Boyfriend Bargain Read online

  Indeed.

  He shows me to the railing at the edge, and even though it has a screen, the cold air rushes in. I inhale a deep breath, looking out over the lights of campus just a few blocks away. He stands next to me, a few inches to the side, eyes on me and not the view.

  A sigh comes from his chest. “Look, I came on too strong down there. I can be a bit abrupt, it’s just I get tired of girls…” His lips twist as his words taper off.

  “Throwing themselves at you?” I arch a brow. “I watched a girl crawl on the floor to get to you tonight. I get it.”

  He shrugs broad shoulders, the movement graceful yet filled with power. “I don’t encourage it.”

  “Just a normal day for you, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He blushes. Actually blushes.

  I stare down at our joined hands and remorse hits. I shouldn’t have stalked him. The entire idea was stupid. “You know…I’m sorry. I did go to the Tipsy Moose to see if I could talk to you, and yes, I was behind that column waiting for you. I even tried to approach you in class a few times, but I always chickened out. It wasn’t for bragging rights.” There. It’s all out. Relief flows. “I’m just…shy…and I couldn’t figure out how to be a regular person, so I thought I might tag along to where you go and see if we had anything in common.” I grimace. “We don’t. I can’t even hang at these parties. All I want to do is go home and crawl in bed. Maybe eat some snacks, maybe read some poetry.”

  There’s silence, and I feel the weight of his eyes on me even though I’m staring at the lights below us.

  “Sugar?”

  I turn and meet his gaze, and my breath hitches at the heat I see reflected back at me.

  “You’re not a jersey chaser. I get it. You just…took me by surprise. You’re very beautiful.” That last part is uttered with a deep sincerity, and I…I can’t stop looking at him.

  I don’t think I’m beautiful; my nose is a hair too long and my ears stick out more than I wish they did, but the way he says the words makes me believe them. I lick my lips and he watches the motion.

  “Your mouth is…perfect.” He steps in closer and rubs a knuckle across my lips, back and forth, until my lips separate slightly of their own accord, and before I can stop myself, I’ve kissed his fingers. It’s completely impulsive, yet right.

  His breathing deepens as he continues that motion, tantalizing me slowly as if there’s nothing he’d rather do than touch my skin. “There’s something going on between us that’s…I don’t know…interesting. I knew it the moment I saw you.” He pauses. “I want you.”

  I want you.

  His words send a jolt of exquisite pleasure through my body.

  He moves, shifting closer, the spicy scent of his cologne and fine leather lulling me.

  I feel dazed. My stomach flutters. And my heartbeat—it’s so loud I wonder if he can hear it.

  The moon is out and the light shows me the sharp granite angles of his face, the way his eyes burn. There’s heat there, ready to combust, just waiting to be lit with a match.

  I inhale cool air, feeling lightheaded.

  “Maybe it was meant to be, you following me around.” His fingers shift down to trace my jawline, outlining the curves from my cheekbone to my chin. He touches my bottom lip and then tilts my head up. “I want to kiss you.”

  “We…probably…shouldn’t.” Is that my voice? All breathy?

  “Is that a no?”

  “Not no,” I say, my voice strangled.

  “Good.” He touches my hair, twirling it around his finger as his face leans down to me, and shit, his lips are close to mine, so close. My face is tingling where he touched it and my body is aching—

  He kisses me, and it’s as if I’ve been waiting all night for this, since the moment his eyes found mine. Full and sensuous, his lips fit perfectly, the pressure of his mouth soft yet insistent, almost coaxing. I flick my tongue at his, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, delving deeper as he takes more of me, exploring. My breasts press against his chest as his teeth nip at my lips gently, then harder, and I give it back to him, my hands coming up to rest on his leather jacket, caressing the softness there before curling around his neck.

  Sensations bombard me—his scent, the rough brush of his scruff against my face, the feel of his hard muscles rippling under my touch.

  His fingers dig into my waist, each one like a brand on my body. There’s an edge to his touch, a hint of rough—and my body throbs.

  “Sugar,” he says, and he sucks on my tongue, his hips against my pelvis, his cock hard.

