“Would you prefer baby girl?”

“It’s pointless to talk to you.”

The door slides open for the sixth floor, and all I can think about is escaping his proximity. I dash out and he follows me, closer than I anticipated.

He smells like citrus and man and…sex. Not like actual sex, but in a pheromone-induced I’m the alpha male your body is craving kind of way. Gah, that makes no sense. I focus on Donovan. He smells like cinnamon. Good, honest, clean.

Donovan was the most attentive boyfriend echoes in my head.

Yeah? If so, then where’s my damn gift?

Don’t get me wrong—it’s not about the gift. I’ve never needed pretty, expensive things. They aren’t part of my life goals. I just yearn to be happy, to have a home and love.

Is it too much to ask for a simple Happy Birthday, Ana from Donovan?

“Anastasia,” he says, then mutters under his breath, “Jesus, I said I wasn’t going to do this.”

“Do what?” I don’t know what he’s talking about.

I’m almost to the door to the lecture hall when he takes my elbow, his hand wrapping around me as his thumb presses into my inner arm. “Wait,” he says huskily, and I flinch.

Wait?

The past tugs at me. I remember the last time he said that word…

* * *

The bedroom door is half open and I push it the rest of the way, halting in the center—just as Perfect Guy comes out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a towel around his waist and rubs another one over his damp hair. I see part of a snake tattoo that’s wrapped around his right thigh, the golden and black pattern of the skin coiling around the thick muscles then disappearing on his backside. His chest is a work of art, his abs cut like diamonds, deep Vs on his hips.

He’s humming a song with his head down.

Be stealthy. Back away slowly.

He’ll never know.

I’m almost out when I glance back up at him. How can I resist one last peek?

He’s raised his head and stares at me, eyes draping over me, lingering on my mini skirt, before coming back to my face.

“Wait,” comes from him, a purr.

My body buzzes, and I can’t even explain the sensation except that he’s quite possibility the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I cough. “Sorry. I was, um, looking for Donovan’s room. There are so many doors up here, and I didn’t mean to catch you after a shower.” I wave my hands at him. “I’ll go.”

“No. Wait.”

I turn back.

He stares at me, frowning as if he’s deciphering a puzzle. My hand clings to his doorknob as I feel my face turning pink. Ten seconds go by. Why isn’t he saying anything? “Um, we haven’t met officially. I mean, I saw you at the library a few days ago—”

“When you met Donovan,” he finishes, his gaze hardening. “Yeah. I had to take off.” He turns his back to me and stalks over to a dresser. My mouth gapes at the head of the python on his mid-back, its mouth open to strike, fangs dripping venom. It’s a massive tattoo and I wonder how long it took to get—and what it signifies. You don’t commit to artwork like that unless there’s a reason.

He pulls out a pair of black underwear. It’s the silky kind, the sort that will cling to his hips and show the outline of his crotch. My mind wanders, picturing it, and when he turns back around, I start and laugh nervously, keeping my gaze firmly on his face. “Sorry. Again. Wrong room. Good to see you again.”

“I’m River.”

“Donovan mentioned you.” Briefly. We’ve only had one date since the library. Tonight is our second.

“Did he?” he says, his top teeth digging into his bottom lip. “He mentioned you. You’re Ana.”

“Short for Anastasia actually. A-N-A not A-N-N-A.”

His eyes flare.

“Something wrong?”

His chest rises, an incredulous look growing on his face. “Anastasia, you say? Are you sure?”

I tense, uncertainty rising at his reaction. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the name my parents gave me.”

“Fuck me.”

Okayyyy. “Um, it’s Greek, actually, and means resurrection. It’s most popular in Russia. My mom spent a summer in Moscow and really got into the story about their famous Anastasia, the daughter of the last czar. People thought the princess escaped the murders, but well, we know now that she didn’t…” I stop. His face is super weird right now.

“It’s the name,” he says.

“What? You like Russian history?”

“No.”

I blink. “You hate the name. I see.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Then explain—"

“No.” He twists the ring on his finger as he looks away from me. “Figures,” he mutters to himself. “Karma really is a bitch.”

“Ah, I get it. You have an ex with that name? I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“No,” he says as his head swivels back to me. “Close your eyes.”

“No,” I say automatically, an instinct. He’s fascinating, and not only visually, plus the name thing reaction is pricking at me. The truth is, deep down, I kind of thought he was the one who wrote my note in the library, but he wasn’t.

We stare at each other. A hum dances over my skin.

“You gonna watch me get dressed?” he says.

Mortification washes over me. “Oh God. I-I didn’t know you wanted to get dressed. I was just being…funny. You kept saying no before, and I thought if I said it, you know, it would be hilarious and we could bond over it, maybe get past the tension from me seeing you nearly naked…”

“I get it. Close them.”

I don’t.

“Anastasia, close your eyes” is dragged from him.

“Right.” I do, sounds of clothing rustling reaching my ears.

“I’m decent.”

My eyes open and he’s put on a black tank and gray drawstring shorts. His muscled arms are crossed over his chest, his face blank. “You and Donovan? How’s it going?”

“He’s a nice guy…” and I’ve never had one.

He laughs, but it’s not a sound of amusement. “Yeah. That little note was genius.”

“It got my attention.” My fingers pluck at my skirt nervously. “I liked the quote at the beginning—”

“Whatever.”

I frown. River is kind of a dick.

He stalks toward me, his arm brushing against mine, and I gasp at the tingles that cause the hair on it to rise. His arm has goose bumps too.

He opens the door all the way with his face shuttered. “We’ve met and now it’s done and over. Word of advice: don’t walk into my room again, Anastasia.”

I huff. “Like I said, lots of doors up here. My mistake.”

“Yeah? Well, now that you know where I am, don’t make another mistake.”

“Hmmm. Is that because you have a thing about my name, or is it because you’re an ass?”

He rakes his eyes over me, from head to toe, then ends on my lips. “You figure it out.”

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