoved the bottle back his direction.

  Beneath the table, my knees pushed together as his eyebrow arched. How was it I’d waited two years for that, and now he’d given it to me twice in ten minutes?

  When I won the third round, something like malice flashed in Luka’s eyes. He clearly did not like to lose.

  “Why the hell did you stay with a fifteen?” After he’d finished his shot, his gaze narrowed. His head cocked to one side. Once again, his critical evaluation made me feel naked and vulnerable, but it was a feeling I didn’t mind as much when it came from him.

  “What are you doing?” It came out before I could hide the concern from my voice.

  An evil smile dawned on the sharp angles of his face as he opened the table drawer and retrieved a new deck of cards. My heart skipped faster as he shuffled the two decks together, erasing all my hard work.

  “Oh,” Luka said. “Does that fuck up your count? Let’s play for real now.”

  My face flamed red. The sound of the cards shifting couldn’t be heard over the music, but I watched as Luka bridged the decks together. I fought to remain calm and collected. What’s the big deal? You came to have a few drinks and be someone else tonight.

  I busted on my first hand and satisfaction streaked through Luka’s expression. I licked my lips, clenched the cold bottle in my hand, and took a deep breath. Just the smell of the tequila had my stomach turning, but I ignored it and leaned back. The burn of the liquor flooded my throat and I swallowed, forcing it down.

  “You were counting the cards, yeah?” he asked. I nodded slowly, and he looked intrigued.

  I lost the second hand and stared nervously at the bottle. I didn’t drink much. If I lost too many hands, I’d be dangerously drunk. The second mouthful of tequila made me gag, and I chased it with my final sip of beer.

  As he dealt out the next round, his fingers lingered on my card. “You look like you don’t want to play anymore.”

  I pressed my lips together. “I’m kind of a lightweight.”

  Luka’s dark eyes glittered and an invisible hand tightened around my lungs. His expression was seductive and sinister. Scary, and yet . . . enticing. It kept me rooted in my chair as he dealt the cards.

  Thank God. I had a ten showing and an eight hidden. Across the table, Luka’s up card was a three.

  “I’ll stay,” I said.

  He pulled one more card from the deck, and as a pleased smile teased his lips, a shiver rolled down my back. He turned his cards face up. Twenty.

  My eyes pinched tightly shut as I gulped the mouthful down and tried not to gag. The tequila seemed to scald more with each swallow, and tasted like gravel. I pushed back from the table to stand—

  “One more.” His voice was firm, like this wasn’t a request.

  I blinked. “I can’t do another shot.” Three was probably already too many.

  “One more,” Luka said. His gaze pinned me in place. “If you lose, you can do something else instead.”

  “Like what?”

  He appeared to consider his options before speaking. “You let me give you a tour.”

  It was such a strange request. He thought this was a punishment? I drew in a breath and tried to find the downside to his offer. Since there wasn’t one, I slid back into the seat. The room had grown crowded and louder in the short amount of time we’d been sitting at the table, and another pair was waiting to take our place, so Luka didn’t waste any time.

  I had mixed feelings when I won the hand. I watched my excuse to hang around him longer disappear as he poured the shot into his open mouth. When it was done, he looked . . . disappointed?

  It came from me without thought. “I’ll still go on that tour.”

  He paused.

  A slight smile drew across his face and disappeared when he stood, gesturing toward the door. It was so loud he raised his voice over the roar of the party. “Let’s get going, then.”

  I followed him out of the game room and into the entryway, jostling between people in various states of drunkenness. Costumes ranged from silly to slutty to almost non-existent. Luka stopped at the bottom of the stairs and I ran into the back of him. He was like a wall.

  “Can’t go upstairs,” a guy dressed as a cowboy said. He stood beside Luka, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Luka said nothing. He stood motionless, staring down the cowboy, who seemed to wilt under Luka’s intense gaze.

  “Wait a minute.” The cowboy’s arms uncrossed and his posture changed quickly. “You’re Vas’s brother?” He moved to the side to let Luka pass. “Sorry, my bad.”

  “If Vasilije starts looking for me,” Luka said, “tell him to text. I’ll be upstairs.”

  Luka’s head turned and he peered over his shoulder, wordlessly commanding me to follow him up the steps. He didn’t live here at the frat house, apparently, so why did he offer to give me a tour? I trailed behind him, confused, teetering on my heels as we climbed the steps.

