by Shelly Bell
When we reached the fourth floor, I told her to stop and I trapped her between my body and the door as I unlocked it. The sensation of her body against mine made my cock hard.
“House rule, whenever we have a party, this room stays locked.”
“What’s is this room?”
“It’s what Alpha Beta Omega calls the ‘history room’.” The room was covered in wall-to-wall shelves of books dating back to when the school first opened. Her eyes lit up as she read the titles of all the textbooks and literary novels.
“A lot of these are first editions,” she said.
“Yeah. That’s why the room stays locked when we have parties. We don’t want any of these drunken idiots to stumble in and spill their drinks.” Being a librarian, she seemed right in her element. But the books were not the reason I’d brought her up here. “Come here, this is what I brought you up to see.” I led her to the sliding door that led out to a balcony. I loved this spot because it overlooked the dried up lake and bridge. Something about this place was soothing and tranquil.
She sighed. “The bridge seems as though it’s in your backyard.”
“Yeah, and look up. That’s the Little Dipper.”
“It really is beautiful out here.”
“Yeah . . .” My eyes were on her. Her body. Her curves. The way her hair softly danced in the moonlight, putting the sky to shame with its beauty. “Trust me now?” I stood behind her, not able to look anywhere else.
“Yes . . . it really is a special place.” She still clung to the drink she’d brought up with her.
“Happy birthday, Cat.” I tapped our red cups together.
“Thank you.”
She looked at me from over her shoulder, and I was absorbed by the hunger in her eyes. . I took the cup from her hand and placed it on the ground with my own. I moved closer, leaning into her soft curves as I pointed at the bridge. Her back rested against my chest and I placed both my hands on the balcony’s short wall, circling her, locking her in against me.
“So . . . do you know the legend of the bridge?” I asked.
“I’ve heard something about it being the bridge of lovers. Isn’t it called Pont d’ Amour?”
“Actually, it’s the bridge of lost souls.”
She frowned. “That’s not really romantic.”
“But there’s more to the story . . . the legend says that when lost souls look upon the bridge and make a wish, they will find their true path to love.”
“Okay, that’s romantic. I wonder if it works.” She stared at me from under her lashes.
“Why don’t we make wishes and see if the legend holds true?”
“No . . . love is not for me.” Her voice was just barely above a whisper.
“Why not?”
“I realized a few years ago that most other people might be meant to have a happy ever after, but I’m not one of them.” Her body trembled against me.
“All the more reason to make a wish and see. Besides, today is your birthday. You’re owed a birthday wish.”
“I don’t know . . .”
I nuzzled the side of her cheek with my own. “What’s the worst that could happen? You would fall madly in love with me?”
“You’re so cocky, Blake Holland.”
“You have no idea,” I whispered in her ear, pressing my erection against her back. She breathed in a shallow breath, but didn’t pull away. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she relaxed against my chest. She felt fucking amazing in my arms. I caressed her flat stomach and her body arched into mine. “Come on, let’s make a wish.”
“Okay.”
“On three,” I said and she nodded. “One. Two. Three.”
I didn’t believe in any of this stuff, but if it meant that Cat would surrender her body to me, I was going to give it a try. “Make your wish?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
I kissed her forehead. Our embrace seemed natural, and her body against mine was driving me crazy. I didn’t know how long I could hold out before making another move. My body was pumped with vodka, and my cock was aching for every part of her. At least she didn’t hate me anymore . . . or she didn’t while she was drinking, anyway. “So, do you finally accept my apology?”
She giggled in my arms and turned to face me. Her eyes were a little lazy, but she smiled brightly. Yep. Drunk as me.
“Yes, you’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.” She chewed on that damn bottom lip again.
“Yeah?” I closed the space between us and tightened my grip on her. “You’re still feisty as hell, and it’s still sexy as all hell.”
“You think I’m sexy?” She placed a hand on my chest.
“I would have to be blind not to.”
I caressed her cheek and she sucked in a shallow breath. I finally placed my lips over hers. She melted into me. She tasted of mint and berries, and something else that was all her. I groaned. Her hands were in my hair and mine were on her ass as I kissed her senseless. I kissed my way down her neck and ached to taste her tits. I tugged at her dress and she helped. I took one beautiful breast into my mouth and nuzzled her nipple. I nibbled until she cried out. My hands roamed over more of her body, and I loved that she wore a dress. “I said we wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do . . .” I whispered between kisses. My hands wandered to her thighs and stroked her lace panties. “Can I touch you here, Cat?”
She shivered against my hand. “Yes.”
I slid my hand into her panties and caressed the liquid heat. “What about here?”
She moaned and arched her back. Taking her mouth with mine, I pushed her against the short wall and stroked her clit. She moved against my hand. Damn, she was so wet and inviting. All I could think about was tasting her. When I released her lips she was panting for air. “Can I kiss you right here?” I caressed her clit, pressing harder on her nub.
“Yes . . .”
