“Cool. Love me some Sins.” I’ve been a fan of the 12 Deadly Sins long before their career took off. Blake mentioned they have music executives lined up around the block wanting in on the action.
“Nice. Don’t commit any.”
“Very funny. So I guess that means Marley and Roxy are here.” A slight frown takes over my lips.
“Somewhere.” He looks over the top of my head into the crowd. “You want a drink? And I’m talking soda. I don’t want to see you doing any underage imbibing.”
“Duly noted, but I’m not thirsty. Thanks anyway. I guess I’ll catch you later.” I hike up on my tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I need to mingle, or my ponytail runs the risk of getting chopped.”
Wyatt’s dimples go off disapprovingly. “You sure this sorority thing is what you want?”
“Of course, it is. Where else am I going to find a group of two hundred girls to get into some serious shenanigans with?”
“Keep it legal.” He gives my pony a quick tug before taking off.
Owen. My eyes scan the vicinity, frantic, as if looking for a missing child. I know for a fact in less than five minutes I’ll have Jules and Lucille all over my ass in an attempt to super glue Winston to my hip. Then the sea parts down the middle, and an entire choir of babies with wings breaks out in song and all that other bullshit because the best looking boy in the room just so happens to be grinning at me—Owen.
I give a spastic wave as I make my way over—Wyatt be damned—just as a tall, suit wearing, block toothed, admittedly handsome barrier pops up between us.
“I’ve been looking for you all night.” Winston pulls me into a strong embrace. He smells of thick cologne, something spicy and expensive. His suit feels scratchy against my skin, confirming that it’s made from the priciest wool. I glance over his shoulder, and Owen salutes me with a beer as his buddies stand on either side of him. Crap. “My mom is really excited to meet you.” Winston pulls back.
“Your mom?” I blink up at him, suddenly so focused on him as if we were the only two people in the room. Winston is nice, intelligent, handsome to a fault, but he’s just not the one for me. And now his mother is somehow involved? Things just got a bit too out of hand for me.
I give a quick glance around the room in hopes to find someone to pull me out of this mess, like Cassidy, but, instead, I’m met with a smiling Jules and Lucille. Dear God, are they ever not together? Maybe they’re the ones glued at the hips. Jules gives a thumbs up, and I turn away in hopes my hand won’t gesticulate how I’m really feeling and flip her the bird.
“Yeah, my mom is great.” Winston steps in front of me. “She’s getting the guesthouse set up for us. She’ll be there Friday, but she’s leaving for a girls’ weekend, so we’ll have the ranch to ourselves. My dad is away on business in Europe. The horses are ready for us. I hope you like riding. I want to take you out about three miles to a river that butts against the mountainside. It’s really gorgeous. I know you’ll love it. But if you don’t want to ride, we can just hang out.” His eyes dip to my cleavage and take their time rising back to meet with mine. “You know, play it by ear.”
I’m certain he means play it by penis. I get it. He’s a guy. He thinks we’re headed in that direction. I’ve given him no reason not to believe it. In fact, if it wasn’t for Owen and my newfound feelings for him, I might have happily gone along to meet Winston’s mother, think of him as my new boyfriend—play it by ear, penis, and vagina.
The conversation goes on in that direction. More talk of the trip. The discovery of more things in common. We really do work on some level as a couple, but at the end of the day it, whatever it is, isn’t there.
Blake jumps on stage and opens with a slow song. Ugh. I frown over at him, and he winks. Dear God, I think he’s done this just to embarrass me.
“You in?” Winston holds out a hand. I glance back at the pack of ponytails and spot Jules and Lucille scooting me toward the dance floor with the shove of their hands.
Perfect. I avert my gaze a moment.
“I’m in,” I say a little less enthusiastically than I probably should have and take his hand as he wraps his arm around my waist. Winston is a total gentleman, and by that I mean he’s not grinding his crotch into my stomach, which I appreciate.
