The other guy—or should I say girl—got the worst of it.
I glance down and my gaze locks on a familiar pair of coffee-colored eyes.
Oh, shit.
Sutton’s flat on her ass, a blue and white duffle bag half her size, sitting next to her on the floor. She glares up at me for all she’s worth, but makes no move to stand.
“Sorry.” I flash her an apologetic smile and extend my hand. “I was in my head and I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah,” she says, batting my hand aside. “That seems like a recurring theme. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”
“I’m a D1 football player. My eyes are fine. Better than, actually.”
I’ve got 20/15 vision, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“I find that hard to believe.” She clutches the giant duffle bag to her chest and climbs to her feet. “You know, since you’re constantly running into me.”
“Or maybe you’re always running into me.” I step forward so only the bag separates us. She smells like jasmine again today, and the scent reminds me of home. Warmth floods my body, pooling in my chest and slowly trickling down to my abdomen. “In fact, now that I think about it, it’s almost like you’re following me. Consider me flattered. I’ve never had a stalker before.”
Her breath hitches—the sound music to my ears—and my cock stirs, desire tightening my balls.
Then, like she knows what I’m thinking, her lip curls. “You. Wish.”
Yeah, I kind of do.
Sutton and I might not be able to hold a civil conversation, but who needs words when you’ve got explosive chemistry?
I’m not sure what it says about me that I find this woman absolutely irresistible when she’s pissed.
Probably that you need to get laid.
Maybe. I haven’t been with a woman since returning to campus, but it’s hardly the longest I’ve gone without sex.
She stares up at me, a silent challenge glinting in her eyes, and fuck me, I have to meet it. After all, I’m not about to leave a gorgeous woman wanting.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Sutton.” I lean in close, savoring the sweet scent of her perfume, and pitch my voice low. “When it comes to women, I prefer to be the one doing the chasing.”
Her mouth drops open, and she quickly snaps it shut.
Another beat passes as she looks up at me from under her lashes, the tension between us edging toward combustion. Then my fingers are tangled in her hair, sweeping a blue tendril away from her face. I tuck it behind her ear and my palm grazes her cheek. Her skin is smooth.
Silky.
So fucking soft.
“Don’t touch me.” The order is little more than a whisper, but I withdraw my hand.
“Just trying to help.” I roll my shoulders, letting the rejection slide off my back. “It looked like you could use a hand.”
She sniffs. “I don’t need your help.”
“You sure?” I glance at the massive duffel, which is still clutched to her chest like the Holy Grail. “That thing is almost as big as you are.”
Which isn’t suspicious at all.
Yeah, right. I’ve spent enough time around pranking assholes to know when something is off, and right now, my Spidey sense is in overdrive. Sutton has no business being in the football building, not even on game day.
Hell, especially on game day.
