I suck in an anxious breath as both hands of his touch my bare skin.
I am not turned on by Liam Moretti’s touch.
Except, one touch is like a spark that ignites a firestorm.
I press my lips together, trying not to let the embers spark to life. “What, Liam?”
His usual pale-blue eyes darken to a deep blue like the depths of the ocean. He stares at me, the smile never leaving his lips. “If I’m right, you go on a date with me.”
My breath catches, and I momentarily forget to breathe.
His fingers caress my hip, which sends my heart racing, and I finally exhale.
“A date with you?” I repeat. It’s insane. “Trust me, you and I would kill each other.” He can’t be serious.
Liam snorts with laughter. “Oh, I know, which I think will make it a million times more fun.”
“Fuck, no.”
“Come on. What’s your bet? What do I have to do if you win?” Liam asks, and the way the pads of his fingers have inched under the hem of my shirt has made my head cloudy.
“You have to do my laundry for a month.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to make me drive all the way here to do your laundry?”
“Yep!” The smile never leaves my lips. “Every week. I’ll be generous and let you pick the day.”
It’s obvious to me that he’d hate to be dragged out here every week.
“Of course, you’d be the dominant type. You into a little S and M, Greyson?”
“Not in your wildest dreams.” Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly pull away from his touch. The sudden coldness spreads over me, but the air is warm, the heat scorching, yet I feel ice cold.
Liam whines. “Come on, admit it. You like the idea of me being your concubine.”
“That is so … wrong.” I shake my head. “I didn’t ask you to do sexual things for me. Just my laundry! And it’s not the least bit funny, Liam.”
He smirks and gives me that boyish smile, which makes my heart flutter. “What about your pet?”
“Eww, no.” I blanch at the thought of him wearing a collar or drinking from a bowl on the floor. It’s weird and definitely not my flavor of kink.
My eyes widen, and I reach for his arm. “Wait. Are you into pet play?”
Liam bends over with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes. “No, sweetheart. That’s not my brand of spice.”
I’m relieved, and I’m not even sure why I should care. “What is your brand?” I shouldn’t have even asked, but the question slips out before I can stop myself.
He leans closer, his breath tickling my ear. “If you really want to know, maybe you should go out on that hate-date with me.”
At least he can admit he hates me. “In your wildest dreams, asshole.”
I hurry toward Sophia’s dorm room, which is in the building across from mine. We’re both freshmen and were randomly assigned our housing and rooms.
I got lucky, my roommate moved out after the first week of classes. Watching Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal on repeat may have been the trigger. The college never assigned me a new roommate, and now that it’s summer, I practically get the entire floor to myself.
Can’t complain.
I thrive on silence.