Besides getting him hot.
His gaze took in her softened features. She hadn’t changed. Dark hair with burgundy highlights was swept back from her high forehead and fell in long silky waves to her shoulders. She used to wear it scooped up in a no-nonsense ponytail that bobbed when she walked. Her face was well-defined, which made for an arresting vision that held a man’s attention and entranced him to look deeper. He remembered eyes the color of a soft violet, snapping with command and control. Her lips were thin but perfectly formed to a bow shape. Her jaw was too square, her cheekbones too blunt, her nose too sharp, her brows too arched. But all the features put together made her impossible to ignore.
Just as she liked it.
They’d shared a dormitory at Cornell for four years. He still pictured the way she marched down the hallways, backpack swinging, gaze directed ahead with a tunnel vision no beginning college students exhibited. She avoided sororities, beer pong parties, sporting events, and generally any social activity where there was alcohol, sex, and distraction. She graduated with a double major in business management and marketing, a minor in English, worked for the Junior Executive League, school newspaper, and published three articles in featured mass-market magazines.
She was a force of nature, but Dylan suspected underneath she was one big hot mess. Total control freak meets uptight workaholic. They’d almost killed each other when Professor Tagg paired them for the final project in sophomore year. Fifty percent of their grade and he almost quit. Almost.
He was too stubborn to let her win.
Even more so because of the heat between them.
Dylan shook his head at the memory. Unbelievable. One moment he wanted to strangle her, the next back her up against the wall, release the ponytail, and strip off that white prim blouse she always favored. It was almost as if the fighting was a crazy form of foreplay, but she’d die rather than admit it.
So would he.
Still, he’d fantasized that he could push her proper boundaries to make her scream. Beg. Come. For him.
His dick hardened but he shook it off and began pacing. Why the hell did it have to be Riley Fox to turn him into a horn dog? He had tons of money, a good disposition, looks, and a sense of humor. He’d dated so many women it must be in the triple digits, bedded many along the way, and not once had he found the lightning strike.
Maybe he never would.
But already, the air hummed like a live presence, and his blood warmed in his veins. Her scent swam in his nostrils and in his memory. Oranges and jasmine. Some intoxicating mingle of images involving juicy, ripe fruit trickling down his chin, soft floral blossoms, and pure sweetness.
The ridiculous poetry of his thoughts made him groan. Stupid. Her presence just brought back memories and surprised him. The moment she opened her mouth he’d be reminded of their inability to get through a two-minute conversation without wanting to kill each other.
She stirred in her sleep. Dylan walked back over and stared down at her. Was she sleeping too long? Should he wake her? He cursed under his breath and decided to shake her gently. Maybe help her along. He reached over.
Her eyes flew open.
Dylan jerked back from the sudden awakening like a vampire in a coffin. He watched her gorgeous eyes flicker, obviously trying to remember where she was and what had happened. He opened his mouth to calm her. Explain what happened in a soothing voice so she didn’t freak out on him.
He never got a chance.
She shot up to a sitting position, hair sliding over one eye, a scowl marring her brows. Her mouth twisted as if she’d either tasted or smelled something bad.
“You.”
Her voice slammed him with disdain and ice.
And just like that, Dylan was back in college with a woman who’d pushed every single button he owned and a few he never knew he had.
He treated her to a slow, insolent smile.
“Hey, darlin’. Long time, no see.”
The fury on her face from the familiar greeting made him feel a hell of a lot better.
Yeah. Maybe this would be more fun than he expected.
When Riley woke, she was struck by blinding white.
At first, she thought she’d died. Heaven was really pretty in a clean Rachel Zoe way. The vaulted ceiling, walls, and lush shag carpet were pure white. An elaborate four-tier chandelier dripped crystals and pearls, adding to the effect of elegance. A huge fireplace framed in marble took up the far end of the room. The sound of snapping logs drifted in the air. She rolled to her side and noticed she lay on a long white sofa, with matching wing chairs of the same color. At least heaven was color coordinated. She’d be so disappointed to be stuck in tie-dye.
Her gaze rose and collided with a pair of stunning eyes. One pure blue. The other a rich brown. A memory deep inside unfurled, and heat bloomed in her belly, spreading through her veins. Impossible. She knew this man.