She wants to see him get wild and he thinks she needs Jesus.
When AJ Adams is coerced into tutoring Brock Larson, she can’t help but wonder what she’s done to deserve such an epic punishment. He’s the very definition of an All-American good boy—and a total kiss ass. He’s the perfect son, the perfect student, and according to rumor, by far the best golfer the university has ever seen. Puh-lease. If he’s so perfect, why does he need tutoring?
With his British Literature grade circling the drain, Brock knows he needs help. But when he meets his tutor, he can’t believe his friggin’ luck. Abby Jane no longer resembles the childhood best friend he used to play hide and seek with. No, she’s all attitude and pink hair and tattoos. Oh, and she hates him, so that’s a plus.
Brock and AJ couldn’t clash more and antagonizing one another is just too easy. But, as they spend more time together, the lines begin to blur, leading them to realize they have more in common than what meets the eye.
Hate. Lust. Love. They all look the same when you’re in denial, and everyone knows you can’t control your rebel heart.
The drive from Vinny’s back to my place is excruciating. I can’t help but be curious about what’s going to happen once we arrive. Is he going to come up? God, I hope so, and then he can go down…on me. The thought almost makes me moan out loud, and I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together.
“You okay over there?” Brock asks, smirking, not once taking his eyes off of the road.
“Mmhmm. Why?” I frown at how breathless my voice sounds.
“Just over there moanin’ and wiggling in your seat.”
Great. Guess I did moan out loud. “I’m just dandy. Don’t you worry about me.”
Brock guides his truck to a stop across the street from my apartment. “It’s my job to worry about you. Now, c’mon, and I’ll walk you up.”
I roll my eyes outwardly, but on the inside, that line melted me. “Okay, Casanova.” Little does he know our night isn’t ending here.
I press the call button for the elevator, and Brock stands directly behind me, so close the heat from his body covers mine. Ever so slowly, I push my ass into him, and now he’s groaning. “You okay over there?” I ask, throwing his earlier words back at him.
He grips my hips with his strong hands and brings his lips to my ear and harshly whispers, “You’re playin’ with fire, Abby Jane.”
The elevator doors open, and I step away from him and into the car; he follows and taps the button for the second floor. I step closer to him and palm his erection. “Good thing I like it hot,” I whisper, and the words hang between us, mingling with our lust.
The doors open, and we file out and make it to my apartment. I slide my key into the lock and step over the threshold. “Aren’t you gonna come in?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t?” he asks, sounding torn.
I look up at him from beneath my lashes. “I really wish you would.”
Brock scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, you really are a little firecracker.”
