“You must be Daniel,” I force out. “I’m Rebecca.” I extend my hand and cringe at my lapse in judgment. The last thing this volatile moment needs is direct contact.
He ignores my gesture and narrows those hypnotic eyes. “Why are you in our suite?” His slight accent only heightens my fascination, and I hate that Lucy is right. More than right—he’s every kind of dangerous I shouldn’t want. Tousled dark hair, day old scruff, a build that screams trouble for any dark alley threat. No, Daniel doesn’t have Ben’s chiseled perfection, but his rugged indifference captures me on a visceral level. Deep and hot that gaze breaches old defenses the longer we face-off. Ben knows he’s beautiful. I doubt Daniel gives a shit that he can take a girl’s breath away.
“I guess we’re going to be roommates,” I say, heart hammering in my chest.
“Great,” he mutters. “Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
I nod, but a brain that’s never been good in social situations is totally useless now. Filter off. Autopilot on. “Busy schedule of beating people up, probably,” it blurts out because… oh my god!
His hard expression softens into shock which spreads into something else. Amusement, maybe? Deadly on him, and I force myself to look away.
“Why? You have someone for the list?” Is he fighting a smile? Gosh, I’d do anything to see what a smile does to his face.
Me? Still as awkward as ever. “No. Well, maybe Laura.” My hand flies to my mouth. “Crap, did I say that out loud?”
This time the right side of his mouth lifts in a clear smirk, and the marching band in my stomach launches a whole new anthem. Right. See, this boy should never be allowed to do something like release a sexy smirk. Where was that on the rap sheet everyone seemed so eager to recite?
“Yeah, I can’t see her being thrilled about a new roommate like you.”
My blood pounds harder as he scans me again. Slowly this time. Brutally, deeply boring that gaze into me until I’m mentally biting my knuckles to keep the words inside but…
“You’re not like what they said,” I vomit out.
Shit.
A dark brow lifts in a new expression I also can’t read. “Really.” It’s not even a question. More, vague interest, because he’s him, and I’m me, and neither of us knows what that means yet.
“What I mean is, you’re not…” And now my brain just stops altogether.
“Not what? You’ve known me for twenty seconds.”
My face is on fire. The burn spreads up and down my entire body until I’m praying for spontaneous combustion. “I know. It’s just …” He waits, and the silence sends me back to car-accident Rebecca while my head tries to catch up. “It’s just, they hate you so much.”
Any remaining amusement drains from his face. His fist clenches at his side. “Yeah? Maybe you should take the hint.”
I shrink at his harsh tone, but nineteen years of reading people from the inside makes me pretty good at interpreting the outside as well. His anger is more forced than it should be. Is he a walking car wreck too? I took the timid approach to survival. It easily could have gone in another direction.
“In my experience, people often hate for the wrong reasons.”
His eyes darken, and I know I’ve struck close. I may not know him, but the others don’t either.
“What exactly do you want?” he asks. “Why are you grilling me?” His tone is softer now. Dangerous in the way that slight change sucks me in.
“I just wanted to introduce myself. Better now than some awkward midnight encounter, right?”
“Midnight encounter? Wow, you’re optimistic.”
The thought makes my pulse pound in unwelcome throbs, and I lift my chin in challenge. “Your brain went there, not mine.”
A faint smile flickers over his lips again before he sighs. “Fine. In the spirit of avoiding awkward midnight encounters, I’m Daniel Mueller.” He holds out his hand, and I freeze, trapped by my own stupidity. Now what? Should I touch him? How can I not?
“Rebecca Carson,” I say, tentatively reaching for his fingers.
Heat.
Spark.
Explosion.
