by Gow, Kailin
“I like to cook.”
“Really?” My insides loosen as I relax into him.
“No.” The smile drops from his face as he shakes his head. “But I do like to eat— ice cream tops the list.”
“You like ice cream?” For some reason this dairy connection we’re experiencing makes my thighs tingle.
“Am I from the plant earth? Damn straight I like ice cream.” That hotter-than-hell smile appears and disappears.
He rounds out the counter and pulls a carton from the freezer.
“Vanilla okay?” His cheek slides up one side. “I’m boring that way.”
“Vanilla’s perfect. And you strike me as a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them.”
A part of me wants to bring up that kiss we shared—see if he wants another, but the aftertaste of desperation is already rising to the back of my throat like bile. Bryson kisses a lot of girls. I guess I was just one of them.
Bryson locks his eyes over mine as the grin slides down his face. He’s bearing into me, speaking in some code I can’t quite decipher. A static charge ignites the air between us as a smile tugs on his lips. His lids dip, and he’s bedroom eyeing me for a moment before taking a breath and snapping back to reality.
He quickly busies himself with the task of scooping us each a bowl of ice cream then lures me to the sofa.
“So”—I slide in next to him with my legs crossed beneath me—“what do you do for fun outside of the bars? From what I hear there’s a party on Greek row every night and twice on Sunday.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, again, I’m pretty boring. Once in a while I’ll tag along with your brother, but outside of work, there’s not much to me. I try to head home, once or twice a month. I like hanging out with my mom and sister.”
I melt a little on the inside. And here I thought he was this insatiable sex god. Well, he was until last weekend, but just the thought of him wanting to hang out with his family makes me want him twice as bad. I imagine his strong hot hands pouring over my body like oil. His heated kisses peppering my neck, behind my ear until he finally finds my lips, and I sigh with approval.
He gives a little smile, and my sweet spot clenches as if waving him in.
“That’s really nice.” I wish Bryson were some big bully who gave new meaning to fornicating frat boys everywhere, but, he’s not, he’s a downright nice guy who just so happens to keep a careful accounting of the girls he has his way with.
“You should meet my sister.” He tweaks my knee, and a fire rips up my leg, right to that secret place where no man has yet to venture, and my vagina drops to its knees, pleading for me to do something to usher this boy inside. “She’s awesome,” he continues. “And I know for a fact she’d love you.”
“Really?” If I didn’t know better I’d say it was a date—the meet the family rendition reserved for girlfriends the world over. “I would love to.” Me and my vagina, “Can’t wait.” His sister would love me? Sure wish her brother would. Maybe that’s what I want deep down inside, for Bryson Edwards to fall madly in love with me. My entire body tingles as if nodding in agreement.
My cheeks fill with heat at the idea, and I lower my gaze to the floor. I feel ridiculous just entertaining the idea of Bryson falling for me in that way.
“I’m headed home, weekend after next.” He strokes his hand over my thigh in a seemingly innocent pass, but my muscles tremble for him to continue. My nipples perk to attention in the event his fingers dare to venture north. “You want to come with me?”
A breath gets trapped in my throat while my heart tries to evict itself from my chest. He wasn’t asking the super model who likes to floss in delicate places to go home with him, or J-u-l-e-s from Alpha Chi Chi—he’s asking me. But, then again, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. He probably wants me to tag along as a play date for his sweet little sis while he and the super model bump and grind all weekend.
“I would love to go.” I hear myself say, and it sounds strange, foreign coming from my lips. Am I actually agreeing to go away with Bryson, whose penis has already qualified for the gynecological exploratory finals? Not that I wouldn’t mind him exploring my gynecological needs, and God knows I have them.
“Good.” He pushes into me, and this time our shoulders stay linked, forming a long line of heat that tunnels right down between my thighs.
He winces. “We might want to hold off on saying anything to Cole.” His brows tweak in the direction of my brother’s bedroom. “I think he’d rearrange my man parts if he knew.”
