Selfie: Australian Heat, #2

By Leslie Johnson

Scorching hot with HEA

Hunter Cox is the hottest guy in our university campus. Everyone there has filthy fantasies about him.

So do I, but I can't actually admit to having them.

Because he pays me to tutor him.

When he stays over at my house one night, I can't help sneaking downstairs to take a peek at him.

But what happens next goes beyond anything I could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atrevida Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386982531

Book preview

Chapter 1

The night air felt cool on my skin. I laid down on the prickly grass in front of the university library and blinked at the stars, admiring their clear brilliance and wondering if they would look the same across the night skies of Los Angeles.

I certainly hoped they would.

For the first time in my life, I was leaving the land Down Under and heading to the city of my childhood dreams. There, I would see Hollywood actors and actresses in the flesh, standing and talking before my very eyes.

I couldn’t wait to leave for my exchange program next week.

A second-year English Lit major, I had applied for an exchange program and gotten my first college choice – UCLA. This meant an entire semester away from home. It would be the first time I would be living alone, without Mum and Dad.

It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time.

My blissful thoughts were soon interrupted by some jerk rudely kicking at my feet.

Hey, get up. I need to talk to you.

Frowning, I balanced myself on my elbows and glanced up. When I saw who it was, a deep blush spread across my cheeks.

Hi, Hunter. I breathed, running a hand through my tangled hair. It was Hunter Cox, a fellow student in several of my lit classes. He was probably the most popular guy in uni, and definitely the most gorgeous. All the girls I knew had a crush on him. So did I, but I couldn’t gush over him like those girls for one simple reason.

I was his tutor.

Well, maybe tutor wasn’t the right word. Because he had gotten barely passable grades in his classes (according to him, anyway), he had asked me to help him with his essays. Apparently, he’d heard from someone that I was a geek who always got high distinctions from the professors. That someone wasn’t completely wrong.

Unfortunately, help turned out to be writing his essay for him on more than one occasion. I had tried – really tried – to reprimand him for that, but there was a trick he would pull on me.

Hunter would lift his T-shirt up, revealing his sculpted abs, then yank it off completely. Once he saw me salivating, he would lean back in his chair, his light-brown hair all mussed up, and calmly repeat his question.

Can you write this essay for me? Please?

And I could never say no. But I was leaving Sydney next week, which meant I never had to write his stupid essays for him again.

It’s 9 p.m. on a Friday night. Why are you still out here? His green eyes sparkled with laughter. Or maybe that’s a dumb question. The library’s the love of your life, right?

I looked away, feeling embarrassed. Truth was, my social life sucked. For the past three semesters I’d been here, I hadn’t made many friends. Sure, I would talk to my classmates and sometimes have lunch with them, but our friendship never went beyond the campus grounds for some reason.

But it was all right. I would make new friends. American friends.

Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, I could ask you the same question. Why is Hunter Cox in front of the library on a Friday night?

He paused, gazing down at me. His expression turned serious.

I heard you’re leaving next week.

I nodded, wondering if he was saddened by the news.

Then who’s going to write my essays for me?

He was a little piece of shit. I rose to my feet, glaring up at his smirking face. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t so little. At six foot three, he stood head and shoulders above me. But that didn’t stop me from poking my index finger into his rock-hard chest.

Get someone else to write them, himbo. Or better yet, write your fricking essays yourself.

Hunter lifted a brow, clearly amused. Himbo? You think I’m good looking?

Stop fishing for compliments. Besides, you’re not my type. Liar! my inner voice shouted, but I kept my expression cool and unaffected.

His smile widened. And here I thought I was everyone’s type. Too bad. We could have had a beautiful thing together.

He was gorgeous and cruel, taunting me with possibilities that would never happen in my lifetime. Guys like him never dated girls like me. It was a truth I’d accepted a long time ago.

I shook my head in disgust and turned to leave. I have to go.

Wait. He grabbed my elbow and steered me toward a bench. After we sat down, he reached for his wallet and pulled out several fifties. I still owe you for the tutoring lessons.

Is this why you came to the library? I asked, pocketing the money.

He nodded. I knew I’d find you here.

An awkward silence fell between us, and I nervously dangled my feet back and forth. Hunter lowered his gaze, his eyes filling with a strange tenderness.

