3:AM Kisses (2 page)

God, he sounds just like Cole. If I hear what a “good girl” I’m supposed to be one more time, I’m going to hurl all over his shiny new tennis shoes. As much as I love my brother, I’m tired of him reminding me of what a little angel I am. Honestly, sometimes it feels as if Cole wants to keep me a little girl forever.

“Yeah, well, being a good girl is highly overrated.” I should know. Much to Cole’s approval, I am one.

We step out, and I follow the number on the doors all the way down the hall. Most of the doors are opened, exposing the fact girls are busy decorating their miniaturized abodes with wall decals and superfluous purchases from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Music blares from a room to our right and a tall redhead stomps out and tapes a poster of a fuzzy white kitten over her door that reads, A, B, C, D, E, then below the fuzzy cute kitty, F.U.

“Nice,” I say, glancing over at the demigod of moving day. “Looks like I’m not the only friendly one around here.”

“That’s Roxy.” He leans in as he says it, and his warm cologne washes over me like a private heat wave. He smells good, clean like warm spices mixed with soap. His silver-blue eyes sear into mine, and an earthquake rolls through my body. “She’s pretty nice on days that don’t end in Y.”

“Again, just like me.” My throat runs dry, and it takes all of my effort to break our gaze. I step up to room 315 and pause. “Here I am.” I pump my shoulders excited to be anywhere I might actually belong. After Dad died, Mom uprooted us to Texas where I always felt a little out of place. But this is
college
—my dorm. I’m going to finally fit in. And I’ll have a roommate. What could be better than that? I bet we’ll be friends for life, closer than sisters. I’ve always secretly wanted a sister, not that I’d trade Cole for one. He’s pretty amazing as far as big brothers go. But I’m desperately in need of a little estrogen in my life, someone to dish about boys at all hours of the night over a carton of Cherry “breakup” Garcia. Someone to peruse the Victoria’s Secret catalog with while debating boy-shorts or thongs, someone who can really appreciate Green Goddess dressing for what it truly is—culinary perfection.

I unlock the door and swing it wide open for my duffle-bag-wielding friend, but Conan the Chivalrous demands I enter first. The room itself is smaller than a hiccup with twin beds on either side and not much else. A bare wall greets me on one side and on the other—

The comforter is moving, slow and lethargic, like there’s a giant anaconda buried deep beneath it.

Oh God, my insides cinch with fear. I hate to break it to my new dorm sister, but I don’t do snakes, or rats, or even some of those little beady-eyed purse puppies that have a propensity to growl at people. Then a tangle of limbs pop out from beneath the sheets. A heavy demonic moan escapes the tiny bed as a waterfall of blonde hair floats to the floor.

Oh God, she’s going to be sick.

Just as I’m about to kick over the trashcan, a bare hairy ass hikes into the air, and her equally hairy legs bend in flexion. Oh wow, she’s got some serious follicular issues, but I totally won’t hold it against her. In fact, it makes me like her more. I bet the poor thing never wears a bikini. I had a friend in high school who actually had the misfortune of growing hair on her chest. She was well on her way to morphing into a baboon before junior year. It’s just one of those freak things that nature unleashes on poor unsuspecting testosterone-riddled girls, and there’s not a whole lot you can do about it other than wax yourself silly, and God knows that’s a little piece of hell right there.

I take a step forward just as the comforter flops off the bed.

Gah!
There’s two of them! And one of them is a
boy
!

I watch in horror as the hairy ass bumps and grinds while beneath him a svelte blonde lets out a satisfying “
Oh yes! Oh yes, yes, yes!
”

“Oh no. Oh
no
,
no
,
no
.” My hand flies to my lips, my feet still rooted to the floor.

The hairy ass picks up his pace, and the girl’s boobs flops back and forth as if they were waving hello.

“Oh my, God.” I push my face in the dip-wick’s rock hard chest and lose myself momentarily rubbing my cheek against him. Good God, he’s skin over steel.

