Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses #7)

by Addison Moore

  “On number four.” I do my best impression of a ventriloquist when I say it.

  “Four is a fan favorite!” she coos into my ear. Her syrupy perfume coats my lungs with its sugary scent, and I fight the urge to sneeze. “But remember, Winston is your golden ticket.” She clutches onto my arm a little tighter. “God, you’re so lucky. Do you know how many sisters would die to sleep with that man? He’s got a line out the back door, and all that boy sees is you. No need to thank me, of course, just make me a bridesmaid, and we’ll call it even!” She gives one final shove until I land square in front of my future faux groom and his block of white teeth.

  “There she is.” He drinks me down with those stoned eyes, and a shiver runs down my spine. “You need a drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  “A good Alpha Chi girl always nurses a beer.” He steps over to the refreshment table, and a sister hands him a Solo heaving with piss. “You’re a good girl, right?”

  “Right.” I take the cup from him obediently and listen for the next two hours as he drones on and on about his classes, his summer spent helping orphans in the rainforest of the Amazon, the racehorse his father bought him for last Christmas. The Mad Stallion has already placed in three different competitions. “You ride?”

  “I do, but—”

  “Then it’s a date.” He raises his cup as if to solidify this. “I’ve got a thing this weekend, but I’m good the next. We’ll drive up to Virginia. It’s eight hours, but who doesn’t like a road trip?”

  “That’s a sixteen-hour driving day. My brother actually—”

  “Your bother doesn’t have to know.” He waggles his brows, and I like him less by the minute.

  I was going to say my brother owns a horse ranch less than twenty minutes away, but Winston here doesn’t seem interested in anything I might have to add to the conversation.

  “We’ll spend the night at the guesthouse.” His head tucks back a notch as he slides his hand over mine. “It’ll be our first overnight getaway. I’ll make sure it’s special.” He gives that greasy wink, and I try not to look as though I might vomit. Next weekend? That puts us exactly at the end of rush—the deadline for my overnight date with Winston in many ways. I guess that would be it. That one overnight date will land me in this Victorian hellhole, and I can get on with my ridiculous goals and the rest of my life.

  I pan the room for Cassidy and the girls and spot them talking to a group of boys in the corner. They’re all laughing and having a great time, and I wish I could somehow teleport myself to that part of the room. I take it all in—Alpha Chi with all its glitz and glamour—and wonder what I ever saw in this place to begin with.

  “Um, I think that sounds great,” I lie because apparently that’s what I do now. I’m so disgusted in myself I can vomit. “I’d better hit the ladies’ room. Can you excuse me?” I glide past him, not waiting for a response. The audacity! Who the hell sets up an overnight date when you hardly know someone? Perverts! That’s who.

  A couple by the door catches my eye. She’s running her hands through his hair, snaking her body over his with passion. Now that’s the way it should be. That couple looks as if they deserve an overnight getaway in Virginia. The guy turns his head and glances around the room. I recognize those godly features, those glowing eyes, that body of a warrior—Owen. I jump behind the doorway and lean in just in time to see her take a generous bite out of his neck. He whispers something into her ear, and they take off, out the door, and most likely straight to his bed.

  There you have it, folks. I guess you don’t need to know anyone too long in this world before you jump into bed with them. My heart burns a hole through my chest as if Owen just dumped acid onto it. A boiling rage fills me. Why in the hell do I care who that douchebag sleeps with? I need to focus on whom I’ll be sleeping with at the end of next weekend. I glance back at Winston speaking with Jules and Lucille and shoot death rays at the three of them. He’s just a means to an end.

  They all are.

  * * *

  Saturday at Wyatt’s ranch sounded like a lovely idea in theory, horses, my brothers, baby Ben—but Wyatt has a rather extended invitation list that happens to include his partners from the advertising firm, their wives, and my fellow intern, Owen, the player.

  “Are you giving me the cold shoulder?” His brows furrow into a perfect V, and my insides burn with heat. I can’t wait until I’m an old hag, and I can hate people properly without my hormones getting in the way.

