by Rhonda James
Cage steps forward, taking my hand and raising it to his lips. “Call me Brantley.” He drops a kiss on the back of my hand and throws in another wink before Derek gives him a playful shove.
“Sure thing, Brantley,” I wink back, which elicits a predatory growl from the back of Derek’s throat.
“Okay, that’s enough winking.” He steps between us. “Cage, go find your own woman. Stop hitting on mine.” We all laugh, but I can’t help noticing the stern set of Derek’s jaw.
“Speaking of my woman, where’d that girl go?” Cage looks back to me. “Laney, it was a pleasure. Cassie wants to meet you. She’s looking forward to having another girl around the house, says there’s too much testosterone in here. Go figure.” He sticks out his tongue and makes a goofy face, then is quickly swallowed up by the crowd as he goes in search of her.
“Hey,” I reach up and give his chin a tug. “You okay? You know I was only joking, right? I wasn’t flirting with your friend.”
His eyes close, and he breathes out a long breath through his nose. Once he’s composed himself, he offers a pained smile as he curls a lock of my hair around his finger. “I know that.” I give him a dubious look. “Look, I know Cage is just fooling around, but watching you two made me feel things. Things I’ve never felt before.”
“What kind of things?” I ask curiously.
“Jealousy. Fear. Rage,” he admits.
“I understand the jealousy and rage. And don’t think I’m not flattered by that, because I am.” I lift up on the tips of my toes and press an innocent kiss to his full lips. “But why fear?”
His nostrils flare, and he speaks through clenched teeth. “Because seeing you with another guy makes me realize how easy it would be for someone to try and take what’s mine.”
“Hey. Nobody’s taking anything. I’m not going anywhere.” I bring my hand up to the side of his face and stroke a thumb over his cheek, hoping to comfort him. I’ve never given him any indication I may be interested in another man, yet I see the underlying fear in his eyes. It’s palpable. It’s right in front of me, and it kills me to think he may question my feelings for him.
I weave my fingers through his hair and pull his mouth to mine, craving the taste of him. The tip of my tongue caresses the seam of his lips, and he opens for me. My tongue lazily strokes the interior of his mouth, taking its time to explore the depths of the open space. He moans at my touch, burying his fingers in my hair to hold me in place. He kisses along my jaw and down my neck, pausing at the sweet spot just below my ear.
“I can’t wait until everyone’s gone and I have you all to myself,” he whispers through peppered kisses.
“Mmmm. Can’t we just tell them all to leave now?” I moan, loving the way his mouth feels on my heated skin.
“Patience, baby. But first, I need to introduce you to everyone.” He gives me a quick kiss then takes me by the hand and pulls me through the crowd.
***
Derek holds on to my arm and guides me around the room, introducing me as his girlfriend to everyone within earshot. When we locate Scott and Jordan, they encourage me to call them by their first names, just as Brantley has done. But Derek puts the kibosh on that by insisting I use their last names. Judging by the hard time they give him, it is clear Brantley has already told them about Derek’s jealous streak. Part of me wants to be offended by his caveman display of staking claim, but I kind of like the idea of him taking control. Most of the time we’re together, he’s sweet, and his words are often tender.
But in the bedroom… He takes control, and that is hot as fuck.
His friends seem to be really great. Jordan, oh my, what a sweetheart that one is. He comes across as this quiet, reserved guy, but beyond that, you just know there is more to him than he lets on. He has this olive skin tone that makes him look tan, even though it’s the middle of winter in the Midwest. He tells me about his mother’s Italian heritage, and we spend nearly ten minutes talking about our love of meatballs and tiramisu.
Scott seems to be more guarded, which means I need to look a little deeper to get a good read on him. I feel an instant connection with him because of it. One thing I notice immediately is that he takes his role of protective big brother very seriously. It is the one characteristic he wears openly. Derek told me a little about the riff that occurred after Scott learned Brantley was sleeping with his sister, Cassie. I guess things got pretty intense between the three of them. Derek said everything was fine now, but as we are talking I notice how every now and then, his gaze drifts over to where the two of them stand across the room. Every time Brantley’s hands roam a little too low, I catch the way his jaw tightens. I’m sure no one else pays attention to these small details, but over the last two years I perfected the art of people watching.
Watching from afar is a hell of a lot easier than trying to fit in.
At one point, a couple of guys from the team come and enlist Derek’s help in winning a game of beer pong. After making sure I will be okay on my own, and me promising I won’t ditch him to go back to the dorms, he follows them down to the basement to where the game is being played.
I wander into the kitchen in search of more beer. In the center of the room, on the floor, are four kegs sitting in large metal buckets filled with ice. Each keg contains a different brand of beer. During my first year at GLU, most of the parties I attended only offered one brand of beer, and it was usually the cheapest available. It seems as though Derek and his buddies have upped the ante on how to throw the best college party, which explains why the house is filled to capacity.
“There you are,” says a female voice I don’t recognize. I turn and find a familiar blue-eyed blonde standing before me, smiling. “Ugh. I’ve been trying all night to catch you alone, but Davis has been playing the bulldog and kept you on a tight leash.” She smiles so I can see she is only joking.