I lean my head past his shoulder and spot Owen staring right at us. Crap. My stomach drops at the sight. He nods over, and my body heats to unnatural levels. Our eyes lock for a moment before I forcibly look away. He’s alone now. His friends have scattered, leaving him solo as he nurses his beer. I glance back, and Owen offers the sad curve of a smile, his lids hang low and heavy as if it were hard to watch. Everything in me wishes it were him holding me like this.
Winston leans in and brushes his cheek against the top of my head. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
“Um, thank you.”
I pull back, my eyes still affixed on Owen’s scorching gaze, and I blink him away. I hate that this is happening. One more weekend of this bullshit then I can get on with the rest of my life.
The song comes to an end, and Blake switches it up to raucous levels that I’m in no mood to gyrate to, so both Winston and I step off the dance floor.
“You know what?” I carefully unwrap his arm from around my waist. “I think I see someone I know. I’ll catch you later!” I shout over the band.
“Pack light for the weekend.” His lips do this strange wave of a smile, and for the first time it makes him look smarmy. “You won’t be needing a lot of clothes. There are plenty of things we can do without them.” He winks and takes off into the crowd.
Subtle much?
A mean shudder runs through me. Winston and I are hardly at that level. Hell, I’m hardly at that level with Owen, and he and I have logged some serious time swapping spit. In fact, I think I owe him both an apology and an explanation. I head to the bar and find the stool he’s been warming for the last hour empty.
Crap.
I do a quick look around and spot his friend Jet, aka Dr. Happy Needle, talking to two blondes in matching red dresses. That’s Gamma’s signature look. I hate that the girls all have a theme going on in each sorority, and yet the guys come as they are. I head over and sandwich myself between the Gamma girls.
“Excuse me?” I give a little wave. “Have you seen Owen?”
Jet gives me a curious look before his features smooth out. “He went to work. How’s the tat?” He makes a face because we both know the tat didn’t quite work out for me.
“Craptastic.” One of the Gamma girls bumps me with her crimson swaying hip, and I land against his rock hard chest. “Sorry.” I pull back and smooth out his shirt. “So, where does he work?” I try to sound casual, tilting my head as if I were really indifferent about the whole thing. Ironic since the stalking shoe is now officially on the other foot. I’ve been dying to know where it is exactly that Owen punches a clock. Every time I bring it up, he changes the subject.
“Here and there.” Jet takes each of the blondes by the hand and leads them to the dance floor, letting them shimmy up and down his body like a stripper pole. Sadly, in those skintight costumes, they don’t look too far off from the real deal.
Here and there. I glance back at the blob of Alpha Chi PNMs, with their matching ponytails, their red lips opening and closing like a weeping wound. I’d rather be “there”— wherever that might be—with Owen than here.
Maybe Alpha Chi isn’t what I want.
Maybe it’s Owen.
Owen
Late Friday afternoon, the end of three grueling weeks of school, and I think it’s safe to determine that all of my classes pretty much suck, but that’s only because Piper isn’t in them. It’s true. She’s infiltrated, dug into the trenches of my mind, my heart, and has me scrounging for any little part of her. It’s her I long to see while walking from class to class. I need a Piper fix. Just one glimpse is enough to dull this ache twisting my belly up in knots.
It killed me to see t
hat douchebag holding her last night, whispering into her ear, making her smile. I’m not sure what she’s doing with me. I know that he’s the one that the Alpha dogs have determined she should be with, and maybe she should. Piper comes from a good family. She’s sweet, wholesome. For the most part, both my mother and father have rejected me, kicked me to the curb once Aubree exchanged her designer wardrobe for prison duds, and here I am struggling to survive the only way I know how. If Piper knew what I did to keep a roof over my head, she wouldn’t be too impressed. She sure as hell wouldn’t want her “boyfriend” doing this shit, and I know for a fact she wouldn’t be bragging about my skills to her parents. Her brothers might flat out kill me if they thought I was corrupting her in some way. I couldn’t blame them. I wouldn’t want Ava dating anyone like me.
The sky cracks overhead as thunder drums across the expanse, and I duck into Hallowed Grounds for cover. The line isn’t too bad, so I hop over, and it’s not until a good five minutes drift by do I realize I’m standing directly behind the prick that had his greasy mitts locked around Piper’s waist.
