Chased (2 page)

I hate being bored. It makes me feel useless. I need something to keep me busy, or I start thinking too damned much.

When I get home I see an invite for a Greek party Spence left on the counter.

Sorority girls and kegstands are more his scene than mine. But what the hell. I know some people there.

When I arrive the sorority house, the music’s bumping and the crowd is thick. The girls look hot. Despite my no randoms policy, I’d be tempted to take one home.

Except for my bad mood.

I make my way through the house, which is massive and seriously tricked out. Some SoCal band is blasting through the speaker, preaching the merits of life on the beach.

I never considered pledging, even though a few houses asked me to. I don’t have the constitution for it.

Among other things
.

I’m on my way toward the kitchen when I see her.

At first I’m not sure it
is
her. Until she reaches up to touch her long, blond hair, tucking a piece behind her ear.

The careful move doesn’t match her outfit. She’s wearing a fire engine red dress that looks painted on and standing at the bottom of the staircase, next to the railing.

Someone moves out of the way between us and I get a good look for the first time.

Her legs are a mile long. And you can see almost all of them. She’s wearing these shoes that are probably made for two things: torturing the wearer and forcing a guy’s attention to her ass.

Which I suddenly wish I had a better angle at.

Glancing around, I see at least three guys eye-fucking her, but she’s talking with Dave something or other, a guy I ran with two years ago. The quiet girl from Varis’ office just twenty-four hours ago is smiling up at him like it’s a goddamn debutante ball. As if someone
else
dressed her like every frat guy’s wet dream and she didn’t get the memo.

Dave leaves, smiling, probably to get her another drink. Her eyes track him across the room.

“Hey, princess.” The girl jumps when I come up behind her. “Is this your new idea for getting back on the team? Sleep your way back on? You might want to start with Coach Varis instead of Dave the Douche.”

Her suspicious eyes run over me. I know I look different in a button down and jeans instead of running clothes. Hell, I look different than I did a year ago when I’d last been on the team. Twenty pounds of extra muscle on a six-foot frame will do that to you.

“I’m not trying to sleep my way back on,” she responds. “It’s none of your business, but Dave’s not a douche. Some guys actually want relationships --”

“No.”

She blinks. “No what?”

“No, no guys actually want relationships. And you shouldn’t either. Not if you want to be the best. You want to win races? And I’m not talking a neighborhood 5ks, I’m talking national championships.”

She stares back at me. Her eyes are blue. Not the color of the sky, or birds, but slate blue. Almost gray.

“Do you?” I demand.

“Yes.” She murmurs the word like all she really wants for me to leave. And I’m not sure why I won’t, except that she so clearly wants me to.

“It isn’t just how fast you run. It’s what you let in your head.” I brace one hand on the staircase railing and lean into her, tapping my index and middle fingers of my other hand lightly on her temple.

Her breath catches and my body takes notice. The fact that she’s annoyingly naïve is suddenly less important than the fact that she’s half-dressed and within easy reach. Biology’s predictable that way.

“Close your eyes.”

She frowns, then looks around us. “Why?”

“Do it.” I wait for her to say no. To tell me to go to hell.

Instead she complies, but her hand tightens on her Solo cup.

Interesting
.

It’s false bravado, but it makes me wonder what else is going on under that quiet exterior.

“See, princess,” I murmur, taking advantage of the fact she can’t see me to step closer. “There’s a difference between feelings and skin. This? It’s just skin.” I run my knuckles down her arm, feeling where each one connects with her, and
shit
, she’s softer than I expected.

Her eyes fly open. Startled.

“Come on,” I goad. “You’re old enough to be at this party, you’re old enough to do this. So trust yourself.”

She’s fighting with herself. Finally those thick, dark lashes lower again. I allow myself a moment to look at her face, wondering what she was planning on doing with Dave. Were they going to exchange numbers? Kiss in the corner? Or is the good girl thing all an act, and was she biding her time until they snuck off to somewhere she’d be sweating and moaning under him?

