He was wearing nothing but a pair of snug-fitting jeans, his strong chest and arms bare, the sheen of sweat covering it glistening in the sun, just enough to accentuate every ripple of muscle he had exposed.

Oh. My. God.

I chewed at my lip and attempted to look away, but my gaze was all tangled with his, locked up and wrenched tight with the eyes that seemed to be holding all of my functions hostage—eyes that were narrowed and burning with curiosity.

A lump grew in my throat.

Did he recognize me?

Shame scorched me all the way to my core.

Still I couldn’t look away.

Without taking his gaze from me, he pulled himself from under the hood. He grabbed a rag as he propped his hip up on the edge of his car, meticulous as he began to wipe the grease from his hands.

Seconds passed, or maybe hours, I wasn’t sure, everything a blur as my body waged a war with my mind, every rational thought I had sent to slay the fearful fascination this stranger sent speeding through my veins. Just looking at him had set the million butterflies that had lain dormant in my stomach scattering. They fluttered fast, teasing me with the unwanted attraction my traitor body was giving in to with just a glimpse of a cute boy.

Cute boy.

Ha.

This guy . . . man . . . whatever you wanted to call him . . . wasn’t cute.

He looked like some sort of avenging angel. Too beautiful to be real. Maybe he was here to collect my soul, to make me pay for the sins Hunter had led me into.

Those butterflies dipped and dove when he spoke, his voice deep and rough, no doubt created for the sole purpose of enticing guileless girls into temptation. “So, are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day, or are you going to introduce yourself?”

Flustered, I shook my head, blinking as I took a stumbling step away from him, my mouth dropping open just a little more.

I spent a dumbfounded moment trying to process his words.

Did he really just say what I think he did?

What an arrogant jerk.

“I think you have a little something . . . right here,” he continued. With his index finger, he tapped at the cocky, curled-up edge of his lips, teasing me as he wiped the imaginary drool from the corner of his mouth. His taunting touch left behind a smudge of grease on his gorgeous face.

Dirty.

That thought ratcheted up my confusion a thousandfold, just like that wrench he’d been wielding against the bolt in the engine of his car. I was pretty sure this guy could twist me so tight he’d strip me bare.

I’d been screwed enough. Not again.

“Y-y-you were looking first,” I stammered over the lame defense, my voice strained and sounding a little too much like a petulant child’s.

Damn it! He had me hot and bothered in places I didn’t even know existed.

His head tipped to the side, tossing locks of his dark brown hair around his face. Then he shrugged. There was nothing I could do to stop my eyes from traveling to the defined planes of his chest.

I swallowed hard and tried to get my bearings.

Oh man, oh man, oh man. Not good.

It was like the bait that lured prey to the sharp teeth of a trap, too tempting to resist. Everything about the movement was predatory.

I could almost smell him, all man and grease and sex.

“So what if I was?” he asked, nonchalant, that rough voice tossing the contention out without the slightest hint of shame. He cocked an eyebrow as his eyes made a slow pass down my body.

I almost gasped in relief when he released me from the chains of his stare. Of course, he just dragged his attention right back up, and those searing eyes made me their prisoner again.

“You did look at yourself in the mirror this morning, didn’t you? You can hardly blame me.”

Redness bloomed hot and fast, and I let my hair fall in my face, obstructing the reaction I had to this boy.

Er . . . man or god or whatever he was.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I refused to take his grimy come-on as a compliment.

I wanted to stomp my foot and tell him so. Instead I just stood there with my mouth still hanging open like some kind of blubbering fool.

He pushed himself from his car.

Panic thudded my pulse.

I wasn’t sure I could handle this guy getting any closer than he already was.

His expression shifted again, his head steadily drifting to the side as he approached, like he was doing his best to dig around in my thoughts.

I wasn’t letting him go there. Instead I dug around in myself for courage, lifting my trembling chin as if I were brave instead of the shivering coward I felt like.

“Do you really need an introduction?” I asked with almost a sneer. “Figured you’d already know who I am.” Spitting out those words took up the last of my pride, and I was suddenly feeling like a fraud, saying things like someone I was not. My eyes flew to the ground, and I studied a weed growing up through a crack in the pathway as I said a silent prayer that he didn’t know. Obviously I didn’t want anyone to know, this blight something I wished I could obliterate from history.

But him?

Something inside me twisted. I would do anything to be spared that humiliation.

I peeked up through the veil of my hair when I noticed him gesture behind me. That mischief was back in his eyes, only this time it was lighter, like their potency was no longer a threat. He grinned. “I’m no genius, but based on the fact that you just came out of that house wearing a backpack on the first day of classes, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’re one of my new neighbors.”

He’d turned casual, which was about the last thing I was feeling.

“But do you know my name?” I demanded, my hand curling into a fist at my side.

Do you know my face? was what I was really asking, almost begging him to relieve me of the burden.

“Well, let’s see . . . Kier filled me in on all the neighbors.” He lifted his gaze to the sky, as if he were thinking back to their conversation.

Kier was one of the guys who lived next door, quiet, nice. I’d always liked him. I was close to feeling relieved, because I felt almost positive he wouldn’t divulge my secret.

New guy raised his hand and lifted his index finger. “Chloe.” He held up a second. “Indy.” He continued on, checking off all of us girls. “Misha and Courtney.” A smirk twisted up one side of his mouth. “Guess I’d feel pretty confident betting on the fact that you belong to one of those names.”

Discomfort shifted my feet, and I finally forced my name around the lump this guy had seemed to permanently wedge at the base of my throat. “M-M-Misha.” I tucked an errant curl blowing around in my face behind my ear, my nod shy and unsure. “I’m M-M-Misha. Misha Crosse.”

His eyes narrowed again, studying. Then he shook his head, raking his plump bottom lip between his teeth. He freed it with an easy smile.

Dear Lord.

“Darryn. Darryn Wild.” He stuck his hand out between us. I eyed it warily. Those bells were ringing. Don’t touch. Off-limits. Danger.

But he was smiling this cute smile, and my hand tingled, twitching toward his. What could a handshake hurt?

“Oh, come on, Misha, I know you want to touch me.” This time, he didn’t touch the corner of his mouth but reached out to touch mine.

Shivers raced down my spine and sent something tumbling around in my stomach that I didn’t want to recognize, and I prayed another prayer that the drool he lifted from my face was imaginary, too.

At this point, I wasn’t so sure.

Fantastic. The guys next door had just traded one asshole for another. And to think for a second I’d almost been duped into thinking he was nice.

I didn’t like it, didn’t like thinking this jerk was sleeping in Hunter’s room, didn’t like his things there or his thoughts there or his ripped, muscled body stretched out like Satan’s seduction across that bed.