Everything was madness. My actions, the situation, and most importantly, his kiss. I spun out of control under his mouth, surrendering to it completely, even as the kiss was tame. Luka pressed his lips to mine tentatively, but when I parted my lips to gasp, he took advantage.
His tongue dipped into my mouth and was an electric jolt straight between my legs. Did I taste like tequila as he did to me, or could he also taste my lust? I had two years’ worth, and this kiss broke the dam holding it back. It poured from me, and as I spun, I latched my hands onto his shoulders to keep myself steady.
What the hell was I doing? Making out with a stranger in a private room at a frat party . . . who was I? Luka’s hands grasped my hips and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss and pressing me against his solid form. He wasn’t really a stranger, though. I felt like I knew him.
My fingertips tangled in his hair. I hadn’t realized my hands had wandered until Luka’s mouth began to slide away from mine. It drifted across my cheek, down over my jawline, and onto my neck. I shivered from his hot breath beside my ear.
“What are you supposed to be?” His voice was low, verging on hypnotic. “Naughty schoolgirl, or Britney Spears, the early years?”
His mouth was drugging me, working in tandem with the tequila snaking in my system. His teeth skimmed the pulse racing in my neck, just below my ear. Oh, that felt good. My legs threatened to go boneless, and I clung tighter to him.
“Whichever one,” I said between hurried breaths, “you like more.”
I stood powerless beneath his kiss and his hands for a long time, trying to savor it. This wasn’t my exact fantasy come to life, but it was pretty damn close. I’d let Luka do all sorts of bad things as long as he kept kissing me.
The thumping bass from downstairs abruptly cut off, followed by jeers and complaints from the partygoers. Luka’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. Had the party been busted?
Just as quickly as it had cut off, the music began again. Perhaps they’d just had technical difficulties with the audio, but it had been enough of a surprise to pull Luka and me from the moment. The dazed look in his eyes melted away and he returned to his usual state. Serious and guarded.
As I reluctantly slid my hands down his chest and away from him, I tried to regain some sense.
“What about your roommate?” he asked. His hands remained on my waist, trapping me. “Is she going to come looking for you?”
No, not a chance. “It’s doubtful.”
“Maybe I should lock the door just to be safe.”
His words brought a fresh wave of nerves to coil in my belly. Luka didn’t want to be disturbed. What exactly did he think was going to happen?
“I . . .” It was impossible to organize my thoughts. “I don’t even know your last name.”
His hands released me and his posture went rigid, like I’d just asked something extremely personal. “You don’t need to know it.”
I scrunched my face into a scowl. “Then you definitely don’t need to lock the door.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out loudly, signaling frustration. “It’s Markovic.”
Markovic. Why was that name familiar? There was a hard edge to Luka’s expression, watching me intently, as if waiting for me to recognize it.
“Markovic Motors?” I guessed. There was a chain of car dealerships on the south side of the city whose jingle was annoyingly catchy. A universally recognizable melody to all of Chicago, but not terribly nostalgic.
His dark eyes blinked slowly. “Yeah. My father owns it.”
I couldn’t place the emotion on his face. Was he embarrassed about this, and if so, why? Was he one of those people who was uncomfortable with their own wealth? As a girl who’d grown up in a family that struggled to get by, I couldn’t understand it at all.
Now that Luka had taken his hands off of me, I was cold. A large part of me wanted to go back to what we’d been doing moments ago. His mouth had been on fire, and I shivered in the absence of his warmth. I longed for his body to be pressed back against mine, but my head railed against it.
He didn’t ask, so I offered. “I’m Addison Drake.”
“I remember,” he said. “Addison Drake with her perfect handwriting, except for her weird twos.”
“What? My twos aren’t weird.”
“They’re just loops. It took me a while to figure them out. I almost graded your homework wrong.” His gaze drilled into me. “Would that have gotten you to talk to me? I can’t imagine perfect Addison Drake would allow herself to get something less than an A.”