“I won’t say a word,” it comes from me slow, seductive. I can’t believe I’m going away for an entire weekend with the most gorgeous guy on campus—on the planet, Pluto included. “I kind of like the idea of having a secret from my brother.” I bat my lashes into him and note the silver shadow over my left eye. I reach up and pluck it off, and we share a quiet laugh.
We steady our gaze over one another, and the room stills around us. It’s as if a fire ignited, rippling its way across all four walls. It’s so damn hot that even the tank top and silly micro shorts I’m wearing feel like far too much to have on.
I lean in a little to see if he’ll give.
Bryson leans in, matching me inch for inch. His face is stone cold, but I can feel the wanting radiating off his skin like heat off a radiator grill.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. My nipples tighten as if balling themselves in two tiny fists as they cheer me on. The word please is just about to leap from my lips.
His mouth curves in a devilish grin. Something tells me he loves to see me beg.
A door rattles in the hall, and Bryson leans back, deep into the couch.
Cole’s blonde bimbo tiptoes to the bathroom wearing nothing but a tank top that she’s holding over her freshly spanked bottom. Swear to God she’s sporting a handprint on her left thigh.
No sign of my overprotective big bro. Clearly this was a false alarm. And now I’ll never get that kiss.
“Goodnight, Baya.” Bryson gives his signature sad smile as he taps the wall on his way to bed.
“Night.” I call after him unable to control my elation.
Bryson wants me to spend an entire weekend with him, and my girl parts and me are already counting down the days.
Bryson
Saturday afternoon, on what’s panning out to be the final weekend we might see the sun for the next ten months, Holt invites us out on his boat.
“Hey.” Cole nods over as I’m busy filling the cooler with water and beer. “Baya thinks she’s going.” He looks pissed at the thought.
“That’s because I invited her.” I took her to the Black Bear last night, and she wanted a kiss after closing again, but I kindly shut her down. I made up some crap excuse about having to work on some internship bullshit, and she bought it, mostly. The truth is, I wanted that kiss as bad as she did, if not more. I wanted to dive into her mouth and run my tongue over every inch of her body right there in the back of my truck if she’d let me, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’d take her down in grand style, and I’ll never be able to live with myself if I do. It’s not fair to Baya, and it’s not fair to Steph.
“Uninvite her.” Cole drills into me with those sage green eyes that he hooks the girls with. “I’ve got Taylor double D Diggs coming, and we both know she’s not shy about where she parties.”
“Sounds like your blowjob on the sea just got blown out of the water.”
“It’s a lake, moron.”
“You’re the moron. I’m not telling her she can’t go.”
Baya walks into the room with a hot pink bikini on and, holy shit, not one stitch more. Her tits melon out, nice and round, and her legs ride up from her high heels like two creamy stems that keep on going. I’ve ben jacking off in the shower every night this week thanks to the glorious stages of undress she’s been teasing me with, but she’s just taken my hard-on to a whole new level.
“It’s freezing out.” Cole snatches the towel from her hand and wraps it
around her body like he’s concealing criminal evidence. “Throw on some sweats or something. Would you?” He spins her toward the bathroom. “And a scarf and some gloves. You don’t want your fingers falling off.”
I give a little chuckle. I guess I’d feel the same way with Annie if the roles were reversed. Just the thought of Cole even looking at my sister that way gets my blood pumping. I’m starting to see his point—another good reason for me to stay the hell away from Baya Brighton.
An inferno scorches my insides at the thought.
I’m pretty sure the last thing I’m going to do voluntarily is stay away. The only thing I really want to do is be with her twenty-four seven. My heart aches because I’ve never felt that strongly about anyone before. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m hurting Steph all over again.
