“Enjoy your year with us.”

How was I going to enjoy it if I couldn’t pay for it? Before I could sputter an intelligent response, Mrs. Trenton was leaving.

“Hugo, you’ll take good care of her?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as the door shut behind her.

“What does she mean take good care of me?” I asked.

“Your work-study is to tutor Mr. Wilder. Mine is to be your butler. I’m here to help you.”

Butler? That was it. I was in some kind of parallel universe. I tried to crank my jaw up off the floor and found some semblance of a coherent thought. “Which room is Mr. Wilder in?” I managed to ask.

“Ten thirty-two,” he answered.

I was in the hallway, my ID around my neck, before he finished. “Ten thirty-two,” I mumbled to myself as I walked two doors away to the other corner suite and knocked.

Loud rock music blared from inside, and I knocked again, this time harder.

“Hold on!” came a loud male voice.

A moment later, the door opened and a beefy, bald guy answered. “Can I help you?”

“Umm… I’m looking for Mr. Wilder?”

He looked me up and down and then smirked. “Not his type, honey. Sorry.”

If my cheeks had warmed earlier, now they were on fucking fire. “I’m not looking to score him; I’m his tutor.” I lifted the lanyard from my neck and dangled the attached ID.

His eyes widened. “Oh, Miss Baxter? He’s getting ready, but come on in. Wilder!” he yelled as he shut the door behind me. “I’m Little John, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, and bit my tongue when I wanted to ask where Robin Hood was hiding.

Wilder’s suite was bigger than mine, which was absolutely mind-boggling. What would someone need with all this space? We cleared the hallway into the huge living area, and I snorted. There were at least a dozen bikini-clad girls lounged over his couches, drinking out of red Solo cups. I guess you needed that much room when you traveled with your own harem.

Don’t get judgy.

Too late.

I couldn’t help it. I was here for serious academics and travel, and he was, well…apparently not.

Looking up, I watched him come down the stairs. I might have been blown away by the fact that he had a two-story suite if I hadn’t been stunned by Mr. Out of My League walking toward me with a grin. No way. No. Fucking. Way.

“Balcony girl?”

Oh God. He had seen me. And that voice. It was deep, slightly gravelly, and sexy as hell. Almost as sexy as the dragon tattoo that wound itself from his heart to where the tail dragged along the lickable line of his abs. Not lickable. Nope. Not one bit.

“Uhh, hi.” Oh my God, that was up there with I carried a watermelon. “I didn’t mean that.”

His incredibly sexy grin widened. “You didn’t mean to say hi?”

I blinked. “No, of course I did.”

“Then I don’t see an issue.”

One of the partygoers knocked me off-balance—and right into Wilder. He caught me easily, his fingers flexing on my waist. I should have worn a thicker tank top—the silky material of this one let the heat from his hands right through to wake up every nerve ending in my skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning the full force of his incredibly blue eyes on me. Magnetic. Glorious. Hypnotizing. Those were all better words to describe the insane variations of color there, or the way he pinned me in place without a single ounce of effort.

My first impression had been right. He could probably make me come with one look…and that exact look was trained on me with all the accuracy of a guided missile straight to my thighs.

I didn’t believe in love at first sight. I wasn’t that stupid. But science? Chemistry? Pheromones? Yeah, lust at first encounter, I believed that all day long.

Words, Leah. Find them.

“Oh, you found your tutor,” Little John said with a slap on Wilder’s back. “We have to go soon, so get ready.”

Wilder stiffened and carefully set me away from him. “You’re Eleanor Baxter?”

“Leah,” I corrected him automatically and dug my thumbs into the belt loops of my jeans.

“Holy shit.” He closed his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I turned his words around on him.

He nodded, his eyes squeezed tight. “Just moving you out of the fuckable category in my brain. I’m going to need a minute.”

Wait. He had categories? Scrap that. I’d barely met the guy and he’s already friend-zoned me? Out of your league.

“Leah,” he said, opening his eyes with a slight smile, like he enjoyed saying it. “So what can I do for you?”

“You can explain why I’m in a crazy-huge suite that I can’t possibly afford and ask them to move me, since apparently you have the power over where I sleep.” I crossed my arms under my breasts, well aware that I was fidgeting.

“Oh, do I?” he asked with a suggestive smile.

Apparently friend-zone was still flirt-zone to him.

I tried to look over his shoulder but, realizing he was too tall for that, I peeked around his side at the collection of girls who might have had an entire outfit if you strung their clothes together. “Unfortunately. Look, I don’t mind tutoring you. I’m happy to do it to be in this program, but I can do it as effectively from deck four. I want my assigned room back. Now.”

His eyes widened. “You’re turning down the suite?”