Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1)

by Stacey Mosteller

  This line of thought is not the right one when I’m holding a drunk, passed out girl in my arms. I look around for Becca but don’t see her. She must still be outside. I pick Kat up so I’m cradling her neck with one arm, and her knees are draped over the other while I scan the room, knowing there’s no way I can carry Kat around the house looking for her. When I spot Liam I jerk my head toward the front door. He nods once and starts making his way over to meet me.

  Liam holds the door open so I can carry Kat through, careful not to bump her head on the side or edge of the railing as I walk carefully down the steps. The fleeting thought that it’s a good thing I work out every day crosses my mind, and I silently curse myself for it. Kat is by no means a heavy girl. She’s tall but lithe with long limbs and slender curves. Liam darts forward to open the passenger door, so I can gently place her in the seat. I fold her legs inside, so she looks more comfortable and pull the belt around her, fastening it quickly before quietly shutting the door.

  “What the hell, man?” Liam questions.

  I shoot him a glare. “What? She got drunk and passed out. What was I supposed to do? Leave her here?” Why is he giving me shit?

  “I get it, I do, but …” He looks around. “Isn’t there anyone else who could take her home? You’re leaving before the party even gets good. Not to mention, you’re going to be missing out on some prime pieces of ass if you leave now. Unless …” he trails off and I raise an eyebrow at what he’s implying.

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless … you’re hoping to score with the drunk chick.”

  I roll my eyes, but it’s too dark for him to see me. “Lee, for real? That’s ridiculous for so many reasons. First of all, she’s drunk. Passed out, non-responsively drunk.” I prefer participation from the girls I sleep with. “And second, she’s been friends with, and hung up on, my brother for years. There’s no way I’d touch that. Not even if she was sober.” That last part may not be completely, 100% true, but I’d at least think hard about it. I’m not into being second place or a substitution. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? To be a stand in for my younger brother. I shudder just thinking about it. Great. Now I have the image in my head of her calling his name during sex with me. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You gotta take care of her for your bro.” I don’t bother to correct Liam. It’s not just because of Max. I wouldn’t leave any girl at the mercy of college guys who are desperate to get laid. Not every guy has my standards … or my pussy average.

  Hmm. What would you call that? In Baseball it’s called an RBI—or Run Batted In … so would this be PBI? Or maybe FPA—Fucked Pussy Average. Yeah, I like that. Shaking my head, I walk around the car continuing to think of other acronyms. PIB—Pussy I’ve Banged is another good possibility.

  I’ve almost forgotten Liam’s even there when he tells me goodbye. Distracted, I lift my hand in a wave as I fold myself into my car, glad I only had the one beer, so I’m okay to drive. Kat’s had enough alcohol for both of us. Pulling up to a stoplight, I look over at her in concern. I wonder what happened tonight, not including the run-in with me, that made her drink so much. It’s not like her. Kat’s normally the type of girl who doesn’t drink at a party because she’s kind of a goody-two-shoes and she’d be terrified the cops would show up and arrest her as soon as she took a sip.

  She’s still passed out when we arrive at my apartment. I didn’t take her to her dorm because I still don’t know where Becca is and I can’t locate a cell phone on Kat to get her number. I make a mental note to yell at her about that tomorrow when she’s awake and consider calling Emmett to come out and help me get her inside. Just as I pull my phone out she begins to stir.

  “Clay?” Her voice is scratchy and groggy. “Where are we?”

  I get out of the car and go around to her side before answering. “My apartment. You’re drunk and you passed out. If I take you to your dorm, you might get in trouble. You can sleep it off here, and I’ll run you home in the morning. Or, I can have Max do it,” I say as an afterthought, though oddly enough, the idea pisses me off. If anyone’s taking her home, it will be me.

  “Oh,” she sighs sleepily, barely conscious as I help her out of the car. Her feet barely move as we make our way slowly over to the stairs.

  Giving up, I lift her back into my arms, and she drops her head onto my shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck. I set her down briefly to unlock the door before picking her up once again and carrying her into my apartment. I don’t know if she’ll get sick, and I don’t want anyone asking questions about why she’s here, so I take her into my room and lay her down on my bed.