  I glare at him for a moment as I help myself to another serving of Annie’s famed potato salad. “Why would I care enough to do that?” Thankfully, we’re far enough from the picnic tables that Marley and Wyatt have set out across their sprawling yard. Rows and rows of apple trees are laden with the ornamental fruit just beyond us. It’s a perfect fall afternoon, and Owen Vincent is ruining it for me, much like he’s taken to ruining just about everything else for me.

  “Okay, we’re back to this,” he says it mostly to himself. “Would you give me a hint? Did I bring this upon myself, or are those robots you’re auditioning for controlling your emotions?”

  “You wish.” Speaking of auditioning, that’s exactly why Cassidy couldn’t make it today. She’s gravitating toward theater and has decided to try out for a role in 10 Things I Hate about You. I openly glare at Owen again. Yeah, I’m feeling like I might be able to score a role in that one myself.

  “So, how was she? You know, the blonde? Not that I care.” I give an exaggerated shrug, still unwilling to make eye contact with the bastard. After all, I’m gearing up for an overnight getaway with the man who will most likely put an obnoxiously large ring on my finger one day in the near future. The sad part is, this is most likely a very real possibility. It’s scary how much Winston and I actually have in common, but I’m still a far cry from doodling Mrs. Stanford on any of my notebooks.

  “What are you talking about? What blonde? And by the way, I like you with your hair down. And your lips look like they appreciate the red reprieve. You don’t need any of that, Piper. You don’t need them.”

  “What’s going on?” Cade comes over and offers Owen up a high five.

  What’s going on indeed.

  “Thanks for the heads-up, man.” Cade gives him a playful sock to the arm.

  What’s this? Since when are Cade and Owen best buddies?

  I clear my throat. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

  “We didn’t until last night,” Cade offers while taking twice as much of the potato salad as I did. “Let’s just say he introduced me to a few friends. One of them was very, very good to me.”

  “Gross.” I drop my plate onto the table.

  “The blonde.” Owen tips his head back and closes his eyes as if having an epiphany. “Yes, Jeanie Waters. She’s sort of a legend at Whitney Briggs.”

  Cade lifts his fork. “I believe the words you used were ‘a tradition.’”

  “A graduation requirement,” Owen counters.

  Cade went home with her instead? A swell of relief fills me. “You’re both disgusting. I’m leaving now.”

  Cade steps in front of me. “How’d it go at the Barbie Ball?”

  I avert my gaze. “Is there no one on this planet who appreciates the Greeks for what they really are?”

  “Assholes?” Owen offers without missing a beat, and Cade high-fives him once again.

  “No, a public service—i.e., networking at its finest. And there are tons of nice people there.” Albeit most of them are rushing right alongside me. The thought of any other girls getting that same letter I did makes me cringe. I’m positive they tailored the misery per its victim. I’m not an idiot. They’re using the fact I’m greedy for a bed—hell, greedy for a strand of those luscious pearls to clutch for the next four years to haze the living shit out of me. That’s right, I said it. The hell hazing doesn’t exist at Alpha Chi. Once I get in, I’ll turn this crazy train around. They need someone like me with balls of steel, who happens
to care about incoming freshman and other pledges in general, to set them straight. As far as I see it, the fate of other girls’ virginity rests on my shoulders. My overeagerness probably made me a prime target. Teaches me to get excited about anything.

  I glare over at Owen. “So, that blonde, Jeanie Waters? Did she have a friend for you, too?” I’m calling him out. Cade couldn’t care less if Owen’s manwhore ways are exposed, and I’m not entirely sure I should either.

  Cade nods to Owen as if to ask the question himself.

  “Nope.” Owen gives a shit-eating grin. “Went home all by my lonesome.”

  Laney and Baya come over along with Annie and Marley.

  “I’ll take this as my cue to leave.” Cade takes off toward the mass huddle of testosterone, and just as Owen is about to make his escape, Baya points a slender finger at him.

  “You know when I first saw you, way before Bryson introduced us—I couldn’t help but think you looked so familiar.”

  Owen’s face goes white. “I’ve been hanging around the Black Bear for a few months. I bet we’ve run into one another a time or two.”

