He glances around, then nods. “Product is fresh, too.”
Jesus Christ. The way he’s acting, you’d think we were doing something illicit.
The kid can’t be a day over eighteen.
Probably a freshman. Maybe a legacy or rush candidate. Aside from the killer parties, I have no interest in frat life and the only thing I know about their rules is that seniors like Coop hold sway. Which explains how he got this kid to do his bidding at eight o’clock on a Friday morning.
“Thanks.” I fish a twenty out of my pocket and offer it to him. “Will this cover it?”
He slouches, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. “That won’t be necessary.”
The fuck it’s not.
I always pay my debts and I have zero interest in owing this kid.
Where he sees a leg up with Coop and the guys at Sig Chi, I see an uneven exchange.
I stuff the cash in his hand and thank him again before heading to class.
Sutton’s nowhere to be found when I arrive, so I take my seat and open the bag, removing the rectangular white box from inside. Then I fire up my laptop, keeping one eye pinned to the door.
The minutes tick past and students trickle in one by one, but there’s no sign of Sutton.
Where the hell is she? It’s 8:59 and Mac will be here any minute.
Shit. Did she drop the class?
Guilt hammers my conscience. She wanted that internship as badly as I do. If she dropped Mac’s class, there can only be one reason.
AKA: one more reason for me to feel like a complete douche.
The door opens and adrenaline surges through my veins, but it’s just Mac. He smiles at the class and the door swings shut behind him.
Fucking fuck.
She actually dropped the class to avoid me.
Talk about a kick in the balls.
Despite her words—her insistence that what happened between us Saturday night will never happen again—I know she enjoyed herself. The way she cried out when she came? Maybe that shit can be faked, but there was no faking the way her body hugged my fingers as she came apart on my tongue.
It was fucking perfect.
Shewas fucking perfect.
And now that I’ve had a taste, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a dropped class to put me off her scent.
When I said I wanted her on her back screaming my name, I meant it. Hell, I’ve been fantasizing about it for the last five days. It’s fucking distracting.
I glance at the box on my desk and sigh.
So much for Plan B.
The auditorium door swings open again and Sutton strides in, head down, backpack slung over her shoulder.
Relief floods my chest and I grin as she slides into her seat and starts digging in her bag, a curtain of cobalt hair shielding her gorgeous face from view.
“Hey, Shorty.”