  My hands slide down and grip his upper arms, and my legs shake as his lips move across my collarbone and down to the neckline of my sweatshirt. Goose bumps flare out over my skin, and I fold past the point of making any good decisions when his hand reaches up to my chest, unerringly finding my nipple through my shirt and bra. My breasts feel heavy as his index finger and thumb twirl back and forth, begging my nipples to rise up, and they do, aching. I picture him sucking them, and as if he reads my thoughts, he turns us around and guides us to the back wall of the porch, his mouth never leaving mine.

  His hand is under my shirt and toys with my waistline, spanning the width and breadth, exploring and brushing against my skin, and his touch is hot, so hot. With a groan, his hand settles on my breast, dragging the lace of my bra against the nipple. Sparks of need fly through my body. Bennett always rushed this part to get to what he wanted, but Zack…please, I want more of this. I cling to his shoulders and rub my hand down his back, wishing his jacket would magically disappear.

  The wall is behind me and his hips grind against me as I part my legs, letting him in—

  The sound of people laughing in the media room breaks us apart. I pull my shirt back down, feeling color rise on my face.

  He looks over my shoulder and then back at me, eyelids heavy, his voice hoarse. “They’re gone, just passing by.”

  He leans down to kiss me again, but I stop him, my chest heaving. “Wait.”

  He breathes deeply as he studies me, searching my face. “Why?”

  Why?

  I stare at him, taking in the perfection. The broad shoulders, the roped forearms, the way his hair falls around his chiseled face, and those lips…delicious and perfect and…I want them on my body.

  I swallow down a shaky breath.

  He ticks all my boxes for men, but he’s too much for my already broken heart.

  No matter my bravado downstairs, to me, this wouldn’t be just a hookup, and he’s made it clear that he doesn’t make promises.

  “Sorry.” Before he can say a word, I brush past him and dart for the exit, dashing through the media room until I’m out in the hall. Breathing as if I just ran a marathon, I hear voices coming up the staircase and act on a whim. I head to the bathroom, which is just to the right, clearly labeled with a sticker on the door.

  I go into the surprisingly spacious room, lean against the wall behind the door, and play back the kiss, remembering the feel of him against me, how my body felt alive for the first time in weeks. He is…so intense and beautiful.

  The door opens and I mutter a curse in my head for not locking it, but before I can reach out to stop the progress of the person entering, I see it’s Zack, and I stop. The door closes softly behind him and I freeze as I wait for him to see me, but he hasn’t. He keeps his gaze lowered as he walks to the sink, a hand deep in his hair, chest heaving as he flips on the cold water, letting it run.

  He stares at himself in the mirror for a long time then tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling for several beats. He closes his eyes and bends down to splash himself with water. Grabbing a clean towel from under the cabinet—who knew they existed in a frat house—he presses it to his face and holds it there for several seconds. Then, he tosses it down and flips the water off with his head bowed, breathing in and out. There’s a red flush on his cheeks and his jeans are tented. My gaze lingers there, seeing the fullness of the denim. Shit. My body softens, p
icturing those jeans pulled down and him inside me.

  “Zack?”

  He flips around, his jaw popping as he takes me in. His hands clench. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

  “I know.” I take a step toward him, stopping a few feet away.

  Neither of us speak, that thread of tension between us building as we stare at each other. I want those powerful, muscled arms around me. I want his emotional eyes gazing into mine when—

  “I should go,” he says, moving to open the door, and I put my hand on his arm.

  “Wait.” I don’t know what I’m doing, but this moment, this guy—it feels right. “Don’t.” I take another step and eliminate the distance between us. With a hand that trembles, I lock the door, tilt my head back, and take him in. His hair is slightly damp from the water and I reach up and run my hands through it. It feels as good as it looks, soft and silky. I tug on the ends. “Stay.”

  His lips part, a long breathy sound coming out. “Are you sure?”

  Curling my fingers around his neck, I stand on my tiptoes and press my mouth against his. “Yes.”

  His response is instant, an accelerant to a flame, his lips taking control, his tongue an invader as we go nuclear in a millisecond.