Without knowing what I’m doing, I bend my mouth to her ear. Just breathe near her. I can smell her, strawberries.

I trace a finger around the shell of her ear. I’ve never really looked at an ear before, and I wonder vaguely if they’re all as perfect as hers.

The sensation shoots up my arm as my finger reaches her cheek, trailing down to her jaw. Slower, because this is going to be over too quick.

Now she’s shaking as my finger grazes her chin. Her eyebrows are drawn together like she’s fighting it but she’s not afraid. Or if she is, it’s not of me.

Her sweet pink lips part and a spike of heat shoots straight down my spine to my dick.

I can’t help myself. I’m not on the program anymore. We’re in a roomful of people but I don’t see any of them.

“I know you feel it,” I murmur, my lips grazing her ear. I have to resist the temptation to suck on it. That perfect diamond, probably real, dotting her lobe. Just to see what she’d do. “Don’t be ashamed. You’re human. But no matter how good it feels, how personal…“ I pull back, let my thumb brush her plump lower lip. I imagine that mouth wrapped around my cock and realize I’m hard. “…In the end, it’s just skin.”

The party’s all around us, deafening laughter and flirting, but it’s melted away.

When she opens her eyes her pupils are big and round. Her cheeks are flushed and I swear I can feel her heart hammering in her chest.

We’re inches apart and I can read those eyes like a book. They’re saying
this feels intimate
. 

And
fuck me
, because even though this is supposed to be a lesson, I’m feeling it too.

“So you’re saying to be the best you have to be a monk.” Her throat’s scratchy and it gives me an ounce of satisfaction.

“No. I’m saying you’ve gotta keep down the burn in your gut so it doesn’t interfere.”

The kicker is, I can picture blowing off steam with her. Pressing her up against a wall at the foot of the stairs I can see out of the corner of my eye. Grabbing her hip possessively, my mouth claiming her neck, her shoulders, pushing down her shirt. Pressing my hips into her, those slate eyes drifting closed in pleasure. When I picture it, she’s not indifferent. Instead she’s begging me with that mouth, because she wants me to do everything with her.

I mentally shake my head to clear it. I don’t even know this girl, and Ash is at least this hot.

But she doesn’t look at me like this.

With Ash it’s knowing. Expecting.

With this girl? She’s wary, aware. Uncertain. Like every part of her’s totally focused on me because she doesn’t know what I’ll do next. How she’ll feel next.

“Do you take signups?” she breathes, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Fuck
. I’m half ready to drag her upstairs and find a bathroom where I can press her up against the sink and see if this chemistry holds when she adds, “My roommate has a serious crush on you.”

Her roommate, huh?

I play along. “I don’t know about your roommate. I’m afraid it’s a bit more exclusive than that. But maybe
you
should try it sometime.” Unable to resist the urge, I wrap my hand around her waist and jerk her toward me. She puts her hands out, surprised, and they land on my shoulders.

I drop my mouth to hers. Quick, hard. Her lips part in surprise and for a second, five, I tease her with my tongue. A startled little noise escapes but it ends on a moan. Her body, too shocked to resist, molds to mine as I pull her hips against me.

How did I not think she was hot?

Finally she shoves me back. There’s fire in her eyes, but something else too. “Get off me.”

Then she’s gone, in a flash of red and miles of leg and heels that should be illegal.

I’m driving down the road away from campus, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel in a comforting rhythm. Rerunning tonight in my head. Like I do when something doesn’t play out like I expect.

I still remember the first rich girl I met. Lisa something.

She didn’t go to our school, or live in our neighborhood, but sometimes she’d go to the same video store on the corner. She wore nice clothes and looked away when I tried to catch her eye.

Then in high school, one of the girls from private school across town hunted me down and asked me if I’d have sex with her in the back of her father’s BMW.

That’s how I learned one of the world’s fundamental truths: rich girls always look at me like I’m dirt or a steak.