I’ll be honest—Winston doesn’t seem like a total asshole. Admittedly, I’d like him a hell of a lot more if he were interested in groping someone else.
He’s talking to his buddy a mile a minute about his weekend plans at his parents’ ranch—something about his mother, and I want to laugh. Here I am worried he’s trying to land Piper in his bed, and he’s talking about spending some quality time with his mom. I almost feel like an ass.
“So, are you going to fuck her?” The preppy dude next to him ribs him with his elbow.
“That’s the plan.” Winston sniffs with pride.
What the hell? Is fuck your mother preppy code for something? Hell, I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but that is one twisted concept.
“She’s really opening up to me. I like her.” He shrugs, and I get the feeling we’re not talking about Mommy Dearest anymore. “Piper is sweet.” He cracks a wicked grin, and my stomach drops like lead to the floor. “And I’m betting she tastes that way, too.”
His friend slaps him over the shoulder, and I consider slapping them both.
“We’ll have the entire weekend,” Winston continues. “I’m not pushing it until Saturday night. I’ll pull out all the stops—dinner, wine, music. I can really see us together in the long run. I don’t remember feeling like this about anyone, ever. There’s something special about her. I don’t know, dude. Maybe she’s the one.”
Shit.
“The future Mrs. Stanford?” The idiot friend socks Winston in the arm. “Sounds serious, man.”
“It is—at least for me. I knew that first night I saw her I had to have her. Good old Jules came through. Fucking Alpha Chi.”
“Trafficking girls to Sigma Theta Tau—going on four decades. We should hold a mixer in their honor.”
“You kidding?” Winston leans back on his heels. “Our dicks have been funding their mixers for decades. They should lick our balls on a regular basis.”
“Sounds like your balls are getting licked this weekend.”
They move to the front of the line, and I head out the door. I don’t need any coffee. I let the rain soak my clothes all the way back to my apartment, trying to wrap my head around the fact that Piper would agree to go anyplace with the Preppy Prince of Sigma Theta Tau.
The thought of her licking him anywhere makes me want to vomit.
* * *
A little after six there’s a knock at the door, and for a moment I contemplate hopping into the shower and pretending I didn’t hear it. But instead, I push aside my statistics homework and get my lazy ass off the couch.
I’m hoping it’s Ava, but since I’m taking her to see Aubree tomorrow, I very much doubt she’s paying me a visit. She’s at that age where she doesn’t want too much to do with her big brother. Maybe it’s Ryder. I called in and told him I couldn’t make it to the internship today—although, I did find three local corporations that are willing to see a marketing package. If I can score at least one of those, my rent will be covered for almost two months. The less hours I have to pull at work, the more damn sleep I can manage to get.
I look through the peephole and spot Piper’s beautiful, albeit pissed off face. She’s bouncing her gaze off the ceiling, flipping me the bird, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hello, beautiful,” I say, swinging open the door.
“Are you fucking with me?” She’s back to psycho bitch mode, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to liking it just a little.
“I can easily ask you the same question.” But I won’t. We’re not dating. We’re not anything. She can take off for a weekend with the preppy prick any damn time she pleases.
Piper’s eyes begin to water. Her face turns pink with the look of rage still very much alive on her face. I’ve never seen anyone spin so many emotions at the same time. She steps inside and slams the door shut so hard the walls tremble around us.
Her mouth opens, presumably to scold me, but the words never quite make it. She’s struggling to hold back tears. Her lips involuntarily quiver. Piper openly glares at me as if I just ripped the heads off a dozen little kittens, and sadly I glare right back, because each time she blows me off for that fuckface in a suit, it feels as if she’s ripped my balls right off my body.
Piper takes a bold step closer to me. Her dark hair frames her like a demonic halo, her eyes glow unnaturally like a cat caught in the headlights, and her mouth, those damn pouty lips, beg me to make them mine. The sweet scent of her perfume envelops me like a sugarcoated cloud, and a tiny smile can’t help but tug on my lips.