“You noticed that, huh?” I return the smile and extend my hand in greeting. “I’m Laney, you must be Cassie.” Disappointment mars her pretty features before she brushes my hand aside and pulls me in for a hug.
When we break apart, she offers a dimpled-smile. “Sorry, but I’ve been surrounded by entirely too much testosterone lately. Leave the handshakes and fist bumps to the guys. I prefer hugs.” She shrugs one delicate shoulder then steps around me and snags a red plastic cup. Once it’s filled, she turns and offers it to me. “Want one?”
“Um, sure. Thanks.” I toss my empty cup and take the one she is holding. Then I stand and watch while she repeats the process.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you here. Davis has been so happy these last two months. That’s all because of you, sweetie. It warms my heart to see it, because he’s a great guy.” She holds the beer to her lips and rocks forward on the balls of her feet, studying me. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
My hand trembles slightly, sloshing the beer around.
“Should I?” I ask, casually wrapping both hands around the cup for stability.
“We’re both in South Quad. Third floor.” She smiles again, and I recall a day when we passed each other on the stairwell.
“The stairwell? Now I remember.” I nod my head. “Funny it’s taken us so long to finally meet.”
“Well, you’re normally in such a rush to leave the building.” She laughs and I join her, nodding my head in agreement. “Besides, you never gave me the impression you were open to conversation.”
I cringe at her words. I can’t deny their truth. But they still make me cringe.
“Yeah, about that—I’m sorry. I just really suck at the whole friendship thing. Women are so catty. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep my head down and keep to myself.”
“No apology needed. I couldn’t agree more. I’ve been here since August, and I have one female friend.” She pauses a moment and then continues. “Two, now, counting you. I’d like to be your friend, Laney. If my intuition is correct, and it usually is, I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of
time together in this house.”
“I’d like that, too.” A smile spreads across my face, but it can’t rival the happiness I feel in the center of my chest.
A group of guys crowds around the kegs, jostling us out of the way as they laugh and fill their cups.
Cassie smiles and rolls her eyes then gestures for me to follow her downstairs. “Come with me.”
The basement is one large, open room with three doors located on the far end. Several futons and lawn chairs have been set up around the perimeter of the room, and in the center, four long tables have been placed for playing drinking games. Cassie directs me to an area of the room that is less crowded but still allows us to keep an eye on our guys.
“I have a question,” I speak loudly enough for her to hear me. “What made you start calling him B?” I direct my gaze to Brantley, and her eyes immediately follow.
“I’ve never really thought about it. Nicknames were always something I’d been used to. While I was growing up, Scotty and his friends used to always call me Blondie or Squirt. Not long after we met, I ran into Brantley at the bar, and he called me Dimples. So the next time we spoke, mind you it was via text, I called him B. Neither one of us complained, so the two names just sort of stuck. Unless I’m mad at him or caught up in the throes of passion, I rarely use his first name.” She shrugs as a warm smile fills her face. “Why do you ask?”
“A short time ago, Derek and I were talking about nicknames, and I realized I didn’t have a specific one for him. It seems sort of strange to give him one now, after all this time.”
“I know!” Her hand clamps around my wrist. “You should call him D. I’ve heard the guys call him that on occasion. It’s perfect, and it won’t be hard to get used to, because it’s already part of his name.” She smiles smugly at herself.
“I do like that. It’s simple without being too mushy or anything. I don’t think Derek, I mean D”—I correct myself—“would go for a nickname like schmoopy or boobear.” I laugh.
“God, no. He would sooner die.” She rolls her eyes dramatically and we both giggle. “D is perfect. B and D,” she says, testing it out. “You know, just between us, there’s a little phrase I use to let B know when I want to…you know.” Her eyes sparkle, and I lean closer, because I definitely want to hear this. “I just tell him I need my daily dose of vitamin B.” She smiles devilishly.
“And that works?” I ask amused.
“Every single time.”
“Vitamin D. I like that.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “We should totally make our own hashtags. I can picture it now: #vitaminB, #vitaminD, #thedailydose. And we could get t-shirts made with our guy’s hashtag that read Have you had your daily dose?” I bounce in my seat as I envision what it would look like.
“That would be pretty badass. We could walk around while everyone quietly wonders what the fuck our shirts mean, and the only ones who knew would be us.” Her eyes dance with excitement.
“Well, us and our guys. It’s even hotter when you think of it that way, right?” I add, and we burst into a fit of giggles.
Once we calm down, we sit and watch the guys as they play beer pong. They take turns fist bumping each other when the ball lands in the opposing player’s cup. A group of girls huddles close to where the guys are playing, and I can’t help noticing how relaxed Cassie appears, as if she isn’t threatened by the way those girls are watching our men. By the same token, I realize I feel the exact opposite. I’ve only been down here a few minutes, and I am ready to knock one bitch on her ass. I am dying to ask how she puts up with it. What is her secret? I mean, if this is how it will always be, then should I worry about what he does when no one else is around? The type of girls that hang around the players are clearly aggressive and seem to have no sense of pride, or shame for that matter. A few have gone so far as to hit on Derek while he was upstairs earlier, and I stood right beside him. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to put that girl in her place, but I’m afraid of making a scene the same night my boyfriend introduced me as his girl. Rather than react, I make a mental note of what each one look like and decide if I ever run into them outside of here, I’ll make sure they know exactly who I am and what I’ll do to them if they so much as hit on my man again.