  Kat

  Clay lays me down on his bed, his arms loosening around me when my back hits the soft fabric of his sheets. I panic, wrapping my arms back around his neck so I can pull him closer. I’m so out of it, and right now, having him close is the only thing that makes sense. He lets me pull him to me, so close our foreheads almost are touching, his eyes the only thing I can see. They’re full of concern as they search my face, checking to make sure I’m okay, and my heart skips a beat. This caring side of Clay is one no one, including me, gets to see very often. It makes it that much more disconcerting when he shows it.

  His breaths against my mouth become shallow the longer we stay in this position. I watch his eyes darken as a myriad of thoughts go through my head. Between his bed and his body, I’m surrounded by his scent. This ending to the night was not the one I envisioned, but having him so close to me, spending so much time together, makes the lines drawn between us blur. I’m no longer sure if he’s the asshole guy who torments me every chance he gets, or the hot guy who protects me … even when protection is the last thing I want.

  Before I can get my equilibrium, his mouth brushes mine, so light I almost think I imagined it. I gasp, my back arching and bringing our bodies closer together. The contact makes him gasp too, and our mouths touch once more. This time, his tongue darts out to trace along my bottom lip. My arms tighten further as he presses the top half of his body against mine.

  Reality intrudes, and I wonder, should we be doing this? Is this what I want? Then, Clay’s tongue touches mine and every thought in my head evaporates. Unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his tongue exploring my mouth, tangling with my own before he retreats. I automatically follow him, tasting the inside of his for the first time. If someone had told me that the first Mitchell boy I would kiss would be Clay, I would have laughed in their face. But, here I am, Clay’s hands on the bed, on either side of my head, his arms taut as they hold him above me.

  The kiss deepens, and Clay’s body moves as he toes off his shoes before climbing up on the bed to hover above me. My legs fall open, letting him move between them. His body lowers onto mine and now we’re touching from head to groin, his erection against the part of me that clenches at the feel of him pressing into me.

  Clay’s mouth leaves mine, traveling along my jaw until he gets to my ear where he sucks the lobe into his mouth, biting down gently. My arms go lax at the exquisite feeling, sliding down the side of his neck until my hands find purchase on his shoulders. He tugs a final time on my ear before his mouth moves lower to press a kiss just behind it. My nails dig into his shirt and his body shudders above mine, prompting a delicious feeling between my legs.

  Before I can register the motion, he rises up on his knees, grips the back of his t-shirt in one hand and pulls it over his head. He drops it over the side of the bed and pulls me up to a sitting position to grip mine by the hem. Pulling it slowly over my head, he drops it down as well, leaving me clad in only bra, jeans and panties. Clay’s eyes travel from the top of my head to my breasts, where they hesitate for only a few seconds before his hands slide along the sides of my face, tunneling through my hair to tip my head to the side. His mouth descends on mine, and he thrusts his tongue back inside my mouth, more forcefully than before.

  This kiss is totally out of my control. His hands on my face mov
e it from side to side until I’m in the position he wants me in. Clay’s mouth is greedy, and he presses it harder against mine until I’m lying back against his pillows. All I can feel is the sensation of his mouth on mine, his bare chest touching my almost bare one. It makes me long for more. I arch my back, struggling to undo the clasp of my bra awkwardly with one hand. Noticing what I’m doing, he takes one hand from my face and runs it down my arm and around to where I’m struggling with the clasp. It takes him less than a second to undo, and then he uses both hands to slide the straps down my arms.

  All too soon, I’m bare from the waist up. Before I can overthink things, his mouth leaves mine to place lingering, sucking kisses down my throat. He lingers briefly on my collarbone, then continues his kisses down my chest and between my breasts. His fingers trail up and down my arms leaving goosebumps in their wake, and it’s so many different sensations—featherlight touches and wet kisses. I don’t know which to concentrate on. As his mouth kisses underneath first one breath and then another, my breath hitches and I want to beg him to focus his attention on my nipples.