I crouched down to my knees and slid down her panties. She hiked up her skirt and stared down at me with lust filled eyes. I lifted her leg and placed it over my shoulder as I tasted the salty sweet skin of her inner thighs. She moaned, inviting me to continue. Her scent was driving me crazy. I licked her clit, lapping over and over against her nub. She tasted so fucking good. I sucked hard. She grasped my head, pushing my face closer. I drove my tongue into her, sucking, licking, and lapping until she shuddered in my mouth. When she came, my name was laced with her moans and pride swelled in my chest. I slid her panties back up her legs and pulled her dress down over her ripe ass with much regret. I wanted my cock inside of her. I ached for it, but I wasn’t going to pressure her.
I kissed up her body and she watched with hunger in her eyes. When I finally reached her lips, she leaned against the wall and wrapped her legs around my waist. I held her tight against me. Her body molded around mine. Her pussy rubbed against my erection.
She pushed me away and slid off the short wall. “One good turns deserves another.”
She unzipped my pants and I let her release my aching cock. “You don’t have to,” I whispered.
“Didn’t we say we’d do what I want?” She looked up at me from below her lashes as her little hands moved up and down my cock. I groaned when she took me into her mouth. She struggled to take all of me, but she was a trooper as she pushed me to the back of her throat. Her beautiful lips pumped me until I couldn’t take it. I grabbed her head and fucked her mouth.
With a “Fuck, Cata-lina,” I came hard, and she took all of me.
I felt her closing off afterwards, but she still let me hold her inside the history room. I cuddled her against me on a leather sofa until her phone chimed with a text and ruined our moment. She pulled away to check her phone that she had tucked into her booted leg.
“I can’t believe they left me.” She frowned.
“Well, we did disappear first,” I reminded her.
She looked up at me with apprehension in her eyes. “Yes, I guess so.”
“No worries. Whenever you’re ready, I can drive you home.”
“It’s okay, I can walk.”
“Over my dead body.” I stared hard at her, and she took in a jagged breath.
“I don’t feel well. I think I’d better go home now.”
After I drove her home from the party, I attempted to kiss her goodnight but she shied away, like the balcony hadn’t happened. She did look sick, though. Apparently she hadn’t been kidding about being a lightweight. Her face was pale green, so I figured I would check on her in the morning. When I got home, I noticed a text from my father, which was the equivalent of getting punched in the gut.
As of now, you are on probation until you get your
grades up. Report to the Dean’s office Monday morning for
information regarding tutoring. You have two weeks to make
a difference in your grades or you won’t be playing the first game
of the season.
Anger roared through me. My grades were fine. This was bullshit. Just another way for my father to control me, and with the one thing I really cared about—basketball. My hands trembled as I texted.
My grades are fine.
I thought I wouldn’t get a response until morning, but my phone vibrated in my hand with a reply almost immediately. I was convinced my father was a vampire. The man never slept.
Mediocre is not fine.
I wanted to toss my phone against the wall. Instead I replied.
Don’t you ever sleep?
I knew his answer before I even read it.
Sleep is for the dead.
I didn’t respond. Nothing was ever simple with Brandon Holland III.
Chapter 9
Cat
When Dean Lancaster came into the library to speak with me, I was floored. My jaw literally dropped when he asked me to tutor Blake Holland. The first question that came to my mind was why in the world was Dean Lancaster arranging tutoring sessions when there was a huge counseling department to do that for him?
Because it was for big-shot Blake Holland.
Seriously, what were the odds? Six days ago, I hadn’t even known he existed, and now I couldn’t get away from him. According to the dean, Blake’s dad had offered to pay me two-thousand dollars on top of the tutoring fees if Blake received all A’s at the end of term. That money could mean my independence from my parents during summer break.
Still, I didn’t want the job, despite the fact I could use the extra money. But Dean Lancaster’s authoritative tone and demeanor told me it was impossible to decline. I had no other choice but to agree to tutor him.
After the dean left, I did some research on the Holland family. The Hollands were the equivalent to the Kennedys in royal-like wealth and power at this campus. They were one of the four founders of the university, and one of the family members had been on the board of directors every year since the establishment of Hayvenwood University in 1872. They owned Holland, Inc., which distributed engine parts to all three automotive companies in Detroit, and Holland International, which was the international sector of their business trade.
Of course Blake was a cocky asshole, he never had to work for anything. Everything had been handed to him his whole life. He hadn’t been an asshole the night of the party though. My body still burned with desire for him. I kept playing that night over and over in my mind. I’d drank that first drink really fast, and the second one, he’d taken away from me because I was drunk.
Some parts of the night were foggy, but I remembered how he kissed me. I could still feel the warmth of his hands and mouth on me. I still tasted him on my tongue. I hadn’t done anything like that with a guy since high school, and I couldn’t regret it happening. It just couldn’t happen again.
Virgins don’t hook up.
Well, I kind of hooked up with Blake, so I guess that wasn’t true. He had attempted to call and text me, but I’d been too embarrassed to respond. I’d been a different person with Blake that night on the balcony, completely free of any inhibition and completely into our crazy lust.
