Red-faced, I turn back around and get him his water, glad for the cool respite that the opened refrigerator door offers.
“Here you go.” I can’t peel my eyes away from his mouth as he moves the bottle to his lips. They are perfect—beautiful and full in a completely masculine way. I watch, completely fascinated, as his throat moves, downing the water in three or four large gulps. He wipes his mouth with his forearm, and I can’t help but let my eyes travel up the rest of his arm to his biceps and shoulders. Those are the same as his lips—perfect. Amazingly, gorgeously, utterly, divinely perfect. Muscled and tanned, his arms are mouthwatering.
My knees wobble. My heart thuds. Thousands of butterflies spread their wings in my belly.
I’ve never felt like this before, even with Jay. I’m caught completely off guard.
“Thanks . . .” He stares blankly at my face for a minute, and I can’t help but wonder if he likes what he’s seeing. He clears his throat and rouses me from my little daydream where the gorgeous boy is mesmerized by the maybe-a-little-above-average-looking girl. That’s when I realize he is asking for my name.
“Maddy. Sorry, my name’s Maddy.” I nearly choke on my tongue over my freaking name.
Dork.
When I regain the ability to speak like a normal human being, I continue, “My suite mate Cammie is dating one of the guys who live here.” My mouth goes dry and it takes a monumental effort to even get those simple words out.
He just nods in return and pushes past me to grab another bottle of water. He is covered in sweat, and when he brushes my arm, he gets some on me. I am not grossed out; in fact, suddenly I wish he would get me all sweaty in an entirely different way. He’s obviously just finished working out. He is wearing a lightweight gray T-shirt and black mesh shorts, and even though he is drenched in sweat, he smells delicious. He is that divine combination of sweat and cologne and man that I’m pretty sure every woman swoons over.
The silence is killing me, so as he’s chugging down his second bottle of water, I wiggle my bottle in front of me and say, “I’m not that much of a drinker, so I hope you don’t mind if I steal one of these from you?”
“Help yourself. It’s just water. I’m going to go grab a shower. Maybe I’ll see you later, Maddy.”
And with that he is gone. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind watching him leave—his back is just as glorious as his front—absolutely yummy, but I wouldn’t have minded talking, or, um, staring, just a little longer. Knowing his name would have been nice, but seeing as he said he was going to grab a shower, he must live here. So his name was either Logan or Reid.
I go back outside as the girls are mid-laugh about something Jack is telling them. Melanie immediately notices the blush on my face. “Are you okay, Maddy? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m good. It’s just a little hot and crowded in there.”
Like six feet, two inches of solid, gorgeous, beautiful man hot and crowded.
I keep that to myself, though.
“Come on, girls, let’s go dance!” Lia, bubbly as ever, is in full-on party mode. She drags us back into the living room, changes the music to some techno dance beat, and starts moving. It’s hard not to follow her lead. She is just so much fun.
We really get into it, too. The party is in full swing, and Cammie, Lia, Mel, and I are having so much fun in our small dance group that I don’t really care that I’m not drunk like the rest of the people there. I promised myself that I would choose to be happy, and that is exactly what I am doing. I dance and dance and dance. My arms swing over my head in a languorous, smooth movement as my hips move to the beat. As I turn around, I look over at the stairs, where mystery man from earlier is walking down.
I lean into Cammie’s ear and try to keep my voice low so no one can hear me, though I’m sure the music does a good job of drowning out my question.
“Who is that, Cam? I talked to him earlier, but I didn’t catch his name. I figured it was either Logan or Reid since he said he was grabbing a shower, but he never told me.”
Cammie’s lips curve up into a knowing smile as she starts to respond to my question. “That, my dear, is Reid. I told you Jack’s housemates are easy on the eyes! He’s delish, right? Logan won’t be here tonight. He’s got a mandatory study session and then films for football.”
“Delish” does not even begin to cover it. I thought Jay was good-looking, but Reid puts him to shame. Reid is the epitome of tall, dark, and fucking amazingly handsome. And even that description doesn’t seem to cut it.
