“Hey, you weren’t supposed to pay for that.”
“It’s totally fine.” Misty smiles, but it doesn’t light up her eyes.
I take her hand again. “Let’s go find some drinks, yeah?”
“Definitely.” We walk toward the house with Dylan and Bobby in tow, but when we reach the door, each of them sidle up next to us and I wonder if this is their way of telling people we’re with them. I assume it is. Another reminder of how out of practice I am.
We get drinks, vodka and Red Bull. Bobby points at a cabinet and tells us that’s where the good shit is.
“You know someone who lives here?” I ask.
“I live here,” Bobby chuckles.
“Oh.” Well, shit. “Interesting.”
“I can show you my room if you want.” He winks. “I’m not saying that as in let me show you my room and get naked, I truly mean I can show it to you.”
I laugh. “Thanks for clarifying.”
“Not that I’d be opposed to you getting naked.” He brings a finger up. “I’m just saying, I’m not a douche like that.”
“So what kind of douche are you like?” Misty asks. “Just so we’re clear.”
“I . . . ” Bobby lets out a soft laugh. “I totally set myself up for that one.”
“Shots,” Dylan shouts. A distraction. Bobby shoots him an appreciative smile. My sister and I roll our eyes and sip our vodka.
We take shots.
As we walk around the party, I spot Lawrence and stop breathing, stop walking, stop functioning.
“Oh shit,” Misty says behind me.
“Oh shit is right,” I say and Misty doesn’t even know about the freaking paper he wants me to sign. “Let’s go . . . ummm . . . ”
“Game room,” Bobby says, grabbing my hand. “Ex-boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of douche is he?”
“The worst one of all. The cheating, manipulating, asshole kind who’s about to get paid millions of dollars and knows it.”
“Damn.” Bobby laughs. “Note to self, don’t sign a million-dollar contract yet.”
“Your note to self should be don’t be an asshole manipulative cheater, but okay.” I sigh, glancing around.
We walk down three steps into a room that looks like a total mancave. Huge big screen TV, billiard table in the middle, and two table tennis tables that are currently being used for beer pong. I stop short when I spot Jagger, standing on the other side of the room. There’s a girl currently holding on to his arm, looking up at him as she speaks. He’s laughing, about to bring the beer bottle in his hand to his mouth when his eyes meet mine. My heart gallops. He takes a sip of his beer, still looking at me as the girl continues to talk to him, her hands still on him. His eyes lower to take me in slowly, and suddenly the tight, short dress I’m wearing makes me feel like I’m naked. His eyes stop at my waist, or I think it’s my waist, until I realize my hand is still holding Bobby’s. I don’t know why, but I let go quickly, as if caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing, which is dumb since Jagger has made it clear that we’re not serious and I can date other people if I want.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jagger
I’ve been watching Josephine play beer pong and flirt with Bobby for five minutes and already I can’t stand it. I could be petty and do the same with Cassidy, whose been trying to get in my pants since last year and hasn’t left my side the entire time I’ve been here, but I’m not a petty person. I don’t like mind games or wasting precious time. Maybe my first year, or my second, or even my third, but I’m not into the games anymore. I’m also not into fucking multiple women at once. At least, not anymore. Not after I finally had Jo again. Jo, who won’t even admit to herself that the reason she won’t allow me to fuck her in my bed is because I fucked other women there before her. I don’t make it a habit of guessing what people are feeling, but I know Jo and I know that’s the case here and from the way she keeps glancing over here and looking between me and Cassidy I also know she’s just as bothered by this as I am by seeing her with Bobby. The question is, will she do something about it? Will I?
“Are you going to start next week?” Cassidy asks. I tear my gaze from Jo’s and pay attention to Cassidy instead.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Is your shoulder still hurting?” She brings a hand up and touches my shoulder, doing a massaging motion. It feels good, so I let her continue.
“Sometimes. It depends on my movements.”
“Well, if you want to come upstairs with me, I’ll do all the work,” she says, lowering her voice as she pushes her chest against mine.
I smile because I can’t help it. Getting attention from beautiful women is something that I may be accustomed to, but it doesn’t mean it gets old, and Cassidy is a ten out of ten, with her curvaceous body and an ass that a Kardashian would pay for. I hold her gaze as I take another sip of my beer. I’m almost out and I’m on a two-beer limit, for no particular reason other than the fact that I know myself and pacing is everything during football season, which means I either get another beer or take Cassidy upstairs and let her ride me, which would make her year and my night. She’d be good in bed. That’s not even a question.
I’ve seen her dancing and I’ve heard enough from my teammate, Rodney, the backup quarterback, to know she’d be great, but she’s not Jo. It’s a stupid ass thought. Jo wouldn’t care if I took Cassidy upstairs. Still, the thought makes me glance over at her. I find that she’s openly staring at me. Her gaze lowered to the hand Cassidy is dragging down my torso and finally sets on the band of my jeans. Jo’s eyes flare. She looks up at my face. I raise an eyebrow, like does this bother you? What are you going to do about it? She seems to receive the message loud and clear and steps away from Bobby and walks over to me, her hips swinging with each step. I bite my lip, my mouth watering as I think about those hips, those thighs around my waist, that wet cunt squeezing my cock.
