He frowns. “Try to look past that fact for a minute… pretend I have a way to get some extra cash. Then what do you think?”

“I think I barely know you,” I reply. “And you barely know me. And it’s really hard living with people you barely know. Trust me. I’ve done it a lot.”

“It’s hard living with people you do know, too.” He pushes up on his elbows and turns over to puts the cards on the desk near the foot of the bed. The towel opens up and I catch a glimpse of his dick.

I bite my lip, thousands of thoughts flooding my head as my heart thuds in my chest and my skin covers in tingles. When he turns around all the way back, I pretend to be examining my fingernails while shivers continue to nip at my skin.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know, but we could make it work. And it’s better than living on the streets or in my truck… I think.” He fidgets uncomfortably, readjusting the towel back over himself. He examines the backs of his hands like they’re the most fascinating thing and for a moment he looks very vulnerable, but when he glances up there’s only this rough, raw, animalistic look in his eye. “We can make it work.”

“How would you get extra cash flow?” I say, nerves bubbling in my chest from the rough edge of his voice. “I told you earlier I won’t be dealing anymore.”

“And I’m glad,” he says. “And let me worry about the extra cash flow on my part.”

I shake my head. “I need to know—I need to know what I’m walking into.”

“Fine, I’m going to gamble.”

“There’s nowhere to gamble around here. There won’t be any campus parties.”

“Not at the kind of the parties you’ve been to, but there are others.”

“Dangerous parties.” The words roll off my tongue like sweet-tasting honey and my nerves calm down.

“Why do you sound so exited when you say that?” he wonders curiously.

“I don’t,” I lie, sitting up on the bed. Can I do it? Live with him? Am I seriously considering this? My heart beats quicker, harder. Jesus. “So if we do this, then you’ll actually make money, right? Not lose it.”

He glances down at the cards. “I just showed you how easy I can win.”

I frown, unconvinced. “Yeah, but I also caught on to your little trick.”

“Yeah, but you’re more observant than others.”

“True.”

“So what do you say?” he asks with a crook of his brow, laid-back and casual, but there’s a darkness haunting his eyes. “Roomie?”

My hands are shaking, but in a good, holy-hell sort of way. “All right, it’s a deal.” I stick out my hand and we shake on it. His touch sends tingles up my arm and my pulse accelerates, throbbing in my wrists, fingertips, neck, and even between my legs. I wonder if he can feel it.

He frees my hand and rises to his feet, turning his back to me. He opens the towel up and I wonder what he’s doing. Then he ties the towel back up and disappears for the closet. “All right, Violet, who still hasn’t told me her last name. We have a deal,” he calls out.

A slow breath eases out of my mouth, freeing my restless energy. Before I even know what I’m doing I open my mouth and say, “It’s Hayes. My last name is Hayes.”

I want to slap myself in the head for giving him my real last name. Normally I tell people I’m Violet Smith, a simple name that I used to go by when I was younger because it was better than telling people my real last name. Sometimes I’d make up extravagant names for the hell of it when Smith got too dull. Yet, I just handed over the one real thing about me to Luke. I vow that for the rest of the night I’ll be as quiet as possible to avoid letting anything else stupid slip out of my mouth.

I lie down on the bed, putting my head on his pillow, which smells like smoke and cologne—like him. I focus on my breathing, keeping myself calm as night approaches outside.

When Luke wanders back out of the closet, he’s wearing drawstring pajama bottoms, but he didn’t put a shirt on so I’m stuck staring at his muscles and tattoos all night. He opens another bottle of Jack and takes a few more shots, which I’m noticing he does a lot and I wonder how hard it is on his body since he’s a diabetic, especially after what happened in his truck. It makes me kind of nervous, thinking about the fact that he could either get really sick all of a sudden or drop dead even. As I think about the idea, it sort of hurts my heart. Holy shit. I’m actually worried about him.

He stands to the side of the bed staring down at me with a pucker at his brows. “So Hayes, huh?” he asks, folding his arms and jerking me out of my thoughts.

I shrug, pretending it’s not a big deal when it is. “Yeah, it’s just a last name, though.”

“Yet, you seemed very reluctant to hand it over to me.”

“Maybe, I was,” I say, keeping my tone light and sarcastic. “But I guess you wore me down.”

He scans my entire body and my knees slip apart, like they’re giving him an open invitation. For a second I think of the porn movie I saw at Preston’s and the look on the guy and girl’s faces as they went to town. So content. Blissfully, lost in themselves. It kind of makes me want to let Luke do the same thing to me, see if I can get to that place.

“What are you thinking about?” he wonders as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

I bite my lip, feeling embarrassment surface, but I play it off. “Nothing important.”

He seems greatly conflicted about something as he continues to stare down at me. “Do you want to borrow one of my shirts to sleep in?” he finally says.

I almost laugh at the idea of wearing something that belongs to him as I fall asleep in his room. It’s too personal, then again this entire situation is getting personal and I start to get up to change beds. “I’m good, but thanks.”

He nods and then with hesitancy, he lies down on the bed beside me, leaving hardly any room between us. “You can just sleep in… my bed if you want. I don’t have any extra sheets or blankets.”

I freeze, glancing at the mattress on the other side of the room, and then at the limited space between us. “That’s okay… I can handle sleeping on a filthy mattress for one night.”

He pauses, looking as uncomfortable as I do. “Just stay in my bed, Violet. If you want I’ll take Kayden’s old one, but I’m not going to make you sleep on that filthy thing.”

I frown, considering the options. I hate sleeping with people and I know I should take the other bed or make him take it, but for some reason I find myself curious about the idea of sharing a bed with him. “Fine, we can share.” I lie back down on the bed and shoot back against the wall, putting as much space between us as I can. “Just don’t crowd me.”

“And vice versa,” he says and I roll my eyes. “And don’t worry, I usually don’t sleep talk, although I do sometimes sleep kiss.” The corners of his lips tease upward and I’m struck by how nice his smile is.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t sleep bitten anyone in long time,” I retort. “Then again, no one’s given me a good reason to.”

“Dually noted,” he says with another smile as he moves his arm above our heads to the pillow and turns on his side to face me.

I smile back, but it’s tight and not necessarily my phony one, but a nervous smile. I can’t believe I’m actually going to sleep in a bed with someone. The last time that happened was when a son in one of my foster families would sneak into my room and kiss me until I fell asleep. I was fourteen and he was sixteen. Honestly I was confused because it felt so good to be kissed yet at the same time it felt wrong. Regardless of my conflicted feelings I kept letting him come into bed with me, touch me, even though we barely said ten words to each other my entire two months there. Then his mother walked in and caught us and it was good-bye Violet.

I start to sit up, deciding that I’ll take the gross mattress over this because I don’t think I can handle it. But he shifts closer to me, crowding me just like I asked him not to do, I feel the current of his body heat hit mine. I remember how it felt in the truck to be under him, how good his lips felt on mine, and it keeps me glued to the mattress until dark settles through the room and my eyelids become too heavy to keep open.