Soft. Perfect. Leila.

He lingered just long enough to ignite a twist of desire for her that he’d spent four years trying to sedate. Her breath came out ragged against his lips as her eyes brimmed with disappointment. She was worried he’d changed his mind. The thought almost made him laugh.

He took a step back, unbuttoning his jacket before throwing it on the couch behind him. “Don’t worry,” he easily explained, “I’m just getting started.”

Something akin to excitement flashed across her face, and he had her on her tiptoes, her hand latched around his neck, before she could even finish her next breath. She gasped into his mouth as his hands wrapped greedily around her delicate waist.

Logic, rationality, and common sense crumbled easily under the weight of the attraction that pulled him toward her. She wasn’t just any woman; she was years’ worth of self-deprivation confined into one beguiling bundle of warmth and perfection. Her fingers brushed against the buttons of his shirt, and he took the opportunity to entangle his hands in the long sweep of hair dangling down her back.

He’d always wanted to do that.

As soon as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips long enough to taste the sweet seduction he’d desired for too long, he whipped her around and pinned her against the wall. A new, powerful urge erupted inside him.

Four excruciating years he’d longed for her.

To know her touch, and feel even a hint of that unrelenting passion she used to curse his very existence.

It caused him to touch her body rough and demanding one moment, and then tenderly the next as he fought against his own eagerness. Tonight, this one, small flash in time, would be his only opportunity. Tomorrow, she’d be like all the others.

A memory.

He forced himself back long enough to catch his breath. He noticed the look in her eyes, the one she’d never admit even if it killed her, and he knew her memory would be the one to finally haunt him.

Clouds formed in her brilliant green eyes, the brown flecks swirling with the craving they both felt. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved her, that he’d picked her up and swerved around the couch. Her lips ravaged his throat as his shaky hand sought out the doorknob to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door behind him, setting her down on the sink.

She shot him a crooked smile to ask about the change in scenery. He shrugged. “Just in case your brother decides to come back early. Austin is my roommate, remember?”

He should have been alarmed by the complete lack of guilt he felt at the mention of his best friend. However, in that moment, with Leila’s shiny lips smiling at him for maybe the first time ever, Austin was just the name of some guy he knew. Her hands were already busy when his lips found hers again. She yanked desperately at his shirt, and he discarded it quickly before setting his sights on her dress. Now that she was here, the countless fantasies he’d harbored finally coming to fulfillment, he found himself wanting to slow down, to savor every second.

He maneuvered the zipper of her dress down as the lavish kisses down his shoulder steadily slowed. Her fingers traced his shoulder blade. She inspected the sleeve of tattoos that decorated his entire left arm. “This is new,” she whispered, her breath rushing across his skin like fire on water.

“How would you know?” he challenged, and the look they exchanged said what neither of them would.

Their mutual hatred didn’t mean they hadn’t each been acutely aware of each other for the past four years.

“They’re hideous,” she proclaimed.

His smiled widened. “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re still touching them, right?”

She looked down to see her fingers absently tracing the outline of the emblem that represented their college logo. She pulled her fingers back, and he laughed. “I don’t mind,” he whispered, dropping his forehead down to hers. “I was actually hoping to get a taste of yours. If I remember correctly—” He pushed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the tiny string of hearts, descending in size, that led from behind her ear down her neck. “Yep, there they are.”

He kissed them then, each of the four pink hearts in turn, before dropping down to the nape of her neck. Leila could pretend to be a prim and proper socialite all she wanted, but she’d never convince him. She’d always be the girl with hearts, sitting in the stands and wearing that worn-out jersey. Her bright, innocent eyes taunting him, a constant reminder she was everything he wasn’t allowed to desire.

She sighed, and his primal instincts threatened to take hold of him, enhancing his desire to claim this prize that fate had given him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down from the sink as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh.

He paused, his jaw going slack with shock as he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath the dress. She pushed up on her tiptoes to meet his ear, and this time it was Leila who laughed. “I was prepared to seduce you if necessary.”

Henrik bit the inside of his jaw, bundling the fabric of her dress between his fingers. “Damn. I would have really liked to have seen that.”

“That’s what you get for being easy.”

He growled, though he had to admit he enjoyed when she provoked him. That had been their thing all along, the one and only social interaction she allowed to transpire between them. A battle of wit and ego, deciding who could insult or ignore whom the best. It was time the tables turned. He’d finally prove that she wanted him too.

“You’re one to talk.” He smiled back at her, and his hand slid from under her dress.

She watched him, dazed, as he finished with the final inches of zipper on her dress and let it drop seamlessly to the floor. Her hands trembled along his bare chest, inching their way down until they lingered along his waistline. He watched her intently as she tugged at the button and zipper of his pants.

She was exaggerating her innocence for his benefit. He was sure of it. As the fabric fell away and her hands found him again, the thought was instantly lost to him.

He pulled her away, moving them to the wall, where he pinned her between his arms. She gasped at the gentle way he kissed her, the rough edges suddenly smoothed away. His skin was hot, burning, and bloomed damp when she bit desperately at it. The air was ripe, thick, and tasted of her delicious, fruity scent with each gulping breath he took.

Whatever this woman did to him, he welcomed. Whatever she demanded of him, he wanted to give. Leila slipped her bra away, suddenly naked against him. He wrapped his long arm around her waist and heaved her easily up until her backside pressed against the wall. He looked at her, watching her eyes for even a hint of indecision. He found none.

She yelped violently, her shrill scream catching in her throat. Her fingers clawed desperately at his neck. He could see the shock, the pain mixed with pleasure on her face. His temple fell against hers, until they were eye to eye.

“Leila.” His voice was suddenly ragged and desperate.

What the hell did he just do? She wasn’t just pretending to be innocent.

“Don’t stop.” Her breath was shaky against his neck. Tears. Those were definitely tears on her lashes.

“But…Leila—”

“No.”

Shit. Austin was really going to kill him now. For real kill him.

The sudden reality and depth of his betrayal finally started to sink in. Austin warned him that Leila was off limits, and now he understood why. He’d make the news for this. Death by big brother. Probably on national television too. That was Austin’s style. A little public humiliation with your ass beating.

Leila’s breath hitched against his neck, her desperate fingers latching tighter around his bare shoulders. Life would never be the same after this—it couldn’t. He broke the man code, and he would pay the price. He should feel shitty, and scared, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Not right now. As Leila’s vulnerable whine echoed in his ears, he thought maybe not ever.