  She shakes out her waves as if protesting the idea. “It’s not that. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere—somewhere big—oddly enough, like a girls’ night out. You’re not a model, are you?”

  I blush for him. It’s true. Owen is that gorgeous—not cheesy gorgeous like Winston, but rugged, manly, tan, athletic, drop-your-wet-panties-for-him gorgeous. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if I saw him on a billboard sporting nothing but his underwear. The thought makes me heat up ten times hotter, and my panties beg to drop for him.

  What the hell am I saying? I’m not dropping my panties for anyone, except maybe my potential first husband, Winston Stanford. A dull roll of nausea pushes through me. I glance over at Cade while Owen does his best to deflect the conversation. My own brother all but copped to having a one-night stand. Why am I making this some big deal?

  Owen takes off to hang out with the guys.

  Laney leans in toward me. “Are you okay? You looked a little rattled when we came over.”

  “Oh.” I wave it off. “Just a little Jeanie Waters’ scare. I thought one thing, and it was another. Not a big deal.”

  Baya lets out a howl of a laugh. “Jeanie Waters used to be my old roommate when I was living in the dorms.”

  Laney laughs alongside her as if she too were in on the joke. “To put it mildly, she made Baya’s fall semester as a freshman quite educational.”

  “Let’s be blunt.” Baya leans in. “That girl has seen more cock than a men’s urinal.”

  They break out into cackles once again, and I politely laugh along, but my mind is wondering if Cade now runs the risk of having his cock fall off. Not that I ever want to think about my brother’s junk, like ever, but someone has to tell that boy not to stick it in every hole he finds. He might end up with a hole himself without meaning to.

  Baya and Laney chat me up about everything under the sun, and I listen as they gush about married life. They’re beyond ecstatic to be linked at the legal hip for life with Bryson and Ryder. Annie bounces baby Ben over in her arms and plants a kiss on the top of his head. It’s clear she’s more than happy with Blake. I don’t blame her. Blake is a pretty great guy. I can’t imagine being that happy with Winston. A vision of an entire row of little boys with cheesy block-toothed grins swirls through my mind, and I’m quick to blink them away. God, I’m only one broken condom from making my worst dental nightmares come true.

  The party wraps up, and Owen offers me a ride back to campus. Cade doesn’t blink at the idea because he has a rental house a few blocks from Briggs. He hauled our ten-year-old German Shepherd, Buddy, down all the way from the city. Buddy is literally Cade’s best friend. I feel bad that I haven’t been able to stop by and see him. He’s the smartest dog in the world. It doesn’t surprise me a bit that Cade’s forgone the frat experience for a chance to shack up with Bud. Not that Cade is frat material. He has sort of an Owen-esque quality about him. And according to what happened last night, they have more in common than I could have ever imagined.

  My phone buzzes, and a sickening feeling spears through my belly.

  Knew it. It’s Jules.

  It’s Saturday night! The big game is at 7. Alpha girls always walk in together, so we meet at the house at 6:30 sharp! Mixer at Sigma Theta Tau to follow. Toodles!

  “Where to?” Owen asks as we come to the light, and a part of me wants to say head north and keep driving.

  “You know where I live.” It comes from me depleted. I knew my weekends would be tied to the house, but I had no idea how quickly they’d be dominated. “You going to the game tonight?” There’s a tiny bit of hope percolating in me.

  “Can’t miss it. Rex Toberman is a good friend of mine. He’s the quarterback and the entire reason we’ll be winning this game.”

  “Go Mustangs,” I say, lackluster. “But I’m glad you’ll be there. I’ll be there, of course. And then there’s a mixer at Sigma Theta Tau.”

  “Nice. It looks like I’ll be treated to another episode of the Winston Stanford Show.”

  “Since when do you care what Winston Stanford does?” I bite down over my lip, trying to hide a smile.

  “Since he’s doing it with you.”

  Owen doesn’t make the left to take us to Whitney Briggs; instead, he takes a right and drives us up the side of a steep mountain. He pulls off about ten miles next to a large wooden sign that reads, The Witch’s Cauldron.

