“Kennedy.” I hook a finger under her chin and force her to look up at me. “It goes without saying that if we’re sleeping together, there won’t be anyone else.” I don’t add that the idea of her getting naked with another guy makes me want to throttle something.
“Okay.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but okay. Let’s do it.”
My dick takes the invitation literally, rising to full mast, and an idea takes hold. “You know, I could drive you home tonight. I’ve got the Jeep.”
She sighs. “Sex only, remember? Just one of the—” I can see it the moment she realizes I’m offering to make her fantasy come true, because a slow smile spreads over her face and her pupils dilate despite the bright lights of the library. “You know, come to think of it, I could use a ride.”
30
KENNEDY
Dammit.I glare at my laptop, frustration taking root. Why isn’t this stupid equation balancing? I must be missing something. I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a breath. Getting pissed isn’t going to solve the problem, but it might get me kicked out of study hall. I’ll just have to go back to the beginning and check my figures. I must’ve made a mistake somewhere along the way.
Maybe I miskeyed one of the numbers.
God knows I’ve been distracted. This whole teammates-with-benefits arrangement Austin proposed is equal parts guilt and pleasure. I peek up at him from under my lashes. A backward ball cap covers his dark hair, and he’s wearing a navy Waverly tee that hugs his broad shoulders. He taps his pencil on a notebook, and I watch with rapt attention as the muscles in his bicep jump. The man oozes sex, and I find myself counting down the minutes until our next hookup.
Guilt heats my cheeks and I tear my gaze from the sexy QB, forcing myself to look down at my notes even as the numbers swim before my eyes. Because, yeah, sex with Austin really is that good. It doesn’t help that I’m new to this whole casual-sex thing and still figuring out the rules. Like, no staring at the man candy during study hall. I’m no prude, but I was in committed relationships with both of the guys I slept with in the past.
And look how well that turned out.
Still, I hate lying to Becca and my mom, even if it’s a lie of omission. But at least I’m keeping my promise not to get involved with a football player. Because what Austin and I have? It’s purely physical. No hearts and no heartache. Just sex. The hot, sweaty, pulse-pounding kind. I don’t expect anything from him.
Aside from mind-blowing orgasms, anyway.
Who knew having a dirty little secret could be such a turn-on?
Just the thought of Austin’s touch sends a thrill pulsing through my veins. Which is probably why I can’t balance this equation. I push all thoughts of Austin from my brain and redouble my efforts to find the mistake in my work. I need to finish top three in the ACME competition, which will be impossible if my calculations are crap.
I’m halfway through the validation process when my phone starts vibrating. I know without looking that it’s distraction number two: my dad. He’s been texting me around this time every night for the last three days. What part ofI don’t want to see youdoesn’t he understand? I grab a pencil and scratch out some notes, feeling like an asshole for ignoring him. I mean, I know he’s the asshole, but apparently there’s still some small part of me that holds out hope. I sigh. This would be so much easier if he’d just fade to black.
After all, that’s been his MO the last twenty-one years.
The phone buzzes again and the pencil in my hand snaps in half.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I rifle through my bag for another and come up empty. Before I can ask one of the guys for a spare, Austin reaches across the table and offers me his.
“Need some help?” he asks, giving me that infuriatingly sexy smirk as he gestures to the problem I’ve been working on for the last fifteen minutes.
“Nope. I’ve got it covered.” I snatch the pencil from his hand. “Unless of course you’re an expert in differential equations?”
“Who says I’m not?” He arches a brow, indignation etched in the lines of his face. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”
I roll my eyes, but the guys burst out laughing, drawing the ire of the study group at the next table. If looks could kill, Waverly’s starting lineup would be short two All-Americans, one Heisman contender, and one genuinely nice guy.
“Dude, you’ve been spending too much time with Coop,” Vaughn says, slapping him on the back. “You might want to tone it down before Media Day or Coach’ll have an aneurism.”
Austin shrugs, his eyes locked on mine. “Figured maybe you could use some help.”
I smile, although it feels tight and awkward. “Just because we’re”—I catch myself before the wordssleeping togetherpop out—“on the same team, doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose in my business.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “And you’re right. I’m no expert on differential equations, but I know someone who is. If you’d like a second pair of eyes to look over that before you make yourself crazy.” He nods toward the hot mess that is my notes.
I sigh. “Is it that obvious I’m about to go full Hulk?”
He ignores the question—smart guy—and counters with one of his own. “Is that a yes?”