“I swear these parties are getting old.” Cassie props her chin in her hand and surveys the room.
“You been to a lot of them?” I question.
“Only three, but it’s enough to make me want to throttle a few people.” She grunts and sits up straighter. “See those girls over there?” She raises the hand holding her beer and points a finger at two girls I remember seeing hanging around at practice two nights ago.
“Yeah,” I speak over the rim of my cup. “They were with a group of girls at the arena the other night.”
“Puck Bunnies,” she names them. “They go to all the games and hang around during practice with the hopes of connecting with one or more players. It’s disgusting. They have no shame, either. On their own, they’re pretty harmless, but those two right there, they lead the pack. And the one in the ponytail is their ringleader. That’s Stacy Preston, aka. biggest slut on campus. She’s slept with half the hockey team, and god only knows who else.” The look on her face tells me her hatred for this Stacy chick runs deep.
Bone deep.
If this girl truly has slept with half the team, maybe Derek was one of them. My gaze shifts to where Derek is standing, and sure enough, Stacy has managed to squeeze her way through the crowd. She tries pretending she is there to watch the game. But women’s intuition tells me better.
She isn’t watching the game.
She is watching him.
She must have said something to him, because he throws her a cheeky smile over his shoulder and says something that makes my skin prickle.
“Darlin’, you outta know by now I can handle it.”
Her laughter titters across the room and lands straight in the center of my chest. As his attention is turned back to the game, he catches me watching him. A frown passes over his face before he brings up his hand and crooks a finger, beckoning me to join him.
I hesitate, glancing at Cassie as my voice lowers. “You don’t think she and Derek—?“ I can’t bring myself to say the words. The thought alone makes me sick to my stomach.
“Can’t say for sure. But I know for a fact she slept with Brantley last year,” she states calmly.
“How the hell do you stay so calm when she’s standing that close to him?” I hiss.
“Let’s just say I told her what would happen if she ever tried coming back for seconds.” Her eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I see a flashing neon sign that tells me I better heed her advice and do the same.
And quickly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DEREK
Every one seems to be having a great time.
The house is packed. The beer is flowing. My girl showed up, and I finally got the chance to show her off. Of course, the guys decided to be assholes and act all sweet and even flirted with her. Told her to call them by their first names even after I introduced them by their last. They tried to act as if they wanted to get all personal and shit with her.
Oh, hells no.
I squashed that shit right away.
Later, she questioned why I acted the way I did. Please. As if she didn’t know. I saw the way she giggled, acting all shy when Cage pulled her in for one of his famous hugs. Dude may be my best friend, but he’s also the smoothest talker on campus. Every girl has fallen for his dark eyes and mega-watt smile at one time or another. I watched the two of them for a short time before I approached. I saw the flirty smile she gave him. Seeing that twisted me all up inside.
I want that smile to be mine and mine alone.
I took her around. Introduced her to the guys on the team. Kept my arm locked around her the whole time, too. The way they all looked at her had me wondering how many of them have gone to the club and watched her dance. How many had seen her round
ass and big, beautiful breasts? I’m willing to bet if I ask, not one of them will own up to it.
She stayed beside me, tucked perfectly under my arm as if she was made solely to fill that space. She kept one arm around my back, her thumb hooked on one of my belt loops, while the other hand was splayed over my stomach, just above my junk. She never gave any inclination of wanting to be anywhere else. But that didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in.
At one point, I couldn’t take it anymore. All the stares. The unspoken questions. It was time I put an end to all of it.
We were standing near the edge of the room and my hand was curled protectively around her hip. My thumb brushed back and forth, teasing the bare skin where her top had ridden up. She peered up at me through her dark lashes. Her bottom lip was drawn in, revealing the tiny separation between her two front teeth.
A minor imperfection to some.
I found it to be sexy as hell.
I saw that little imperfection and claimed her right then and there. Captured her mouth with mine and kissed her as if I owned her. My hands roamed her curves while my tongue explored the furthest depths of her eager mouth. I slid the tip of my tongue over the surface of every tooth, traced the curve of her tongue, tasted the plump flesh of her bottom lip. I used one of my hands to coax her hand lower until she was stroking the length of my stiff cock. I pulled my mouth away, and a loud moan fell from her kiss-swollen lips.
That sound was music to my ears.
I wanted every motherfucker in this place to know she was mine. Then I wanted them to go back and tell all their friends one thing.
Delaney Dixon is off-limits.
I seemed to feel better after that was taken care of. And Laney didn’t seem to mind me going all alpha-male on her. If she did, she never said anything. Shortly after that, Vickers came upstairs and roped me and Cage into participating in the beer pong tournament taking place in the basement. Laney didn’t seem upset that I was considering ditching her to go and drink beer with the guys, and after that kiss, I wasn’t worried about leaving her alone with anyone at this party.