Neither of those bothers me. The thing that rubs like a papercut in my brain is that I’m starting to think Varis’ girl is neither of those. And frankly I’m not sure what’s left.

She looked every part the spoiled princess tonight. It caught me off guard and I hate when things do that. Tonight I could see the way her dress, hardly more modest than lingerie, hugged curves I’d ignored when I first saw her. Her blond hair streamed around her head like silk, and eyes threatened to rob me of…something.

I’m impulsive. Compulsive. But I’ve learned to value discipline, control to bury it all under. To harness it. But tonight the irritation forced my hand. I wanted to push her a little. See if she’d bend. Break.

Instead she might’ve beat me at my own game.

I’d lost my mind when she looked up at me with those big eyes, her mouth open like she wanted me to think about those lips sliding up and down me.

And I’m still trying to get her strawberry smell out of my head.

Something catches my eye and I do a double take. Unreal. Steering the truck in a U-turn, I slow to a crawl by the shoulder. Buzz down the window.

“Nice night for a stroll,” I comment.

The girl who’s taking up most of my mental processing shifts a duffle she’s got hoisted on her back.

She’s walking down the street in that mind-numbingly short red dress, the matching shoes dangling from her fingers. I realize she’s wearing sneakers and can’t help the bark of laughter.

“Where you going, basecamp?” I look at the giant pack she’s toting on her back. She says nothing. “So you’re going to keep me in suspense.”

“Guess so.”

I don’t know what her deal is. Most girls like to talk to me. Hell, after I’ve kissed them, most of them won’t shut up.

“I’ll keep driving until you tell me what happened.”

We crawl along for another fifty metres. She ignores me. Blatantly.

“You think you can outlast me, princess? I hold the state record for the half-marathon. And that’s
without
wheels.”

“I got kicked out.” The words come out the side of her mouth as she walks. If I hadn’t been listening so closely I would’ve missed them.

“Why?”

“My roommate thought I did something I didn’t.”

“What’s that?”

She stops and turns to face me, shoulders square as she stares me down.

“
You
, moron. I got back to my apartment tonight after the party to find my roommate had locked me out.”

“Huh?”

“Tess runs track too. She knew who you were when you came to practice and has a major crush on you. Tess saw us at the party tonight. Thought we were…I don’t know. Something. And she was pissed.”

It takes me a minute to put the pieces together.

The girl in front of me wasn’t asking for it. She really
had
been talking about her roommate.

I’d wanted to surprise her tonight, maybe shake her out of that cool shell. Instead it backfired. The way I’d impulsively touched her at the party shook
me
and got her kicked out.

Fucking genius, Owens.

My brain does some quick recalculating. “Get in,” I say abruptly.

“No way.”

“Listen, princess—“ My voice is tight. I’m getting seriously annoyed but that’s not going to solve this. I force myself to take a breath. “Hastings, right? Get in. I won’t touch you again. But you walk much farther you’ll run into someone a lot less friendly than me.”

She hesitates only a moment before opening the door and sliding in next to me. Her duffel sits on her lap. Those sexy as hell shoes go between us.

“That’s a great dress,” I say.

“Tess’ idea,” she sighs. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

She shoots me a look. “I don’t think so. Take me to my friend Ben’s? I’ll call him.”

I groan. “I’m not hitting on you, believe me. My roommate’s gone. You can crash tonight. I’m not driving you back to campus.”

“I didn’t think you were. But I’ll walk.”

I ignore her. Five minutes later we pull into the driveway of the small house just on the good side of the bad side of town. The neighbors are blue collar but they’ve got your back. It’s safe.

I turn off the truck and turn to her.

“I get it. You’re stubborn and independent and whatever. Stay here. Walk back. I don’t care. If you get picked up on the side of the road by some murderer and want to beat him into submission with your stubbornness, be my guest. It’s off my conscience.”

I get out of the truck, forcing myself not to look back to see if she’s following me up the stairs.