“Here you go,” he says, handing me another messenger bag that looks like a slightly smaller version of the one he carries. The leather scent is strong as I run my fingers over the front of it before lifting the flap and opening it up. There’s a laptop inside, and when I pull it out, my eyes widen as I look over at him.
“This is a MacBook Air, and it looks brand new.” I set it on my lap, almost too afraid to touch it. It does look brand new, and I know the price tag on these things is pretty hefty because I’ve been saving for one for months. It’s a pretty greyish blue color that I’ve never seen before, and my first thought is that it reminds me of his eye color. When I turn my head, he’s watching me, an intent expression on his face, almost like he’s afraid I won’t take it. He’s right. There’s no way in hell I can accept this.
“I can’t,” I say, already reaching for the bag to slip it back inside, but he reaches over, covering my hand with his as he gives it a soft squeeze.
With his hand still on mine, he says, “Please take it. It’s just sitting around collecting dust.”
“This thing looks brand new.”
His shoulder lifts just enough for me to see the shrug. “I replace my equipment a lot, and I take good care of it, so it always looks new.”
The laptop he’d let me see last night had also been in excellent condition, and that makes me think he might be telling the truth. He must sense that I’m caving because he says, “Please, Van. It will make me happy to know it’s being used, and you have to have a reliable computer.”
I look down at the hand that’s still holding mine, watching his thumb slowly graze the side of my finger. That one small touch is enough to make me feel like a human sparkler. All those hours I’ve spent watchingPride and Prejudiceadaptations and any other period piece romance I could get my hands on didn’t prepare me for this. I’ve seen this feeling in others, but I’ve never gotten to experience it firsthand for myself. One small touch, and I’m hooked. That’s all it took for me to know that Niki Melnikov is it for me. I’d laugh at the absurdity of how fast the epiphany hits me, but I’m still too lost in it to feel anything other than a deep longing for the man who’s still slowly stroking my finger.
“Here,” he says, clicking a few keys and then grabbing my finger again so he can press it to the top right key. I hold still while he gently moves my finger, scanning my fingerprint so I’ll be able to unlock it.
I swear I can feel my hand softly shake beneath his touch, and when it’s over, he doesn’t let go. His eyes stay locked on our entwined fingers, and I let out a shaky breath when he gives them a soft squeeze.
“You’re going to be late for class,” he finally says, breaking the silence and forcing reality to come crashing back in.
I look out the window, recognizing several of my classmates rushing up the stairs so they won’t be late.
“Yeah, I better get going. This professor is really strict and hates it when you’re late.” I look down when he gives my hand another squeeze before letting go so he can pack up the laptop for me. When I realize he wants me to take the bag, too, I shake my head. “I can’t take the bag too. It must’ve cost a fortune. It’s bad enough I’m accepting the laptop.”
“You have to take the bag,” he insists. “How else will you keep it safe?” He glances at my stuffed-to-the-brim backpack. “Please don’t try to cram it into that thing.”
He has a point, and I’m not about to damage the beautiful piece of equipment he’s just given me to use. “Fine,” I say, making him smile, “but I’m serious about it just being a loan until I can buy my own.”
“Of course,” he says way too quickly for it to sound believable.
“I’m serious,” I say again.
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I know you are.”
If I had the time I’d insist on it again, but I wasn’t kidding about my professor. He really hates it when students are late, and I don’t want to get on his bad side.
Before I get out, I hurry up and drink the rest of the coffee and then grab both my bags. “Thank you again.” I gesture towards the bags and then the empty wrapper and cup. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good class, Van.”
When it’s obvious he’s not going to say anything about seeing me again, I open the door and step out. I’ve just slung the messenger bag across my chest like Niki wears his and pulled my backpack over my shoulder when he leans across the console and says, “My old iPad is in there too. I loaded it up with all your textbooks and the extra required reading material for your courses.”
“What?” I ask, too stunned to get beyond that one word.
He grins and grabs the handle. Before he pulls it closed, he says, “Get to class, Van. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Then the door is pulled from the shocked grasp I still have on it, and he drives away, leaving me with what I’m sure is a very stupid look on my face and a million questions running through my head.
Chapter 5
Nikita
Iwatch Savanna’s stunned face in my rearview mirror until she’s no longer in sight. The interior of my car now smells like her intoxicating scent, and I’d immediately gotten hard as soon as I’d smelled it.
Reaching for my own coffee, I down the last of it, needing the caffeine to keep me going. After leaving her last night, I’d run back to my apartment to get what I needed and then snuck back over to her sorority house so I could install my own cameras, because no way in hell was I ever going to be able to sleep knowing how unsafe it is. If someone is going to be using a goddamn ladder to sneak in, then I want to know who the fuck it is.
Now I can see every angle of their backyard, as well as the entire balcony, and I couldn’t resist adding a small camera that gives me a clear view of the hall that leads to her room. I felt like it was a very acceptable compromise. I won’t be seeing anything private, but I will be able to see if someone tries to sneak into her room.