“Can I speak to you?” she asks when she reaches me. Cassidy drops her hand and steps back.
“I’ll be back.” I look at Cassidy.
“Sure.” She tries for a smile, but it’s shaky and unsure before she turns around to leave. “I’m going to grab a beer.”
“You having fun?” I look at Jo again.
“No.”
“No?” I chuckle, downing the last bit of beer before setting the bottle on the table beside me. “You looked like you were.”
“I want . . . I think we need to talk about our terms.”
“Our terms?”
“Can we go somewhere else?” She leans in slightly. “It’s loud in here.”
It’s not that loud in here. The DJ is set up in the living room, but if she wants more privacy, I’ll follow her.
“Lead the way.” I nod my head.
Josephine starts walking. First she goes toward the living room, but freezes and starts walking down the opposite hall instead. I contemplate whether or not I want to help her out, but decide I don’t want to make this easy for her and if I’m being really honest, I’m enjoying the view of her ass in that dress. She stops at the foot of the spiral stairs in the back and looks around for a second. There are people back here too, two different couples making out—two guys on one side and a guy and a girl on the other. I stare at Jo, wondering what her play will be. None of these people will care if we talk here. They haven’t looked up at all. Josephine doesn’t seem to want any kind of audience though, and starts walking up the stairs. I bite my lip to keep from groaning when I look up and see her black thong. I follow her up the stairs, but there’s no silence. Instead of going back downstairs or trying one of the rooms, she pulls me into the bathroom. I stifle a smile as she locks the door behind us, then lean against the counter and cross my arms as I wait, but she doesn’t speak, instead she walks over to check behind the curtain and walks back slowly.
“Is this private enough for you?” I ask.
She gives a nod, no humor in her
expression, and stands in front of me with her arms crossed across her chest. “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”
“What?” I let out a soft chuckle.
“I don’t want you to sleep with other people,” she repeats.
“I thought you wanted casual?” I ask slowly, searching her hazel eyes.
“I do.” She licks her lips. “But I don’t like the idea of sharing.”
“And this rule extends to you as well?” My heart thunders in my ears. It’s taking all the restraint I have to not pull her into my arms and kiss her right now. “You won’t sleep with anyone else?”
“I won’t.”
“Does Bobby know that?”
“I’ll make sure to tell him.”
“What’s brought this on?” I ask even though I know the answer, but I want to hear her say it.
“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.” She shrugs a shoulder, uncrossing her arms. So she’s not going to say it. I bite back a smile. “So do you agree?”
“I’m going to need to think about it.” It’s a lie.
I don’t need to think about it. I’m hers. I’ve been hers for a long time, even though she doesn’t know it, but I want her to sweat this out a little. Maybe I am petty after all.
“Okay.” She swallows and glances away. “Let me know when you know.”
I uncross my arms and widen my stance slightly, reaching for her. She looks at me, wide-eyed, as she steps between my legs.
“I thought about it,” I say, bringing a hand up to cup her face, my thumb underneath her chin as I bring her lips closer to mine. “I choose you.”
I see the moment something inside of her shifts, the way her eyes widen a bit, the flush that paints her already colored cheeks. Her lips part just before I set mine on hers and her tongue finds mine quickly. My heart races. It’s not just that I’ve had a crush on Jo for as long as I can remember. It’s not just that ever since that night we hooked up when we were both freshmen I’ve fantasized about her. Both of those things are true, yes, but it’s more than that. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Even my first girlfriend, who I compared the rest to for a while, pales in comparison to what I feel when Jo and I kiss, when we touch, when we fuck.
It’s as though she’s painted the grey world I lived in. She’s still kissing me as she reaches for the hem of my T-shirt, pulling away slightly to take it off me. She slows as she reaches my shoulder and carefully pulls it over my head, placing it on the counter behind me. Her eyes rake over my body hungrily. It’s a look I’ve seen a million times, but when Jo does it, damn. I let her take the lead in this, reveling in the fact that she wants me this badly. She kisses my neck and works her way down my torso, my abdomen contracting with each lick. When she reaches the waistband of my jeans, she stops and looks up, and I swear I have never seen anything hotter than Josephine Canó crouching between my legs. She unbuttons my jeans, frees my cock, which is already hard for her, and licks from my shaft to the tip. My head falls back. Instinctively, I grip a fistful of her hair in my hand as she continues to lick before covering the head of my cock with her mouth. It takes everything for me to open my eyes and look down on her, but I want to see this, I want to remember this moment for all of eternity. When I’m eighty, I’m going to close my eyes and think about Josephine, my wet dream, sucking my dick at a frat party. I let her do this for a few seconds before gripping her hair and pulling her away because the need to bury myself inside her is too great. She stands up, a fire in her eyes that can only match mine, and I turn her around so that she’s facing the mirror. I lean down to run my hands up her legs and meet her gaze in the mirror when I reach the short dress she’s wearing.