Based on his attire from earlier, it is clear that he works out, but his body seems even more defined in the fitted black tee and loose, but not-too-loose, faded jeans he is currently wearing. His all-over-the-place, messily styled medium brown hair is still a little wet from his shower, and I can see a few droplets of water on his neck. Lucky water droplets. I want to lick them up.
He catches me staring and shoots me a quick look of recognition and a brief nod—so calm and cool, when I am over here stifling the urge to jump up and down, flailing my arms to get him to come over to me. I maintain my cool, though, and just keep dancing, my inner voice telling me that it would be so very lame to be “that girl” at my first party.
An hour or so and who knows how many dances later, and my feet are killing me. I am ready to call it quits when I feel hands grab at my waist from behind. I can’t see who it is initially, but I can tell just from the smell; it isn’t as sweaty as it was earlier, but it is the same combination of cologne and man, with the new addition of body wash, that makes me give my thighs a tight squeeze.
“I think you owe me a dance.” His warm breath on my neck makes my legs turn to Jell-O and my heart thud in my chest.
“Owe you? For what?” My voice sounds breathy even to me.
He spins me around so that we are face to face. “For the water, of course,” he says.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. . . .” My voice trails off, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. A gorgeous little smile. Call me crazy, but the look in his eyes is one of flirtation. Reid is flirting with me. Well, color me confused!
“It’s okay, Maddy. I’m kidding. C’mon, let’s dance a little.” His voice relaxes me a little, but my heart refuses to beat anything other than a furious tattoo against my ribs.
The bastard is laughing at me. Well, you want to dish it out, I’ll dish it right back. I lower my lids to a sexy, sultry look, wrap my hand around his neck, and bring his ear to my lips. Without a centimeter of space between us, I murmur, “I could pay you back with more than a dance, Reid.”
I place my hands on his chest and push back just slightly. I see his pupils dilate and hear the hitch in his breath. Score one for Maddy!
“So you did a little digging, huh?”
I’m pretty sure my face conveys my confusion, as my brows are furrowed. Digging? Huh?
“My name—you just had to find out who I am, didn’t you?” He is amused and playing along.
“Of course I dug. I needed to know who was responsible for getting me all hot and sweaty before.” I realize my error as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
“So I got you all hot and bothered, hmm? Let’s see if I can do it again.” With that, he grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor.
The music has slowed a little. It is no longer a techno club beat. It is smooth and rhythmic—what I would imagine sex would sound like if it were music. Not that I would know anything about that.
He wraps his arms around my waist and brings me in close to him. I don’t know where to put my arms at first, afraid that I’ll go up in flames if I actually touch him, so I bring them up in the air above my head.
Wrong move. He raises his arms, too, and caresses them down over mine, lightly grazing my skin with his callused fingertips, causing goosebumps to pimple my flesh. My nipples harden instantly and almost painfully. I try to squeeze my legs together to keep myself from convulsing on the spot.
When his han
ds reach mine, he laces our fingers together and brings my arms around his back so that I can go exploring over the hard planes and ridges of his muscled and sculpted back. Damn T-shirt for getting in the way. I want to touch his skin, but somehow ripping off his shirt in the middle of his living room just doesn’t seem appropriate. Hell, nothing that I want to do seems appropriate.
He must see the look in my eyes because he chuckles lightly; the rumbles from his equally ridged and sculpted chest move through my body in waves and pulses. Our bodies move together as one—swaying and grinding to the music. His large hands roam all over my back but always return to the small expanse of skin that is exposed between my tank top and my denim skirt. At one point, I’m pretty sure he leans down to inhale the scent of my hair. I could be imagining that though; I am just so lost in the feel of his body next to mine that I can’t be sure. He cups my face at one point, and we hold each other’s gaze for long moments.
As our eyes lock, wow—just wow. Endless seas of the deepest blue I have ever seen meet my green eyes, and I am transfixed. He is beautiful; that is certain. But there is something in those eyes that makes him so familiar to me. It takes me a minute to put my finger on it, and I think he catches my quizzical stare.