  His hands cup my face as his mouth ravages mine. He sucks my tongue until I groan, my breaths labored and loud in the small room. He kisses down my neck, retracing his path from before, his lips hot against my collarbone, the back of my ear.

  Cool air hits my skin as he eases up my sweatshirt. I help him pull it up and over my head, exposing my black lace demi bra. He throws my shirt on a shelf and stares at me with an almost hesitant look, as if I might change my mind. I won’t, my eyes tell him.

  I’m a tall girl and my breasts fit my frame. They’re usually the first thing a guy notices, and I watch as his eyes lower. His gaze lingers on my full C-cups, and a long exhalation leaves his chest. My body tingles in response, my nipples tightening at his slow perusal. I bask in the way he stares and then moves up to lock eyes with me.

  “Beautiful.” His fingers push the lace down until the bra is under me, lifting my breasts up. My breath freezes when he latches on to one of my nipples with his mouth. I groan, splayed out against the wall while he caresses me, tugging down on my nipples, sharp sensations reverberating through my body. My hips writhe against his.

  He sucks each breast, going back and forth, the scruff of his jaw bound to make my skin red, but I don’t care. I grapple with his leather jacket. He leans back for half a second to toss it off, and I’ve never been happier to see a good piece of clothing gone. Grasping the fabric of his T-shirt, I shove it up until I see his chest, my mouth watering at the smooth expanse of muscled, sculpted skin. He has part of a dragon tattoo on his left shoulder that I imagine curls around to his back. Part of me wants to trace all of it with my fingers, but I’m in a hurry exploring his chest, tasting the muscles there, my tongue sucking on his collarbone the way he did mine earlier. My fingers dig into his waist, pulling him closer. I lick his nipple and eventually he pulls my mouth back to his—it’s so divine—and we kiss, our mouths open, licking and sucking, until I can’t think.

  Until I can’t be held responsible for what I do.

  “Sugar.”

  He says my name like it’s a prayer as his hand slips under the waistband of my leggings and plays with the lace of my black panties. He touches my mound on top of my underwear, his fingers dancing over my clit.

  “Yes,” I say, and he closes his lids and bites his lip, giving me one, lone finger inside my panties. My back arches involuntarily toward him, aching for more.

  His mouth plays with my nipple while he strokes inside me, and sounds build up in my throat, raw and primal. I don’t know who I am right now, but I know I’m wired to him, devouring every hitch in his breath, every movement of his fingers.

  “Please,” I beg, and he grunts, knowing what I want.

  He gives me two fingers, delving inside my wetness then gliding back out. Over and over, he repeats the torture, and my legs open as far as I can get them in my leggings. “Fuck.” He exhales against my neck. “You’re wet.” He teases his thumb over my clit and I gasp.

  My hands are at his jeans, unzipping them and shoving them down just past his hips. He’s commando and his cock is beautiful, long and thick. My heart pounds as I stroke his shaft, rolling the wetness from the top to the bottom. His skin slides over his length like iron as I caress him, brushing my fingers over his tip. Groaning, he kisses me harder, his teeth nipping at my lips, tugging until it hurts and then he kisses me softly, begging.

  “I want inside you,” he says, and my entire body clenches.

  I. Just. Want. Him.

  More, more, more.

  I call out his name and clutch his nape when his thumb is back on my nub, playing me, and a swirling sensation builds at the base of my spine, enveloping me in pleasure, rising higher. “You’re almost there.” He stares down at me and those grey eyes are beautiful and dark and full of need that—

  I explode, my body pulsating as I come on his fingers. I tighten around him, my legs trembling. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

  With hands that shake, he digs around in his back pocket until a condom appears. Ripping it open, he slides it down. I’m toeing my boots off and shoving down my leggings and underwear. He’s watching me, his hand palming his cock. With a growl, he picks me up, cupping my ass in his hands. He’s rough, his fingers digging into my skin, a man who knows what he wants, and I moan in anticipation. This is the fastest, craziest sex I’ve ever had, but I know what to do. My legs wrap around him and hang on tight. He presses me against the wall and lines himself up. He tugs at my hair, looking into my eyes, and he pushes inside my wet body full throttle, my walls clinging to him. It’s a tight fit and we both gasp, our chests heaving in the silence as the fullness of him settles in. My back presses into the wall, feeling the pressure of a framed picture that’s hanging there, and I ignore it because shit, nothing matters but this.