I used to know a girl in Year 7 who did that.

Instantly, I stilled my feet and jumped up. Thanks for the money. I really have to go. And without looking back, I power-walked down the path, itching to get away from Hunter’s presence.

Hey, geek. He called out.

I stopped in my tracks, turning around slowly. A part of me wondered if he would say that he’d miss me, or maybe he would ask me to friend him on Facebook. I glanced at him hopefully.

You’re a virgin, aren’t you?

And you’re a manwhore. I snapped back, then realized in dawning horror I’d pretty much admitted that, yes, I was still a virgin.

Hunter laughed, as though pleased by my defensive response. I’ll see you around, geek. Don’t disappear without saying goodbye, all right? After flashing me a gorgeous grin, he sauntered toward the noisy university pub just down the road.

Damn, I was so stupid. Why didn’t I play coy and say something along the lines of care to find out? But he had caught me off guard, and frankly, I was never very good at witty comebacks.

If he tells anyone I’m a virgin, I’ll hang, draw, and quarter him. Or better yet, I’ll get him expelled from uni.

Straightening my shoulders, I headed toward the bus stop, eager to reach home. For beautiful, popular people like Hunter, Friday nights might equal get drunk and get laid; but for me, Friday nights were movie night. Specifically, horror movie night. Mum and Dad had left for Melbourne in the afternoon to visit Grandma, so I had the whole house to myself for the entire weekend. I was going to order a BBQ chicken pizza, plonk down on the sofa with a cozy blanket, and binge-watch horror flicks all night long. It was going to be fun.

Forcing Hunter out of my mind, I hurried forward to join the weary commuters and students lining up to get on the bus.

Chapter 2

By the time I reached home, took a shower, and paid the delivery boy for my pizza, it was 10:30 p.m. With a happy sigh, I drew my fluffy blanket around my shoulders and settled on the sofa. The first movie of the night was Wrong Turn , a story about a group of gorgeous young things stuck in the creepy forests of West Virginia and running from deformed cannibals. I had seen this a dozen times already, but it was such a classic. Something about the mountainous terrain and the ominous things that lurked within always sent delicious chills down my spine.

Halfway through the film, as the hot twenty-somethings were escaping from the cannibals, hip hop music began blasting from my neighbor’s house across the street. I could feel the entire street throbbing with the intrusive bass.

Damn it, Wally, I muttered, putting the movie on pause. It was so typical that he was having another party tonight. I didn’t know him well, just that we were neighbors and went to the same uni. I did know, however, that he lived alone in that house despite having no job. He either had really rich parents that indulged him, or he paid his rent through drug money.

It was probably the drugs. The guy always seemed so stoned.

With an annoyed sigh, I stared up at the ceiling, debating whether I should go over and threaten to call the boys in blue.

Pffft. Who was I kidding? Of course I would.

After throwing the blanket off with exaggerated force, I stepped out of my house and power-walked across the street in my pajamas, swinging my arms to increase my speed. That alone probably burned a few calories off my hips, which was good; like a gluttonous fool, I had demolished my entire pizza during the first half of Wrong Turn even though I still had two more horror movies to watch.

Such was my life.

I reached over and aggressively poked the buzzer. Multiple times. When no one answered, I started banging on the door instead.

Wally, you bloody arse! It felt good to call him that, even though we weren’t friends. It wasn’t like anyone could hear me over the noise, anyway. Turn the music down, you loser. Or else I’m going to –

The door swung open, and the rest of that sentence died on my lips.

"What are you doing here? I asked indignantly, at the same time Hunter Cox asked in suspicion, What are those things on your nightie?"

Huh? I glanced down at my pajamas. What things? Momentarily distracted by his close proximity, I found myself blushing like an idiot.

Those weird patterns on your nightie, he insisted, pointing at my chest. They look like shiny penises.

They do not! I spluttered, growing even redder. They’re flesh-colored beans. Grandma bought these for me as a reminder to eat more beans.

That’s what she says. But I reckon Granny was trying to send you a kinky subliminal message. His eyes twinkled with mischief. Too bad you haven’t caught on yet.