“Did you wear this for him?”
She swallows, shaking her head.
“For me?” I raise an eyebrow, hiking her dress up slowly until her ass is exposed. She’s wearing a black thong that I take a step back to appreciate before I’m on her again, squeezing her ass in my hands.
“I wore it for me,” she says, her voice a whisper. “But I was hoping you’d see me in it.”
“For what? So I could go fucking crazy?” I bring a hand around her waist and tuck my hand into her thong, resisting the urge to groan as my fingers find her pussy slick, ready, wanting.
She shudders as I touch her folds. Bites her lip as I play with her swollen clit. She keeps her eyes on mine though. I’ve had sex with a lot of women, but this experience is by far the most erotic.
“Did you think I’d do this?” I lean in and bite the shell of her ear, my fingers still moving on her clit, her folds, spreading her wetness. “Did you think I’d fuck you at this frat party tonight?”
“No,” she says, a shaky sigh as she grinds her hips against my hand.
“Did you think I’d just let you walk out of here without having your pussy? Without burying myself so deep inside you that you’d struggle to walk afterwards without thinking of me?”
“Oh God,” she breathes as she comes on my fingers.
It’s what makes me come undone. I pull down my pants until they’re around my knees, roll a condom on quickly, and impale her. She yelps. When I thrust into her again, bringing my hands to her chest, pulling down her dress so that her breasts are exposed, I tweak her nipples in my fingers. She yells out my name. I thrust harder, deeper, tugging her nipples and moving inside her until she’s squirming, coming around my cock with a grip that squeezes and makes me start coming as well.
When we finish, we clean up and get dressed. I wait for her to turn to me again and hate how she’s trying not to meet my eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” I cup her face and make her look at me. “You’re fucking perfect, Jo.”
“So are you.” She bites her lip after she says it, bashful and cute as hell.
I kiss her then, a long, languid kiss that makes my heart double in speed. It makes me feel like I’m on the field running to catch one of Jamal’s perfect passes, like I’m scoring a touchdown for my team and everyone’s cheering for me from the stands. It’s enough to scare me a little, because even as I pull away and look down at her, I know I’m fucked. We walk downstairs holding hands and head to the door, ready to leave. Misty tells us she’s going to stay with a friend of hers who’s there, and Jo seems to feel comfortable with it because she kisses her sister and the friend on the cheek and takes my hand again. As we walk out, I spot Lawrence looking at us with a frown on his face. I don’t know if he’s jealous or feels like the ultimate loser for letting Jo go, but it’s my turn to smirk at him.
She’s mine now, asshole.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jo
I wake up to find Jagger still sleeping beside me and I realize that he never left my bed. My heart swells, but it’s a fleeting emotion that’s quickly replaced with fear. I hate that my past relationship has made me this unsure person that I never was before. I watch the slow rise of his chest as he sleeps and realize that it’s better this way. I can’t afford to fall for Jagger. Just because he agreed to be exclusive on the sex front doesn’t mean he wants something more with me. I think about Jessa and the way she cried that night because he wouldn’t make her his girlfriend and turn away from him as I get up to use the bathroom. If he didn’t want to take things to the next level with her, why would he with me, with anyone? From my understanding, Jessa wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that he truly doesn’t want something serious. In that regard, not much has changed from four years ago.
“I don’t want a serious relationship,” was what I heard him say to Maverick. “I want the college experience.”
And that was after we slept together. After I lost my virginity to him. I push that thought away. I’d never seen my virginity as something to worship. It was just something I stayed with longer than I thought I would. I respect that about Jagger though. He’s never made promises he couldn’t keep and I’m grateful that he’s always been up front about things like that. My cell phone vibrates on the counter
as I’m finishing brushing my teeth. Lawrence’s face appears in my line of vision and I instantly feel queasy, but I answer the call.
“I’m outside your house.”
“What?” my voice comes out louder than I intend. “Why?”
“Because I need to talk to you.” He sighs heavily.
“I’ll be right out.” I hang up the phone and go back to my room and grab a T-shirt and sweats, pulling them on quickly.
“Why are you in such a rush?” Jagger mumbles from bed. “It’s Sunday.”
“I just . . . I have to take care of something. Go back to sleep.” I rush out of the room and jog to the front of the house, stepping outside before either Jagger has a chance to stand up and follow or Lawrence rings the doorbell.
I freeze when I turn around and find Lawrence standing there, with his hands in his pockets. His blond hair is longer now, the straight strands tucked behind his ears, those clear blue eyes I used to get lost in are looking at me, but I realize that I feel . . . nothing. It’s that realization that makes me walk down the steps until I reach him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He rocks slightly. “So . . . you and Jagger, huh?”
I open my mouth to tell him it’s not serious, but instead I give a nod. I don’t owe Lawrence an explanation.
“So you’re definitely over me,” he says.
The Heartbreaker Page 13
