Her sour tone hit me the wrong way, and I frowned. “You told me that before. What happened?”

“What makes you think something happened?”

“Besides the fact that you answered my question with a question, which is something you do when you don’t want to answer?”

She sighed. “One of the athletes assigned to me flirted mercilessly. I thought he was interested—he wanted me to think he was interested—but it was a scam. After a couple weeks of being together, he started asking me for little favors. Can you edit this paper? Oh, it needs a few more paragraphs, can you take care of that for me? My lab write-up is due tomorrow and I have practice…”

I reached over and took her hand, stroking her inner wrist. “Who was he?”

Her jaw clenched, and for a second, I wasn’t sure she’d answer me. “A soccer player who graduated last year.”

“He sounds like an asshole.”

Nadia stared down at our hands in her lap. “Yeah. I’m not entirely stupid. I broke it off, and he laughed when I accused him of taking advantage of my feelings for him. He said too bad because he’d have liked to ‘hit that’—his words—before finding a new tutor. When I brought it up to my supervisor, I was reprimanded for dating a client.”

Fury made my stomach clench, but I kept my grip gentle as I tipped her chin toward me. “You are not at fault here.”

A tiny smile played at her lips. “I know.”

I rubbed my thumb over her bottom lip. “Does it make me an asshole if I want to make you forget all about him?”

“No,” she breathed, leaning into me.

I brushed my mouth over hers, teasing her until she came the rest of the way. Like in the film room, she straddled my lap, but this time, I had something else in mind. I held her tightly and pivoted to lay her across the couch under me. Nadia growled her approval and curled her leg around my hip.

She arched against me, a slow roll of temptation, and I devoured her mouth the way I’d wanted to in the gym. Impatient to taste the rest of her, I balled her shirt in my fist and kissed my way down her neck.

Nadia’s hands closed in my hair, but before I could do more than run my tongue down her stomach, we were interrupted by the jingle of keys hitting concrete outside the door, followed by some creative cursing.

“Dammit.” Nadia pushed on my chest until I sat up, bringing her with me.

She pulled her top back into place just as the door opened to a tall, harried woman wearing running shorts and a shirt from the local brewery. Abbey—who else could she be?—stopped short when she noticed us on the couch.