The fucker has the audacity to smile at me.
“No, you’re just the one who treats women like objects. I know this might come as a shock to you, but our sole purpose on this earth is not to be used for something as fleeting as your own selfish pleasure.”
“You speak as if I were the only one who foundpleasure.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and my eyes track the movement before I realize my mistake.
“Is that what you think I found?” I bark out a laugh. “For someone who goes through women the way you do, you’d think you’d be well-versed on when a woman isactually finding pleasure and when she’s faking it.” I smile, though there’s nothing friendly about it.
“Women who are faking it don’t come back for more.” He gives me a knowing smile and it’s everything I can do not to slap it off his face.
“A momentary lapse in judgment. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
“Pity. Here I was hoping we could make this assignment a little more interesting.”
“In your dreams.” I grit my teeth.
“I’ll take you any way I can get you.” His lips part, a full-blown smile spreading across his mouth.
I suck in a hard breath at the sight.
I may hate him, but it doesn’t mean I’m blind.
Macallan Stewart is gorgeous. There is no disputing that. But for as good-looking as he is on the surface, beneath it is a different story entirely.
“You’re disgusting,” I spout.
“And you’re beautiful,” he counters, those teal eyes seeming to twinkle beneath thick, luscious lashes.
“Flattery will not win you my favor,” I state flatly.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Can we just get back to figuring out this assignment?”
“By all means.” He gestures to the open computer still sitting on my lap.
“Okay.” I blow out a slow breath, turning my focus to the syllabus. “So, it looks like cognitive tests comprise the first part of the assignment. There’s a list of options and we have to choose at least three different ones to perform.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” He points to the screen. “What are they?”
“You know, you could read over it on your own laptop,”I say, looking at his bag, which he makes no effort to retrieve from where he dropped it. “Or not,” I mutter with a shake of my head. “Memory tests. Attention and concentration tests. Problem-solving and reasoning. Language and verbal fluency. Processing speed tests. And lastly, spatial and visual reasoning tests.” I read off the list. “There are also examples on how to perform the different types.”
“So we have to pick three?”
“For this particular part, yes. But there are also several other things we have to cover and a whole slew of other tests we have to run for each one of those as well.”
He leans in so close that I catch a whiff of his scent, sandalwood and citrus. I try to ignore how the smell seems to encompass me, settling over my skin like the fresh kiss of morning dew.
“I vote memory, verbal fluency, and problem-solving,” he says, reading the list directly frommycomputer.
I open my mouth to disagree, wanting to argue for the sake of arguing, but then snap it shut, realizing those were the three I would have picked as well. Especially given that Macallan will be the one conducting the tests on me.
“Fine,” I bitterly agree. “This section is due next Friday, so we need to set aside at least a couple of hours to have time to complete it.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Our team schedules are pretty similar, so we should be able to figure something out.”
“How do you know that?” It’s my turn to lift a brow.
“Because I’m an athlete.”