  Since noise traveled upward, it wasn’t any quieter when we reached the landing at the top of the staircase. Luka’s focus swung from one end of the empty hallway to the other, then turned to me.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” I asked, only half teasing.

  Fingers rested gently in the hollow of my back and urged me to the right, down the darkened hallway which was lined with closed doors. He strode beside me, heading for the door at the end, and although the music grew quieter, my nerves grew louder. Being alone with Luka was exciting and terrifying.

  He grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, revealing a room I hadn’t expected.

  2

  THERE WAS NO SIGN of this being a typical college kid’s room. Luka waited for me to go inside, so I stepped hesitantly through the doorway. A queen-sized bed took up most of the far wall, a dresser occupied the left side, and on the right, a large, brown leather couch. The room was clean, nicely furnished, and the bed made.

  “This is the resident advisor’s room,” Luka said. “And it concludes the tour.”

  “What?”

  As I whirled around to face him, Luka shut the door, closing us in together. My heart leapt in my chest and raced. Oh shit, I’d been stupid. So, so stupid. I took a step back defensively, needing space.

  “Whoa.” Luka’s deep voice was hushed and his arms held up in surrender. “This is the furthest place in the house from the party. We might actually be able the hear each other in here.”

  “Hear each other what?” Anxiety flooded my voice.

  He took a breath. “I can open the door if you’d feel more comfortable, but it’ll be louder, and I want to talk to you.”

  His words did nothing to calm me, but my anxiety shifted slowly from danger to my lack of experience with men. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “You.”

  I’d swear he could sense the change in my nerves. The light from the streetlamps outside flooded through the window, and shadows played across Luka’s face, giving him an almost threatening cast. But it faded when a faint smile tugged across his lips.

  “What’s your major?”

  My heart was lodged in my throat, making it difficult to breathe or speak. “Biology. Pre-med.”

  “Oh.” Most people looked impressed when I told them that, but not Luka. His expression remained fixed.

  “You?”

  “I’m alumni now. I got my MBA last year.”

  A warning flashed through me. What was he doing at a frat party when he didn’t go to Randhurst anymore? My unease must have been visible.

  “My brother, Vasilije,” Luka said quickly, like he wanted to explain. “He got in trouble, and part of the deal he made with my father was I get to keep an eye on him.” His tone was sharp. “I have things I’d rather fucking do than hang out with a bunch of drunk, underage college kids.”

  The statement rankled. “I’m not drunk, underage, or a kid compared to you.”

  I wasn’t prepared for Luk
a’s smirk. It looked like sin when it washed through his expression. “No? If you’re not underage, why aren’t you at the bars?”

  Crap. I shifted on my heels. “My roommate’s not twenty-one.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “So, Addison, we’re both stuck here for other people.” Luka took a step toward me, and even though there was still quite a bit of space left between us, his one small step felt enormous. Like he was now twice the size he’d been a second ago.

  My chest was beginning to feel warm, no doubt from the tequila. “How is it you remember my name?”

  “Probably for the same reason you remember mine.”

  That was incredibly doubtful, but I kept my face plain. “Calculus was that memorable for you?”

  “Yeah, it was. You were there every class, staring at me.”

  I inhaled sharply, mortified, and tore my gaze away. “I did not.”

  “Look at me.” His firm tone made it so there was no other option but to obey. When I did, his black eyes were focused and intense. “You stared when you didn’t think I could tell, but you weren’t very good at hiding it.” I opened my mouth to deny further, but he cut me off. “I was better than you. I made sure you never noticed I was looking.”

  My brain disconnected and thought ceased. “Why?”

  Luka’s hands rested casually on his hips, just over the fake police belt and gun holster. “Because a girl like you . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He seemed to search for the right word, but not find it, and every drawn-out second that passed made it worse. Because a girl like you . . . Isn’t good enough. Rich enough. Smart enough. A girl like you isn’t experienced enough.

  “You shouldn’t be interested in a guy like me.”

  “What?” I was intelligent and well spoken, and yet I couldn’t choke out more than one word at a time.

  “I’m not a nice guy.”

  I swallowed hard. “Well . . .” How was I supposed to respond to that? “I’m sure that’s not true.”