  Clay continues to tease me, his kisses coming closer, but still so far away from where I want him the most. “Please …” The word is less than a whisper, more a breath of sound, but he hears it.

  His head lifts, his mouth curved up in the smirk I normally hate so much. Right now, it’s so sexy I can barely breathe. “What do you want, Kitty Kat?” I stare at him, unable to vocalize what I want, and his smirk turns into a full on grin. “Is it this?” He takes one hand and cups my breast, running his thumb across my nipple, which tightens further at the attention. Holy shit! My mouth drops open, and I gasp. “Maybe this?” Using his index finger and said thumb—which ohmigod just shot sparks straight to my groin—he pinches it, tugging lightly. I moan, feeling my cheeks heat in embarrassment at just how loud the sound is in this quiet room.

  He releases me to chuckle quietly, then lowers his mouth so it’s just above the tight point. “I know. You want this, don’t you?” Before I can respond, his mouth surrounds my nipple. When he sucks, I swear, I think I lose my mind. Just that small action blows any other sexual experience out of the water and now I’m panting. My hands come up to grip his biceps, and I can feel them trembling as he moves to repeat the move on my other breast. The cool air in the room touches my wet skin and I shiver. Clay brings the hand he used before up to cup my breast again, plucking the nipple with his fingers as he uses his teeth to softly bite the other.

  “Oh Clay,” I sigh, pushing into him, wanting more of this delicious torture. His right hand flattens on my stomach before resting on the button on my jeans. He lifts his head, and his eyes silently ask if this is okay. I nod and whisper, “Yes.”

  Clay flicks the button open, then slowly drags the zipper down. I close my eyes, having a moment of panic over what panties I’m wearing, but I went out prepared tonight, determined to show Clay, Max, Becca, and everyone else that I’m not some scared little girl. When he tugs my jeans, my eyes fly back open to see him watching me, waiting for me to make the next move. I lift my hips so he can drag them and said panties down my legs.

  Then, I’m lying naked beneath him, while he’s still half-clothed. He runs his hands up the inside of my thighs, spreading them wider and staring down at the apex. I squirm uncomfortably, but when his eyes snap back up to mine, I freeze. He runs the tips of his fingers up my hips and across my stomach, just above my core. This time, I tremble, but it’s not in discomfort. I need him to move his fingers lower, to touch me.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, he trails one finger straight down, over my mound, then my clit, and I jerk. He moves lower, his finger sliding through skin that’s slick with the desire he’s creating within me. When that finger just barely enters my body, I begin to shake. It glides inside me easily. I’m embarrassingly wet, but he definitely doesn’t seem to mind. First one enters, then two, and I’m strung taut as a bow. I feel like I might shatter any minute.

  It’s not like I’ve never had an orgasm, but this feels nothing like the ones I’ve given myself with either my fingers or the little silver bullet Anna gave me for my birthday. This feeling is intense, like three of those orgasms rolled into one. Clay bends his head to suck my nipple into his mouth once more, and that’s it. I can’t hold it off. My orgasm explodes inside me and my eyes close. I’m unable to concentrate on anything but the pleasure coursing through me. My eyes grow heavy, and those feelings are the last thing I remember.

  Clay

  Her eyes pop open as soon as she’s horizontal, and she starts to say something. “Shh,” I whisper. We weren’t at the party very long, but it’s after midnight and I don’t want anyone to come in here, so I try to soothe her back to sleep. It only takes a few minutes before she’s softly snoring, so I remove her sneakers and tuck my sheets around her. I feel a little bad leaving her to sleep fully dressed, but there is no way I’m taking even one piece of clothing off of her. If I do, God only knows what she’ll have to say about it tomorrow. I don’t want to deal with that.

  I move over to my dresser as quietly as I can and pull out a pair of sweatpants. If I’m spending the night on the couch, I’m not doing it in jeans. Thanks, but no thanks. I use the bathroom in my room as quickly as I can, leaving the light on and the door cracked. The only thing left to do is grab one of the pillows from my bed because there’s a blanket on the back of the couch. It won’t be the first time I’ve spent the night there, but it is the first time I’ve slept on the couch while a girl was in my bed.