This inappropriate conversation was distracting me from the real reason I’d come over. Look, just tell Wally to keep the music down, all right? I’m trying to watch a movie.

Hunter hollered something over his shoulder before returning his gaze to me. Dateless night?

My ire began to rise. What makes you say that? I could have a glistening, naked guy in my house right now, rolling on a condom as we speak. Ha. That doesn’t make me sound very virgin-like, does it, my mysterious eyes told him.

His jaw tightened, but his tone was casual. Is he from uni?

As a matter of fact, yes.

What’s his name?

Uh . . . Quick, think of someone! His name is Francesco Mercurio. He’s a performance studies major.

Hunter tilted his head, considering. Francesco Mercurio, he muttered, rolling the name on his tongue. Yeah, I know the guy.

I let out a small squeak of dismay.

In fact, we shared a class or two in our first year. He stepped forward and slammed the door shut behind him. Let me go over and say hi.

I grabbed his arm, but he just dragged me across the street. He’s naked, and you’ll only end up embarrassing him.

Embarrass Francesco Mercurio? An incredulous laugh erupted from him. The guy used to work as a part-time stripper at Kings Cross. Starred in several homemade pornos, too. So no, he won’t be embarrassed.

When we reached my house, I desperately stood between Hunter and the door. Okay, so I lied. He’s not in my house, naked and glistening.

That’s what I thought. He stepped closer to me, causing me to back into the door. Is that your fantasy, geek? He murmured, his warm breath in my ear. Having a naked man with a raging hard-on lying on your sofa, waiting for you?

I think my heart stopped beating for several seconds.

He pressed the length of his hard body on mine. Did you fantasize about me, geek? When you were tutoring me?

Of course I had. Most of the females on campus probably fantasized about him, some of the guys included. Why would I be any different?

When I didn’t respond, he ground his hips against me. I let out a small gasp. What was I doing to you? Was I devouring your mouth? Was I bending you over the desk? Did I rip your shirt open, taking your nipple into my mouth? His lush lips curled up, causing me to clench my fists. The arsehole was enjoying my discomfort!

I arranged my features into one of sheer boredom. You know, this is sexual harassment. You could get in trouble for this.

It’s not sexual harassment if you like it.

"Well, I don’t like it. So go away, why don’t you, and leave me to my ‘dateless’ night." I opened the door and was about to slam it in his face, but Hunter quickly nudged a foot in before I could.

Mind if I use the bathroom? I need to take a piss.

Rolling my eyes, I grudgingly opened the door a little wider. Fine. Just be quick about it.

I plopped down on the sofa and un-paused the movie, all pretense gone. It wasn’t like I wanted to impress him, anyway. With a happy sigh, I wrapped the blanket around me and watched as one of the hotties got an arrow in the back for his troubles. I shook my head in sorrow. The good, heroic ones always died first.

You enjoy this kind of stuff? Hunter plopped down beside me, and I jumped when his thigh brushed against mine.

I paused the movie again, turning to glare at him. What are you doing?

I don’t want to go back to Wally’s, and I’m too knackered to drive home. He grabbed the remote control, pressing the play button. Now be quiet, geek, and let me enjoy the movie.

Grumbling under my breath, I forced myself to watch as the cannibals dragged the dead hottie back to their dilapidated cabin. But my mind couldn’t get over the fact that Hunter Cox was actually sitting in my living room, watching a damn movie with me.

Chapter 3

It was 2 a.m. in the morning. I lay in bed, tossing and turning as sleep evaded me. It was hard to relax when Hunter Cox, the most desirable guy on campus, was sleeping downstairs in my very living room. It was madness.

After another ten minutes of tossing and turning, I decided to sneak downstairs to get a glass of water. And to take a peek at Hunter, of course. I had always wondered what he looked like when he slept. What did his hook-ups see after a night of amazing sex? Was he the snoring type, or did he sleep on his stomach?

Feeling like a total creep, I tiptoed downstairs, slipped into the kitchen to quench my thirst, and then much later, guiltily tiptoed into the living room to stare at Hunter Cox sprawled on my sofa.

He was even handsomer in his unconscious state, if that was possible. I knelt down quietly, studying the planes of his face, the stubble lining his strong jawline, the thick lashes fluttering slightly on his cheeks. How could a person be