  “So goddamn good,” he says in a gravelly voice when he slides out and then right back in again as if he can’t resist giving me every inch.

  “Yes,” I gasp, and I don’t even know this wild creature I’ve become. I don’t know anything but this feeling, this sensation, this man.

  The sounds of our sex and our breathing are loud, and I don’t care. I kiss him hard, grinding my lips against his, and he kisses me back, like he needs me to breathe, like he might die without the taste of my lips. He puts his fingers on my clit and rotates, taking me with long strokes, as if he knows my body so damn well, and I tighten around him and fall over the edge into shards of lightning and stardust. I groan, my body stiffening and reeling as I arch forward, the orgasm lingering as he pumps into me, swiveling his hips like a man who’s fucked against a wall a million times. He presses my hands above my head and owns me with his dick, sliding in and out. He gives me everything and it isn’t pretty or sweet, but it’s perfect. He shouts and goes over the edge, pumping and twitching inside me.

  Seconds pass and only the sound of our deep breaths breaks the silence. My legs unravel themselves from his waist and settle on the floor. He leans down to gaze at me, his hands on the wall on either side of my face. “Fuck. That was…” He stops and swallows.

  Yeah.

  My cheeks feel red and I rub my face, taking in gulps of air.

  Breathing just as heavily, he takes a step back. I watch as he takes the condom off and tosses it in the trash. “You doing okay there, babe?”

  Babe.

  “Yeah.” No time to even address that. I push the feelings that word evokes down and shake my head, my fingers raking through my hair, trying to find my headband, but it’s long gone. I’m darting around, grabbing my clothes from the floor.

  He’s quiet, watching me. “Hey, did I misread your signals?”

  I look up at him. “No, no, you didn’t.” I don’t elaborate. Honestly, I can’t even process what just happened. r />
  I manage to fix my bra and get my underwear back on. My sweatshirt and leggings are next.

  “Then why are you running off?” He straightens his shirt and adjusts his jeans, zipping them up.

  “I’m not. It’s late and I have to get up early.” My voice quivers and I cough, trying to hide my…nervousness?

  He watches me shove my boots back on. “Come home with me.”

  “More sex?” My mouth opens. I’m not sure my heart can take it.

  “Maybe, maybe not. I might have to fuck you in my car before we get there.” His words are silky, promising another round of incredible sex, and he gives me a heavy-lidded, expectant look, as if he knows I’m going to say yes and he’s just waiting to hear it.

  There’s a long pause in the room as we stare at each other.

  You know you want to, baby, his eyes say.

  You don’t know me, mine say.

  Yet there’s another conversation in my head, one I don’t let him see, where I debate going home with him and losing myself in his arms.

  But Bennett pops up in my mind, an image of him with girls fighting to get to him on stage. It’s not like Zack is my boyfriend—as if—but part of me is smart enough to know that going with him is playing with fire. Zack Morgan is an inferno that will burn me up. There’s something about him that makes me lose my breath. And that…that must not be allowed.

  “I—I can’t. I don’t know you. I’m not sure I like you.” It’s a little blunt, but I think he’s the kind of guy who appreciates the truth, and I’m not one to lie.

  He pauses and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, his brow going low. “I see.”

  But he doesn’t. He looks pissy.

  Maybe he’s never been turned down for a second round.

  I chew on my lips. “This was really…”

  “Fucking hot.”

  I frown. “Yeah, but you can have that with anyone. I don’t do this kind of thing. This isn’t me.” I clutch my purse.

  Those intense grey eyes spear me, cooling from molten steel to a wintry stormy color. “I see.”

  My eyes dart around the room. “Look, it was nice to meet you and I hope you have a good hockey season—”