  “Sounds spooky,” I say, newly invigorated by our detour. It’s like a weight has been lifted off me, and the further we are from campus, the better I feel.

  I get out and take in the fresh pine air. God, this is good. This is the exact reason I was clawing to get several states away from Manhattan, from the gritty city air that leaves a film over your tongue, from the lies that still swirl in my head each time I think about what happened last year. A mean shudder rides through me.

  “Are you cold?” Owen takes off his shirt without explanation.

  “Yes, but I can see that you’re not.”

  “I’m going in.” He nods to a bubbling pot of water buried in between the boulders, the words hot springs tacked onto a tiny sign right next to it. Steam rises from the inky water, and I watch as Owen drops his jeans to his ankles—his eyes still pinned on mine. He kicks off his shoes and steps out of his Levi’s. But my eyes snag on his skintight skivvies, the way they hug that ridiculously exaggerated bulge in the front.

  “How many socks do you have in your boxers, Vincent?” I laugh because I can’t believe the words as they sail from my lips.

  “You wish.” He lowers himself in gingerly, sucking a breath between his teeth. “Honey, what I have in my boxers is more reptilian in nature than it ever is cotton. Anytime you want a piece of this, you just say the word. I’m open to a friendly gesture now and again.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes so casually it breaks my heart. He spewed the words as if they meant nothing, just sound and air floating from his mouth to my ears. I guess love is a ridiculous notion that simply doesn’t exist in the world. Too bad. It was the life goal I was looking forward to most.

  Owen sinks all the way into the heated water until just his shoulders are exposed. A roar emanates from him, but I’m still stuck on the reptilian nature of his genitalia.

  “You coming in, princess?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. It’s clear he’s good with it either way.

  I whip off my sweater and peel off my jeans, letting the icy fall air baptize me with its splendor. I traipse over and lower myself into the water, and Owen gives a few quick blinks in my direction.

  A dull aching moan escapes me as the scalding water seals over my skin like a heated glove.

  “Down, boy. I’m not looking for any friendly favors.” I glance at my bra, and without thinking I work it off and toss it to the side.

  Owen straightens, stiff as a board. His eyes zero in on the girls, more slap-s
hocked than excited.

  “We’re just friends, right? Friends don’t let friends ruin their best bra.” I bob up and down as my feet skim the bottom, and my body ignites in a blanket of incredible warmth. This feeling, right here is the same feeling Owen ignites in me whenever we’re together. I wade over to him on my tiptoes. I’m thankful I don’t have to tread water to enjoy this. I let out another series of desperately aching groans. “This is the best damn feeling in the world.”

  “Come here.” That lewd smile twitches on his lips. He locks eyes with mine, and it feels magical, otherworldly.

  Owen finds my fingers and pulls me in close until that bulge of his accidently brushes against my hip. I back away, but he reels me in, his eyes growing heavy as he spears into me with his gaze.

  My stomach sizzles with a heat of its own. My body inches toward him, begging to feel his flesh pressed against mine.

  “You’re beautiful.” He winces as if it hurt to say it. He shakes his head as if instantly denying it. “I don’t want that to be the best damn feeling you’ve ever had.”

  “Oh?” I try to think of a million smart-aleck remarks that are strictly tied to his lap rocket, but every one of them escapes me.

  He pulls me in closer, closer still until our lips are less than an inch apart. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath.

  “I want this to be.” Owen brushes his mouth to mine, soft and lingering before hardening over me, and demanding entry. An aching sigh gets lost in my throat, and I hate how quickly he’s reduced me to a puddle. He’s kissing me. It’s happening, and I want this. I want him. Owen falls into my mouth with vigor, passion—with a hearty groan as if he means it, as if he’s wanted it all along—dreamed about it. His tongue mingles with mine before devouring me, leaving no stone unturned in its outright assault to have me. Owen pulls my body in until my chest adheres to his. A dull moan rides up my throat again and lands right into his mouth the way it should be. Owen should know how damn good this feels, how it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt before.