“Whoa,” he says, lowering the duffle bag to the floor. “Maybe we should just get going for now.” He presses his hand in the small of my back, and my spine electrifies as he ushers me into the hall. He closes the door behind him as his laughing eyes magnetize to mine. “Welcome to your first day of school, princess.” He gives a crooked grin, and this time it makes me feel oddly safe like he’s just rescued me from some sexual dungeon of perversion. “Bryson Edwards.” He holds out a hand, strong and thick, and a part of me wants to bite down over his fingers then extricate them from my mouth in a sexual manner rather than shake them.

“Baya.” It rasps from me just barely audible.

His fingers clasp over mine, his eyes seal themselves over my features, pulling me in as if rescuing me from the deepest end of the ocean.

“Baya.” He gives a brief nod, and that veiled sadness returns to his eyes. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He leans in. A look of seduction sweeps over him. “Why don’t I get you out of here.”

I give a coy smile up at his blond eminence. “I double dog dare you.”

The temperature outside feels as if it’s just dropped twenty degrees. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact I was sweating all the way down in the elevator while visions of my dorm room being defiled swirled in my head. Talk about your first day trauma and drama. As if the fact my boobs insisted on taking a look around campus wasn’t bad enough—although technically my new roommate showed me up in the boob drama department. She was large and in charge, and, holy shit, those things were spinning out of control like hands on some demonic clock.

Right about now I’m starting to lose any sisterly connection I was feeling toward my new roommate. Her inability to blush while busting a move has quickly relegated her to more of a distant slutty cousin who I’m not opposed to removing.

I take in a lungful of air trying to cleanse my mind from the sight, but that hairy ass haunts me behind my lids, and, now, it’ll forever be locked in my subconscious, taunting me as it bounces into the air. Crap. I can never un-see that.

A tall row of pines campaign for my attention. I choose to ignore the fact I just threw up a little in the back of my mouth and force myself to take in the scenery. The evergreens spear out like skyscrapers all along the outline of campus, and their sweet perfume infiltrates my senses.

“You want to grab some coffee?” Bryson cinches a smile and moves in close as we traverse an entire minefield of bicycles. My father loved to ride. He died that way, too. I try not to think about it, but, with my mind buzzing a million miles an hour, nothing seems off limits today.

“Coffee?” I pause to gaze up at Bryson’s eyes, the exact shade of the pale sky and my toes curl at the sight of him. A brief vision of him raking his naked body over mine, moaning in my ear with passion, blinks through my mind, grey and fuzzy like a bad cable connection. He’s so stunningly gorgeous, and, for the most part, gorgeous guys don’t have too much to do with me. I’m guessing my boobs cast some sort of nipple spell on him, and now he thinks a homerun is in the works by midnight. For all I know he’s got some boob fetish he’s looking to satisfy. “I’d better not. I need to find my brother. I’ve texted him like six times since I got here, and he’s pretty much ignored me which isn’t like him.” I’m more than a little worried, but I’m guessing he dropped his phone in the toilet or left it at home and went for a hike.

I spin in a slow circle trying to orient myself. The tall Gothic-style buildings give this place that Hogwarts’ vibe I’ve always secretly craved, and the pepper trees, the weeping willows, the overgrown maples only lend to the magic. “I think I’ll head over to the Briggs Apartment building. That’s where he’s staying. His name is Cole Brighton, have you heard of him?”

His head ticks back a notch. “Cole?” A tiny smile tugs at his lips. They look full and soft, and I bet kissing them would feel like falling into a bed of clouds—erotic, cocky clouds—nevertheless, he’s still way out of my league. “Everyone knows Cole. I’m headed that way.” He lands his hand over my shoulder, and my skin sizzles. “I’ll take you right to him.”

“Really? Thank you!” Everyone knows Cole, huh? I’m not sure why my brother’s popularity surprises me. Cole is the nicest, most noble, decent guy on the planet. And now I’m suddenly thrilled to have bumped into Mr. Muscles here because he’s going to take me right to him. “You know, you’re proving yourself to be more than a pair of perfect biceps,” I tease.