Her anger grows like a wildfire, and, for a brief moment, I think she might make that ball-swiping scenario a reality. Instead, she crashes her lips to mine. Her tongue forces its way into my mouth as she rakes over me with a kiss bent on vengeance. My arms find their way around her beautiful body and pull her to me tight until her tits grind into my chest. A hard series of moans ride up our throats, first from her, then from me. I pull us backward onto the couch as her cool hands ride up my abs.
“Owen.” She sighs, taking a sharp bite from my ear. She works my shirt off before ripping off her sweater. Piper lays her heated body over mine, and I close my eyes, soaking in the feel of skin over skin. My emotions flood me to the brim, and a part of me wants to shed a few of my own fucking tears. It feels so damn good like this with Piper.
Her mouth lands over mine once again, hot and wild before she tracks her hot lips down my neck, down to my chest where she lands over my nipple ring.
“Shit.” I grunt as she clamps her teeth over it and gives a little tug. It feels insane, electric, as if she plugged me in and tossed me into a body of water. My dick hardens to steel in an instant. It doesn’t take much when Piper is around, and her mouth doing these things to me only adds fuel to the fire.
I want to fuck her. I want to be with her. I want to be in her, and if this were any other girl, I wouldn’t give it another thought. But it’s not any other girl. It’s Piper James—sweet and spicy, hot and cold, the girl I want to fully give myself to like I’ve never done before. I need to open myself up to her if we’re ever going to get where I’m hoping we’ll end up. I’ve given a shitload of advice to a crap ton of guys, and in this case I would have heavily encouraged them to be as open as possible about their lives to the girl they’re serious about. Don’t let any secrets come between you—I’ve said it a million times. Don’t give some damn skeleton a chance to rattle its bones and scare the shit out of the poor girl when she least expects it—I’ve said that just as much, and, here I am, a closet full of bones, ready and willing to take us down before we ever get off the ground.
Piper moves down lower, her face rubbing hard over my abs as she works her way to my belly button, lower still. Her fingers fumble with my jeans, and I grab her by the wrist and reel her back up.
“I won’t be able to stop.” I look into her drugged eyes, and we share a lazy grin. The lust inside
her matches my own, and my adrenaline spikes knowing this to be true. “When we are together—and we will be—it’s going to be fucking spectacular.”
Her chest bucks in lieu of a laugh. “Fucking spectacular?” She licks her ruby lips, glossing them with her spit. “I want that now. I want it with you.” She says that last half as if she had other options, and the preppy prick runs through my mind.
My lips twitch, not knowing whether to smile or frown. “You up for hanging out this weekend?”
Piper takes a breath and looks out the window as if I just knocked her off a stool she’s been perched on.
“I’m not sure.” She sighs so heavily her minty breath blows over my features. “I—I have some stupid shit I need to finish up for Alpha Chi.” She shakes her head, and the tears turn her eyes to glossy shards once again. “What about you?”
“Just work.” Crap. I was hoping to pull her out of that asshole’s grip. Hell, I was hoping that kiss we just shared convinced her to do so. “But I can always make time for you.” I swallow hard. In truth, I can’t afford to at this point, but for Piper I’d miss a week’s worth of hot meals just to have her here with me.
Her milky teeth graze over those ripe cherry lips as her fingers continue to swirl over my chest. It feels erotic, strangely relaxing, and exciting at the same time. I can come just looking at her, just feeling her touching me this way. It won’t take much with Piper. She is single-handedly the most beautiful girl I have ever had the privilege to have on my lap.
“So, what is it that you do for work?” She cocks her head to the side, and that curtain of black velvet hair falls seductively over one eye.
“I work with you.” I lift her hand to my lips. I need to cover her mouth with mine before we both land in a pile of shit of my own making. There is so much about what I do that I don’t want to talk about. I’m not proud, but I’m not embarrassed. This is just too pure of a moment to ruin with all that extracurricular crap I have spinning in the background. “I work for you.” A dark laugh moves through my chest. “Tell me what you want me to do, and consider it done.” I bury my lips in her palm and lick a line up her wrist. Piper takes in a sharp, quivering breath, and that’s when I know the conversation regarding my employment status is pretty much over.