  The couch is comfy, and long—a good thing considering I’m a few inches over six feet. Once I’m comfortable, I figure I’ll fall asleep immediately, but I don’t. I start to drift off thinking of things I can say and do to get Kat riled up. I can’t deny that pissing her off is one of the best parts of my day. In fact, when she’s not around for a few days, I miss her … but only because she’s not here to spar with. Not for any other reason.

  Just as I’m nodding off, I hear a noise. I jerk awake and listen for it to come again. I don’t have to listen long. Only a few minutes pass before it happens again. It’s a soft moan, the type a girl would make when she’s touched in a way she likes. I wonder briefly if Max has his booty call—or whatever she is—over, but then I realize the sound is coming from my room … not his.

  Fuck me. Are you kidding me? What the hell is she doing in there? Unable to stay still, I walk quietly over to my door and press my ear against it like the creeper I’m being. The rustle of sheets is all I hear at first, then a loud sigh comes through the thin door. The sound goes straight to my dick and now I wish I hadn’t changed out of my jeans. Sweatpants leave no way to hide my sudden erection.

  I listen at the door for I don’t even know how long when a whimpered, “Please,” comes out of her mouth. It’s all I can do not to open the door and make whatever she’s dreaming about a reality. My cock is hard as steel and when she whimpers again, it jerks, wanting me to do exactly that. I reach down and grip it hard through my sweats, trying to keep it in check, but her continued noises make that a lost cause.

  Then, her soft voice whispers, “Yes,” and I squeeze harder. Looking around the room quickly, I can see that both Emmett and Max’s doors are closed. It’s late enough that neither should be coming out. They’re probably asleep, and that’s a damn good thing. I don’t want either of them to hear what I’m hearing, or intrude on this moment. Once I’m sure it’s safe, I grip the back of my shirt with one hand and yank it off. Then, I push my pants down far enough so I grip my cock with my right hand. The head is already slick with pre-cum and I can’t believe just how close I am. Kat continues to mumble, but her words are now incoherent.

  I use the slick liquid to stroke myself, biting my bottom lip to try to keep my own moans silent. I don’t want anything to startle Kat or alert anyone else to what’s going on here in front of my bedroom door. Kat’s moans grow in intensity and I can tell she’s getting close. Her voice is higher, the moans more br
eathy than before.

  I stroke faster, using my other hand to squeeze my balls. They’re pulled up tight against my body, and the pressure of my hand brings me that much closer to the edge, especially since I’m imagining in my head that it’s hers. I imagine Kat on her knees, her tongue sliding around the head of my cock instead of my hand, lapping up the pre-cum each stroke produces. She closes her eyes at the taste, and takes me deep. I can almost feel the heat of her mouth closing over me, sucking me hard and doing her damnedest to make me come.

  I’m so close, my orgasm boiling at the base of my spine, when I hear Kat sigh, “Oh Clay.”

  Knowing she’s thinking or dreaming about me tips me over the edge and I mutter, “Fuck yes,” as I aim my dick at the floor where I threw my shirt. My dick pulses over and over, the orgasm going on longer than any other solo session I can remember, although granted, my brain isn’t capable of much thought at all. I pull my sweats back up, just in case I was louder than I thought and someone comes out to investigate, then grab my soiled shirt off the floor.

  I didn’t think this through very well, because now I’m going to have to either throw away the shirt or open my door enough to toss it beside the dresser. I’m not sure which is the better option, but I do like this shirt. It’s a tight enough fit girls like to look at me when I’m wearing it. Standing just outside the door, I waffle back and forth for a minute before deciding, screw it.

  All is silent in my room, and if her orgasm was half as strong as mine, she’s probably fast asleep. I push the door open slowly, listening for any protest, but there’s nothing. As soon as it’s open enough to put my hand in, I reach in and drop the shirt. I’ll just have to remember to get it before I wake her up tomorrow and toss it in the hamper, along with a few other things since I’m pretty sure it’s empty.