He spins me around a few times ballerina-style and then dips me as the song ends. By the time he rights me and releases my waist, I figure it out. It is pain. It is the pain I see in my own eyes all too frequently.
Sensing that I’m seeing something he doesn’t want me to see, he abruptly lets me go and says thanks for the dance. There is an edge to his voice that was not there before. The change in his demeanor is instantaneous. I feel cold and bereft in his absence, and I can’t ignore the pang of jealousy that I feel as I watch him stalk off to some leggy blonde dancing on the other side of the room.
By the end of the night, Reid and leggy blonde are lip-locked on the couch. I haven’t said more than a handful of words to him, and he’s already done with me.
I guess I can choose happy as much as I want, but it doesn’t mean much if I’m not chosen back.
Chapter 4
I try not to think of Reid for the rest of the weekend. I am not successful. He is in my dreams. I can feel his hands on my body. I can see the pain in his eyes, and to say my curiosity, and my lust, for that matter, are piqued is an understatement. I want to get to know him more because in our short time on the dance floor, I felt something. I felt a lot, actually. I relaxed into him, and there was a definite connection—One he apparently doesn’t want to acknowledge, but one that is there nonetheless. I try not to think of him, but sadly spend most of the weekend doing just that.
When my alarm buzzes at 6 a.m., I am already awake. I always run in the morning, and a good run before my first day of classes is exactly what I need to clear my mind. I don’t have class until 10:30, and since I don’t really know how safe the local trails are, I figure I will make my way to the gym and hop on a treadmill.
It is quiet at the gym. There are a couple of guys in the weights section, and every single treadmill is free. The treadmills all face a wall of one-way mirrors—I can see out, but I know from when I walked up to the gym, no one can see in. The glass wall provides a picturesque view of the lake out in the distance. The sun is still low in the sky, and the pink and orange hues reflecting off the water are amazingly beautiful. I will definitely have to find a trail outside soon.
I stretch out, put my earbuds in, jack up the volume, set my pace, and run. As Florence and the Machine’s “The Dog Days Are Over” blasts in my ears, I feel for the first time in my life that I am running toward something rather than away from it.
Forty-five minutes and five miles later, I step off the treadmill and wipe the sweat from my face. I feel good, damn good. I’ve worked out all of my confusion over the weekend. I know that I’m bound to cross paths with Reid again, so I decide to just pretend as if the moments we shared, or that I thought we shared, never happened. I promised myself that I would choose happy, and Reid leaving me longing on the dance floor while he goes to make out with some other chick is so not happy.
On my way back to the showers, I sneak a peek into the weight room. Just when I decide to forget him, there he is. Reid is with a group of his friends, laughing. They look like they are really enjoying each other’s company as they work out. What the freak? He was so moody and cold Friday night, and now he looks like a completely different person. He is smiling and laughing, and there is a light in his beautiful blue eyes that is just breathtaking.
The second he catches me staring, he stiffens. It’s like he’s steeling himself against a harsh blow. I’ve done nothing but look at him, and he’s shooting me daggers. What the fuck is his problem? What the fuck have I done to piss him off so much? Why am I saying “fuck” so much? He must bring out my inner swearer. My runner’s high evaporates instantly, and I stalk off to the locker room.
About twenty minutes later, Reid arrives at the exit at the same time I do. I smile at him, trying to be nice, while his face remains as hard as stone—lightly stubbled, roughly delicious stone. I have a choice here: I can be pissy and moody, or I can be cool and calm. I bury my anger; I remember my promises, and I choose the latter.
“Hi. It’s Reid, right? I think we met this weekend at Jack’s party.” I try for innocent, hoping that the knowing looks he shot me before can be erased by my faux confusion.
He smirks at me, knowing that I’m full of shit. Through his stifled laughter, he says “Yeah, it’s Reid. Ashley, right?” Now it’s his turn to be full of shit.
