“Rumor has it, you like to get right down to business.” I pick up the cup and toast him. “I guess that rumor would betrue.”
“You’ve heard rumors about me, huh?” His left brow does that sexy fish hook thing, and my body explodes withheat.
I take another six swigs and effectively drain the cup. “You might want to deflate your ego. None of the aforementioned rumors are good.” I toss the ball, and it nosedives off thetable.
“You drink two.” He makes a face. “But since I’m getting thirsty, and you obviously have a propensity to miss, I’ll joinyou.”
“Pfft.” I chug down another, and the room does a comfortable spin. “Propensity.” My lips feel as if I’ve just twisted them in a knot. “Why says propensity at a frat party?” I slap my fingers to my lips. “I mean who—whosays propensity at a frat party?” Geez. It looks like the liquor has already dumbed down my IQ. Not that I wasn’t already questioning that fickle number once I decided to jump onto the One-Night StandExpress.
Seth lowers those lids and does that bedroom eye thing at me that makes panties melt for miles, but I’m not buying it. And, oh hell, are my panties melting? Damn him for looking sodelicious.
“I say it.” Seth bounces the tiny white Ping-Pong ball in his hand a moment. “I say it because I like words. I’m writing a novel. You know, just tinkering around. The intro was a project for my creative writing class, but I thought I’d take it home to the end—see what happens.” His navy eyes glow like blue flames as he looks right at me. “I like to finish what Istart.”
And just like that, a spark jumps from him to me, electrocuting my heart back to life. A flashback of Nolan and Rush double-teaming me with their disdain toward my seemingly innocent childlike crush comes back to hauntme.
“A book, huh?” For a brief moment I envision him crouched over a stack of loose-leaf papers with a crayon in hand, scribbling feverishly outside of the lines. “I bet it’s a how-to manual.How to Form a Modern-Day Harem. Rumor has it, there are three different girls in Cutler Tower who have done the walk of shame from your apartment—all on the same night. Does your mother know where that mouth of yours has been? If not, I can tell her at the wedding.” I toss the ball as lightly as possible and land it in a puddle of amber ale. Seth drinks, and I break the rules, joininghim.
He puts down his beer and barks out a laugh. “There were not three. I should know. I was there. And I’m pretty sure my mother doesn’t care for the details, but if you’re into sharing, I’ll be sure to tell your brothers all about your newfound hobby of toilet hugging.” He glances over his shoulder. “If you see Rush headed this way, give me a heads-up, wouldyou?”
“Right. Like I care what Rushford thinks. He’s busy banging my best friend like a storm door in ahurricane.”
Seth laughs, landing another ball in a cup, and I quickly knock it back. My limbs feel heavy, and just closing my eyes for a brief moment makes my feet feel as if I’ve just stepped onto acarousel.
“Maybe we should stop.” Seth waves at me from across the table, and I swear on all that is holy that the room just elongated by thirty feet at least. “I can walk you back now if youwant.”
“No way. I’m not a lightweight. I can hold my liquor.” Or so I’m hoping. The truth is, I’ve never had more than a sip of this or that. But I don’t feel anywhere near hugging a toilet, so that has to be a pretty good indication that I’ll be able to make it through that long haul I was threatening. “So, tell me about that book. Let me guess, a children’s story about princesses andunicorns?”
Seth hacks out a laugh, and his dimples dig in deep, his chest bounces, strong, wide, so very chiseled even under that T-shirt, I’m half-motivated to land my hands over it. “I’ll pen that especially for you sometime, sweetheart. I’m writing a thriller—a murder mystery thriller that involves a decapitation, a poisoning, and a missing painting from TheLouvre.”
“At least you’re original.” I give a hard wink, and it feels as if my head is catapulting toward thetable.
Seth and I empty cup after cup, drowning the night in a giant red Solo cup, swimming in amber liquid that smells and tastes like a skunk just sprayed it. And soon enough I can’t feel the floor, can’t find the door. In a blur of a moment, I’m ambling my way through the crowd, bouncing from body to body, looking for Mr. Right Now, Mr. Basketball. Mr. Football. Mr. Eli Gates. Right? I can’t keep any names, faces, or places straight at the moment. The only thing I really want is a bed to land myself in—all by mylonesome.
My stomach does a heated revolution, its contents potent as battery acid. The room spins, turns side-to-side as I stumble to the hall where the lighting isn’t so harsh, the sound of incessant laughter, the music isn’t sooverpowering.
There he is—dark hair, those magnetic eyes, and that magic smile. It’s all I see, and it’s enough to send every butterfly in existence fluttering in my heated belly at once. He closes the gap between us as his arms land around my body, his lips over mine. Our bodies float down the hall, behind closed doors. We’re all limbs and teeth, my fingers knotted up in his hair. I tug at his clothes, whisper something that should sound likeI want you,but my vocal cords don’t cooperate and I start to laugh right there with his mouth over mine. His wet kisses pick up with intensity, and soon we’re falling over a soft bed, a sofa—hell, it could be the floor. His skin touches over mine, and it feels electric, erotic beyond anything I have ever experienced, and soon we’re diving in and out of one another, clawing, laughing, moaning. And after a spin on the most dizzying carnival ride of them all, I fall fastasleep.
Dreams evade me all night, taunting me with snatches of an electric smile, low slung lids, a devilish gleam hidden in a pair of dark eyes. The shadows from the hall dull out his features as I struggle to see his face, the stranger with the delicious kisses, those masterful strokes ofhis…
Slowly I rouse from thick uncomfortable dreams, and my hand flops over the mattress and onto abody.
Abody. ABODY!
I do my best to pry my lids open, my limbs feel as if they’re turning to stone, my head feels as if it’s been hit with a mallet, and my poor eyes feel swollenshut.
A room forms around me, too much light coming in from the widow in the corner, a gray comforter lies crumpled on the floor—a dark wood floor, neither of which belong in mydorm.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as I inch my way to the edge of the bed. I didit!
My knees pull together, and instantly I feel an unnatural burn deep inside ofme.
Oh my God—I didit. I’m not a virginanymore.
My heart ratchets up into my throat, and suddenly I want nothing more than to run the hell out of here. I spot my jeans next to the wall, my sweater by the door. What the hell is the morning after etiquette?Isthere a morning after etiquette? God, why didn’t I ask more questions? A little research into the topic couldn’t have hurt. Do I turn around? What if it’s not Eli? What if itisEli? Worst yet, what if he’s up for round two? Or judging by that fire raging in my nether regions, round sixteen. Oh my God, I’d really better get out ofhere.
If I get up and leave now, we can both forget about last night. I was so far gone last night I can’t even remember his face. Maybe he was just as wasted? If I tiptoe out, I’ll be doing us both a favor. I’ll just quietly roll off the bed, casually grab my things, and run like hell. I won’t look back. It was dark last night, wasn’t it? I doubt he even knows who Iam.
Just as I’m about to move an inch, a warm hand lands right over my bare bottom and I let out an unexpected squeal. I hike up on an elbow and spot an enormous back, his head toward the other edge of the bed, dark hair. Just past him on the floor lies a blue-checkered flannel rumpled in a heap and I gasp. It must be Eli! He’s uncovered,unclothed, and safely unconscious, so I do the only thing I can think of. I roll out of bed, snatch my clothes off the floor, hop my way into my inside out jeans—phone still miraculously in my pocket—put my sweater on backwards, no shoes, and stumble my way back to Whitney Briggs looking like a homeless lunatic in what will be my first and final walk ofshame.