He gives a wry smile. “And you’re proving to be more than a perfect pair of—”

I spike a finger in the air. “Don’t even think about it.”

Bryson moves in close with a wicked grin sliding up his cheeks. He’s more sex god than he is scholastic welcoming committee, and suddenly it feels as if he’s navigating me to his chambers for a little coital inauguration. That tender place between my legs twitches with approval because if anyone is going to give me a little coital inauguration, I’d prefer it was him.

I try to ignore his oozing sexuality and let the mountain air distract me. The thick scent of pines perfume the vicinity with the slight after bite of fresh mountain soil. It’s so pretty here with the tall emerald evergreens, the Sugar Maples with their leaves as wide as hands waving in the breeze. That’s what I should be focusing on, the beauty in nature and not the ode to testosterone next to me who happens to be eliciting an electrical spark in the most intimate part of me with every third step.

We hit the crosswalk just as the light changes and cross the street with an entire herd of people. I’m not used to this mass of humanity. The entire population of the small town I’m from could fit right here in this crowd. A group of girls dressed in short skirts pass us. Their heads turn to check out Bryson, and the lean mean, machine he possesses as his body. The one with long black hair strokes his cheek as we walk on by.

“Looks like all the girls here are pretty friendly,” I muse as we head toward a well-landscaped courtyard with a gilded sign reading,
Briggs Apartments, vacancies available! Inquire within.

“Not as friendly as you, sugar.” He gives a quick wink, and my stomach ignites like a burning coal. “Your roommate looked pretty friendly.” He holds the door open for me, as we move into the overly air-conditioned building.

“Something tells me you’ll find out for yourself exactly how friendly she is.”

We step into the elevator and glide on up. Bryson inspects me from head to toe as if he were mapping me out with those spotlight eyes of his. It’s like being under the scrutiny of a microscope each time he glances my way. It’s as if he’s looking straight into my soul, examining the flaws in the fiber of my being while reading my personal history like a textbook. Not that there’s anything of interest to read. My life in general has been boring as toast. That seems to be the only consistency in my world.

God, I hope he’s not some freak with a duffle bag fixation getting ready to chain me to his bedpost in some sadomasochistic lair. And the way that sultry smile keeps blinking on and off, I’m not too sure I’d mind. He’s a bad boy, I can tell. I can spot them a mile away. I’ve got some serious troublemaker radar, and usually my gut warns me to steer clear, but there’s something about this one that makes me want to fall to my knees and give him ten thousand lashes with my tongue in places that neither lashes nor tongues should ever venture. He’s the exact type of guy Cole is forever telling me to stay away from. The kind that want nothing more than to nail me to the mattress, then forget my name by morning.

“Jeanie Waters.” He nods, and I stare into him blankly because, holy shit, he’s already forgotten my name. “That’s your roommate,” he continues. “And, for the record, I’ve already tapped that well.”

I blink back with surprise. “Um, thanks for the info, I think? And
eww
. I honestly gave you a little more credit than that. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Greek who reduces women to water bearing vessels.”

“Well you pegged me wrong—
twice
. For one, I’m not a Greek.” We get off on the seventh floor, and he leads us to the nearest door. “And two, I’m not into degrading women to water bearing vessels, either.” He slips a key into the lock, and the door opens to a clean looking living room with a pair of brown leather sofas, a TV the size of the wall. “I prefer notches.”

“Very funny.” I step in hesitantly. “So, you’ve lured me to your lair. Good trick. Is this where I get to test my rape whistle? Or do you prefer mace? I’ve got both handy.” I pat down my jeans to confirm this theory and come up empty. Double crap.

“Lured you to my lair?” He moans it out as if trying to seduce me. “And here I thought you wanted to catch up on good times with your big bro?” He strides over to the hall and gives a psychotically loud knock over the nearest door. “Wake the hell up. You’ve got a visitor,” he shouts.