I roll my eyes and try to bite my sarcastic tongue, but I fail miserably. I lean into him a little seductively and say, “If you hadn’t left me after one dance for Miss Leggy Blonde, then you would definitely remember my name. There’s no way you would have forgotten it after screaming it all night.” Okay, I’m a virgin, but definitely not a prude, and it seems like Reid brings out not only swearing Maddy, but sexy Maddy as well.
He stands at the door, mouth agape. I stride past him and head off to class. I’m walking across the quad when I feel him catching up to me.
“It’s Maddy. Even if I hadn’t had the privilege of calling it out all night, I wouldn’t have forgotten your name. So why are you following me?” His question leaves me more than a little confused, because he’s the one who is following me out to the quad.
“What do you mean?”
“To the gym—are you stalking me or something?” He’s trying to make the question seem light, but there’s a serious undertone to his voice. He really thinks I’m following him. Doesn’t he realize that I am not some clueless desperate freshman?
I huff an exasperated sigh and lay into him a bit. “No, Reid. I am definitely not following you. I was going for a run before class this morning. I didn’t even know you were at the gym. I didn’t see you until I was finished running and you shot me the nastiest look. I wouldn’t have even said hello to you if you hadn’t met me at the door. Happy? You can go on your merry way now knowing that I had no intention of even seeing you today.”
I pick up the pace toward the library to get a little bit of reading done before class starts, but his long legs eat up the distance I am trying to put between us in no time.
“I’m sorry, Maddy. I didn’t mean to piss you off. Really, I didn’t. I guess I was just surprised to see you there. Definitely surprised to see you run like that. I’m not one bit surprised to see how much of a firecracker you are, though.” His words are a stark contrast to the icy stare he shot at me before. They’re sweet and sincerely apologetic.
“Oh, Reid, you have no idea,” I snip back at him. For some reason, his rather mercurial reaction to me gets me very fired up, very annoyed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some work done.” And with that, I walk into the library, find a cubicle, and open my book. Unable to focus, I stare blankly at the words on the page, my mind lost in the enigma that is Reid Connely.
The next two weeks continue in much of the same pattern.
I get up early, head to the gym, get in my five miles, and go to class. I’d be lying if I said my only motivation for going to the gym every morning is my run. Reid also goes to the gym every morning. I know he looks for me. I’ve caught his glance a few times, so he knows I’m looking for him, too. We seem to be stuck in this push and pull, yet neither of us is willing to do much of anything about it.
It’s Friday and I’m done with classes early, so I head back to the suite to catch a nap. Cammie has the afternoon off as well, and when I walk into the living room she lifts her nose out of her textbook.
“Hey, Maddy! How was your day?”
“Not too thrilling. This psychology class is going to kill me, though. Synapses and neurotransmitters and blah blah blah.” I flop down beside her on the couch and debate whether or not to talk to her about Reid. She’s already said that she doesn’t know much, but I figure what the hell. It’s worth a shot, right?
“I know I’ve already asked about him, but what can you tell me about Reid? He’s at the gym every morning when I get there, and we swap stares all morning. We spoke once last week, and it was rough and edgy, like I’d pissed him off by being in his precious gym, and then he was all apologetic and sweet for nearly biting my head off. I’m usually pretty calm and collected, but he brings out this sarcastic snippy side to me. I just don’t know how to deal with him, and I have no clue what I did to bother him.”
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.
“Um . . .” She pauses while she tries to gather her thoughts. “I’m not really sure. Reid really keeps to himself while I’m at Jack’s. I’ve never gotten more than a tight smile and a quick ‘hello’ when he sees me there.”
Oh, not what I expected. He seems pretty loose and friendly with his boys at the gym.
“Look, Maddy,” she continues, “you might not want to hear this, but the few things I do know about Reid don’t exactly paint him in the best light. He’s a player. In the three years that he’s been here, he’s never been with a girl for more than one night—maybe a weekend if she was really good. He sleeps with pretty much anything that moves, and he doesn’t seem to be ashamed of it at all. The fact that you say he was sweet and apologetic is actually really shocking to me.”
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 3