The lake is unseasonably warm. Holt has some girl in a G-string already seated on his lap. We exchange brief hellos as I walk down the dock. It’s not until I help Baya onto the boat that I notice there are three other girls laying out on the bow. Crap. The boat’s not that big. I was sort of hoping Holt and Cole would keep the girls to one a piece so Baya and I could team up by proxy and get a chance to talk.
We settle in and Baya does her best to fit in with the girls, but, for the most part, they seem to be ignoring the fact she’s politely peppering the conversation. It’s cool. I mean they don’t know her. So it’ll only make sense when I hang out with her. Cole can’t fault me for that.
We finally take off, and Holt settles the boat mid-lake before he starts dispensing beer bottles like they were oxygen tanks that everyone on board needed to survive. Baya passes, and I do, too. Funny how she hates the taste of liquor, and Cole seems to think it’s nectar from the gods. Baya and Cole seem to be opposite in just about every single way. It just goes to show how two people could be raised under the same roof and have a totally different outlook on things, sort of like Holt and me. It’s strange how Cole has never mentioned his father’s accident. It must have been a trauma. Speaking of traumas, Steph has eroded the inside of my brain every single day since that fateful night, and I don’t think Holt has thought of her twice since the incident. Holt had a Steph phase once, but you wouldn’t know it.
I head out to the bow, and the girls break out in a choir of catcalls. The sticky haze seeps over my skin as I shoot a quiet smile at Baya. She’s so beautiful. She makes every other girl on the boat evaporate in the fog around her. My heart thumps as I take her in.
“It’s time to get this party started!” Holt’s girlfriend for the afternoon turns up the radio full tilt as she and her friends strip down to their bathing suits—fuck—more like birthday suits.
I swallow hard—every single one of them has on a G-string.
Baya shoots me a look, and I hold out my hands a moment, trying to remove myself from the situation. If I knew a mass disrobing was about to take place I would never have come, and, for sure, I wouldn’t have brought Baya.
“Nice!” Cole slaps me on the back and pulls Taylor to the side while she eagerly works the button on his jeans.
Holt goes over and sits among the bevy of bronzed wannabe beauties and wraps his arms around two different girls.
Shit. This is turning into the love boat, and I’m betting Baya wishes she could abandon ship. I nod her over, and we sit at the wheel with Baya taking up the captain’s seat.
“So it’s a pleasure cruise.” She gives a sly smile, and I tick to life in my boxers. Baya is the hottest girl on the lake even with her Whitney Briggs sweats, her fresh scrubbed face, her cute as hell ponytail.
Cole lets out a serious groan, and Baya winces as if she were in real pain.
“Honest to God.” I hold up a hand. “If I knew, I never would have asked you.”
The smile slides off her face. Her eyes elongate in two perfect orbs.
“Please”—she shakes her head—“don’t let me stand in your way. Go on, help yourself to the buffet while I steer us into the nearest boulder.” She plucks a deck of playing cards off the dash and waves them in front of me. “Never mind. I found something to keep me busy. I’ll keep my hands off the wheel I promise.” She tries her best to shoo me away. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to babysit me.” It comes out curt, pissed as hell, as she shuffles the cards with a marked aggression.
“Hey”—I lay my hand over hers—“for the record, I wish it was just me and you on this boat.” Right now there is no greater truth. I lean in and whisper just over her ear. “I’m sorry I put you through this.”
Her jade eyes settle on mine, and I want to damn both Cole and any memory of the past to hell and kiss her right here.
“Nice try,” she whispers, laying out a row of cards in front of her. “I’ve seen the one in the red bikini blow you kisses twice. Now leave.” She nods over to the bow. “The last thing I want to do is get in the way of your tally marks.”
Baya blinks back tears, and my chest feels like it’s about to implode. Shit. In an effort to keep her heart safe, I’ve started to break it.
“What if I told you I wasn’t into tally marks anymore?” I lean in and hold her gaze.
