a/n: Hey, guys. Just in case you're interested, I posted the prologue to a new Rose & Dimitri story called 'Running Down.' It's quite angsty, but I thought I'd let you know in case you wanted to give it a go.
Thank you for the reviews for last chapter!
It usually took three to four weeks for Dimitri Belikov to decide which class he liked the least. But here he was not even a week in, and already there was no competition. His Monday, Wednesday, and Friday 8 a.m. World Civilization class was the bane of his existence. And Rose Hathaway was likely to be the death him. Or she would be if he could die from a throbbing hard-on. Luckily…he couldn't.
It figured she'd be in his first class of the day. It would have been much more convenient if she'd been in his last. Then he could go home and take care of the 'situation' that was sure to occur between his legs before spending a nice evening reading the western he'd gotten from Amazon last week.
Instead he spent the rest of the day hard as a rock, and even when his erection subsided, the aching was still there. Wednesday had been hell. She'd shown up in that racy ensemble—those fuck me shoes and the shirt he'd been wearing while she'd ridden him (it hadn't actually made it's way off him until just before he'd dozed off)—and he'd nearly exploded at the sight of her. Sitting on the damn desk with her bare legs crossed, the hem of his shirt riding practically to the tops of her thighs, she'd become a fantasy he didn't need. A fantasy that could get him in heaps of trouble.
And he had to keep reminding himself of that. Because the thought that was most prevalent in his mind was that if she hadn't left before he'd woken up, they could have had another round before he'd found out that she was off limits.
Dimitri turned his head to look at the clock. Five a.m. Three hours, and he'd be in hell again. But at least this time he had the weekend to recover.
"God, Rose, can't you walk at a normal pace?" Lissa complained through her gasping as she tried desperately to keep up with her friend.
"Can't," Rose said, never even struggling for air as she practically raced along. "My heart rate is in the fat burning zone and I don't want it to slow down."
"But—"
Rose lessened her pace just a bit at her friend's tone so she could catch up. She'd been hoping for some time alone, but Lissa had insisted on coming along. Which was unlike her. She never wanted to do anything that involved exercise or moving—unless it involved her boyfriend, and Rose nearly gagged at that thought.
So her friend's company could only mean one thing: more questions. And Rose wasn't in the mood to answer Lissa's questions. For one thing, her friend had spooked her the other day when she'd mentioned showing up in Rose's World Civ class, and for another, today had not been a good end to her week. She'd dressed as provocatively as she'd dared for her class and hadn't gotten a single reaction from Dimitri. He hadn't looked her way once.
She thought when he'd kissed her outside of the gym the other night that maybe she had a chance of talking her way into his bed again. She hadn't yet gotten her fill of him—in more ways than one—and she was sure he'd felt the same. And then today…nothing.
Dimitri was frustrating as hell for Rose. She wasn't used to not being wanted. And she sure as hell wasn't used to wanting a man more than he wanted her. With a sigh, she turned to Liss. "Let's go out tonight," she said.
Predictably, Lissa shook her head. "Can't. I have a phone date with Christian," she reminded Rose.
Rose groaned. "Talk to him while you're at the bar."
"Oh, yeah. That'd go over well," Lissa said dryly. "Christian knows what a hussy you are. You attract men wherever you go, which means so do I by default. You know my guy has jealousy issues."
"Well we—"
Rose's sentence was cut short when a car pulled right up next to the curb, slowing to match their pace. "What the hell?" she muttered as she kept walking.
Lissa's gaze narrowed. "Tinted windows, sleek, and black," she said appreciatively. "Sexy car."
"Filled with hormonal teenage boys, I'm sure," Rose remarked wryly. "It's creepy to follow us like that."
Lissa laughed. "You can play," she reminded her friend.
"Yes, but—"
Rose was interrupted by Lissa's gasp. She turned her head to follow her friend's gaze and laughed. "Christian," she said, "I should've known."
"You two hotties want a ride?" he said with a grin.
Lissa squealed as she raced toward the car. "Shotgun!"
Rose rolled her eyes. "Figures."
"He didn't look at you once?" Christian asked in surprise as he maneuvered the corvette through the streets later that night.
Rose shook her head. "Nope," she confirmed from the back seat.
"And you were dressed in that?" he continued in shock.
Rose nodded. "Yep."
"Defense mechanism," Christian surmised. "I'm telling you right now, Rose, that no man in his right mind could keep his eyes off you while you're wearing that. Unless he was trying like hell. Trust me—there was a war going on inside that man."
Lissa nodded enthusiastically. "I told you."
"Here we are," Christian said as he pulled up in front of the club. "Curbside service, ladies. I'll find a parking spot and be right in."
Lissa gave her boyfriend a kiss on the cheek before stepping out of the car and then pulled the seat forward so Rose could get out. Rose straightened her skirt as they headed into the club. More than a few curious stares were thrown their way from the throng of people standing on the curb—a corvette wasn't exactly a hot commodity in Bangor, Maine, after all.
After flashing their fake ID's, they made their way inside. "Let's find a table," Lissa yelled.
Rose nodded, her chest vibrating with the beat of the music. They hadn't even made it to the bar when someone stepped in front of Rose, blocking her path.
"Hello."
Rose sighed. Here we go again, she thought. "Hi," she said in what she hoped was a neutral tone. The man was good looking enough, with a ready smile and nice build. But he sure as hell was no Dimitri.
"I'm Ryan," he said.
"Rose," she returned, trying to discourage him with no eye contact. She averted her gaze by glancing over his shoulder.
And locked eyes with a glowering Professor Belikov.