I glanced at the time and saw that it was a quarter after six. Blake was late, if he was even going to show at all. I should have been angry, but I was relieved. The thought of seeing him again made my stomach flip. I remembered his intense green eyes and that clean scent mixed with spice that had wrapped around me along with his powerful arms. I closed my eyes, and my body heated at the memory of his strong hands around my waist. My body hadn’t yearned for anyone since my high school debacle . . . until six days ago. Until Blake.
“Sleeping on the job?” Blake’s voice sent tremors down my spine.
When I opened my eyes, I nearly lost my breath at the sight of him illuminated by the fire. His lips curled into the cocky grin that I was sure had given him the nickname “sweet-talking panty-dropper.”
“You’re late,” I mumbled, walking over to the table I had set up earlier for our session.
He took off his coat and hung it behind the chair. From the corner of my eye, I got a better look at his chiseled chest in a fitted midnight blue thermal. His expensive jeans hung low around his waist.
“I, ah, got lost,” he said.
“You got lost coming to the library? The Holland Library?”
“I didn’t even know it was called that until I got here and read the sign.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shrugged. “No.” His bitter tone and the edge of darkness in his expression shocked me. Could there be more to Blake Holland than a spoiled, self-centered brat?
Chapter 10
Blake
Damn, she was a beauty. Her slender but curvy fame was coiled in a chair that swallowed her up. Her hair was pulled into another ponytail that highlighted her flawless features. She had high cheekbones, a tiny nose, and full lips that were pouting something fierce. It took everything in me not to kiss her into a smile. My gaze traveled down to her firm breasts and small waist, and I remembered the salty sweet taste of her skin. The corner of her T-shirt lifted, and I caught a glimpse of her flat, tanned stomach. I must have stared for a long minute before I spoke because the look she gave me was deadly, but still sexy as all hell.
I followed her tight ass to the table as she scolded me for being late. I really had gotten lost, and I wasn’t lying about not knowing the library was named after my family. Her expression seemed to soften as she explained all the handouts she had laid out on the table. Glancing at the documents, she chewed on the end of her pencil. My cock was instantly hard, remembering her lips on me.
“Okay, so Dean Lancaster gave me your schedule and the syllabus for each of your classes,” she said. “I’ve created a schedule for you as well as added study times with me each day.”
“I get to see you every day?” I smiled at her.
“Yes, if we’re going to get your grades up to A’s.”
“A’s?”
“Um, yeah.” She pointed the pencil at the notes in front of her. “The notes from all your instructors say you’re passing with a B-plus average and Kelley was giving you a B-minus, but that could change depending on how we do on our project. Honestly, you really don’t need a tutor. You just need to study more.”
Fury shot through me. I wasn’t failing my classes. I just wasn’t an A-plus student like my siblings. Yet I was on probation and could miss playing in the first game of the season if I didn’t get my grades up.
My father is a sick fuck.
I stood from the table and paced the library. I wanted to slam my fist into a wall. He wasn’t punishing me because my grades were falling, but because I was embarrassing him. Mediocre is not fine. His text message finally made sense.
Her hand on my arm was like a calming breeze that blew away my heated anger. “You wanna tell me what’s up?” It was the first time she’d looked at me with tenderness since the moment she’d opened her eyes.
“Sorry. I’m just pissed at my father for doing this.”
She nodded, took my hand, and led
me back to the table. Her hand was so tiny, but it fit in mine like a glove.
“I guess getting tutored wasn’t your idea?” Her hand was still in mine, and I refused to release my hold on her. Touching her eased the beast brewing in my chest and helped me to think clearly.
“Yeah.”
She placed her other hand over our joined hands, and I swear the girl looked deep into my soul. “Well, we can make the best of this situation. It’s not like you’re not studying. We can work together to get your grades a little higher.” She patted my hand and pulled hers away. My fingers stung with emptiness and I balled my hands into fists. “I just need your basketball schedule to make sure we don’t interfere with that.”
“It’s the same every day for the next two weeks. Six a.m. run, one hour training at two p.m. and five p.m.”
“What about games?”
“They don’t start until November, and if I don’t get my grades up, that won’t matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I might be suspended for the first game of the season if I don’t get my grades up to A’s.”
“I though you only needed a C average to play on a team?”
“Not if you’re a Holland.”
Her eyes widened. “That ridiculous.”
“Yup.” I didn’t want to get into the conversation I’d had in the dean’s office with my dad on speakerphone as he lectured me about my duties as a Holland. The only upside of the whole situation was that the dean had arranged for Cat to be my tutor.
For the remainder of the hour, she highlighted the tasks she wanted me to do on my own, as well as the assignments we would review together, and I realized she had a beautiful mind. I swear her brain must have been the most organized I’d ever seen, and I loved watching her talk. Her eyes lit up and she moved her hands everywhere when she explained things. But there was an air of mystery about her too. Somewhere behind that feisty attitude, intelligence, and sexy smile was a sadness of some sort.