Baya looks down at my lap like she’s fearing for the boys, then slowly rides her smoldering eyes toward mine. There’s a heat between us like I’ve never felt with anyone before, not the hundreds of girls that drifted through my bedroom, not with Steph, and I feel guilty as hell for even thinking it.
“No tally marks, huh? Switching to an electronic scoreboard?” Her lips twitch. “I bet there’s an app for that.”
“Nope.” I match her steady gaze and neither of us moves. “I think I’ll hold out for something better—someone special.”
“Someone special.” She swallows hard as her eyes expand at the idea.
I hope Baya knows she’s that someone special.
I think that’s exactly what I’m about to discover.
We play twenty-one for the next few hours. And I’m slowly starting to realize it’s Baya who’s quickly becoming the queen of my heart.
4
Into Your Arms
Baya
Alpha Chi is lit up like a haunted house against the backdrop of a veiled starry night. The ground clouds skirt the edges of the gargantuan McMansion, giving it that ethereal feel, and, suddenly, it looks as though I’m stepping into a dream.
“You sure you want to do this?” Laney reapplies her poppy red lipstick, never once taking her eyes off the overgrown estate.
“I’m positive. The sooner I can switch off the I-Wet-Dream-of-Jeanie show, the better. Besides, who wouldn’t want to live in a haunted mansion?” I pull her up the steps.
“I still think you’re making a really huge mistake. From what you said about this afternoon, you’re making some serious strides with your current roommate.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, Bryson is a nice guy. He probably just felt bad that I was the only girl on the boat who didn’t get the ‘wear your thong memo.’ Besides, I doubt a card game equals serious strides.” He never did mention that kiss—but, then again, neither did I.
Laney pulls me back by the shoulder and twists her crimson lips into me.
“You don’t believe that for a minute, and neither do I. Face it, that boy has a hard-on with your name on it. If Bryson Edwards said he wished you were the only two people on that boat, I’m betting he meant it. I don’t think he’s done a lot of articulating with the girls he’s been with. He’s more of a get right down to brass mattress tacks kind of guy.”
A spiral of heat spears through me at the idea of Bryson wanting me that way. I’ve yet to see his bedroom, but I totally envision a golden bed with a holy light emanating from above while a choir of angels sing a chorus of hallelujah.
“We’d better make this quick,” I whisper as we come upon the giant glass doors. “We’ve got a shift to pull in less than an hour.” Bryson asked if I wanted to work the Black Bear, and of course I said yes.
A crystal chandelier blossoms from the ceiling, and I p
eer inside before bothering to knock. Dark expansive floors bleed throughout the downstairs, and a navy carpet runs up the steps, held back with long, gilded bars. An entire crowd of girls have amassed in the great room just beyond the entry, and one of them spots us and motions us inside. They’re all dressed in black tea length dresses with their hair neatly coifed and… eerily they’re all wearing a single strand of pearls. Why do I feel like a sorority version of the clone wars is about to break out?
Laney leans in. “So if we make it, do we have to morph into an Alpha Chi-bot?”
“It’s the fashion camaraderie that links them together.” It looks more fashion jinx than link, but I keep the commentary to myself.
“I don’t know.” She shudders in her jean jacket. “Something about the blue oyster cult is really creeping me out.”
One of the walking pearls skips over in her heels, creating a grating sound over the floor. “Hi! I’m Lynn. Who’s your sponsor?” Her hair is curled under at the ears, and she’s in the requisite little black dress with discards from the ocean strung helpless around her neck. Suddenly I’m feeling a wee bit nervous because obviously I didn’t get the memo to get my pearls or my perky on—not that I own pearls, and God forbid that I own an ounce of perky.
“She’s mine!” Jules rushes over with her blonde mane perfectly twisted in stiff little ringlets.
“Oh my, gosh! You brought a friend!” She spasms over me as if Laney herself were manna from heaven. “Come, come.” She pulls us each by the hand and scuttles into the center of the room as if we were exhibit A and B.
