Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) (11 page)

The first one to turn and face me reminds me a little bit of Clay. He’s got dark hair that flops over his forehead and blue eyes that roam my body in a way that makes me feel almost dirty. I know he’s imagining all the things he’d like to do to me, and if I hadn’t had three glasses of beer tonight, there’s no way I’d approach him. Becca goes straight for one of his friends, but then he speaks to me, and I forget all about her.

“Hello beautiful,” he says in a deep voice, smiling down at me from where he stands at least five or six inches taller. I wonder fleetingly if he’s a basketball player. With his height, not being on the team would be a tragedy.

I shake my head to clear it, but it doesn’t help. I’m thinking all these random thoughts that don’t matter, but I can’t seem to stop. I go from muscles, to height, to wondering how it would feel if he put his arms around me. It’s been so long since someone held me like this. Not since prom senior year, right after my two-pump date collapsed on the bed next to me. I didn’t even have enough time to work up a sweat … it was that fast.

I’ve been in my head so long, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome is looking at me like I’m a psycho chick, one who’s about to offer to have his babies or drop to my knees right here in the kitchen and offer my services. Well, maybe not those opposite sides of the spectrum. I’m sure he’d say no to the babies but yes to the blowjob. Instead of responding to his hello, I gather all the fake courage sloshing uncomfortably in my stomach and stand on my tiptoes to slide my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to me.

As soon as our lips touch, he takes over the kiss, thrusting his tongue in my mouth and wrapping his strong arms around me. I melt into him, enjoying the attention, and reveling in the fact that he’s kissing me back. He presses into me, right there in front of his friends, and I can feel his erection lengthening against me.
What am I doing
? My brain is foggy, but not so foggy I don’t realize making out with some random dude is probably not the best idea I’ve ever had. I don’t even know his name. For all I know, he’s the type of guy who will pump twice and be done, or he’s taken so many steroids my pinky is bigger than his appendage.
Okay, that’s probably not the case considering I can
feel
it, and it doesn’t feel tiny
. But still, I digress.

I start to pull away from him, and he hauls me back against him, not releasing my mouth. He thinks this is part of the game. I put both hands on his chest to try to push him away, but he’s much stronger. I don’t think he even notices my movements. Panic starts to set in.
What am I going to do now
? Do I kick him? Bite the tongue that is currently exploring the roof of my mouth?
I just. Don’t. Know.

As close as he was, it’s a shock when he’s no longer there. His mouth is ripped away from mine so fast I’m left standing with my hands still in the air and my mouth wide open. I lift a shaky hand to my swollen lips as I close my mouth and look around to see where he went. It only takes a few seconds for me to find him.

Clay has him pinned against the wall, his forearm against his throat, and even though my mystery guy is a couple inches taller, Clay looks way more intimidating. My tonsil hockey partner has both hands up in the air as he attempts to talk Clay down, and when he finally releases him, mystery guy quickly heads in the opposite direction from where I am. I watch as Clay approaches, remorse and regret clear in his eyes, a much darker blue than they normally are. The closer he gets, the more dizzy I become, and I watch the look in his eyes change to concern just before darkness overtakes me.

Clay

I watch her eyes roll back and her lids closed just as her knees buckle. I reach her just before she hits the floor, feeling like the biggest piece of shit ever. Kat pissed me off making comments to her roommate about how I have an STD, and that I actually gave one to someone else. College isn’t much different from High School. Tell that kind of shit to the wrong person and suddenly half the campus thinks I’m infecting every girl I come across. It won’t matter if I had sex with them or not. They’ll be exposed to herpes just by sitting by me in class, or being behind me in line in the dining hall.

My anger led me to egg her on, to remind her of what she said at the restaurant. It’s not like I didn’t know she was full of shit at the time, though I was kinda stuck on the whole “I’m not a virgin” part of the conversation. Oddly, I wanted to demand to know who and when, so I could go kick someone’s ass. Protecting a girl’s virtue is not my deal, but damn if I didn’t want to do just that. From the look on her face it clearly wasn’t the best experience.

I remember my first time. It doesn’t matter how much porn you watch or how many times you jack your junk. The feel of a tight, wet pussy around you for the first time, well, it short-circuits your brain, and you’re lucky to know your own name. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I lasted about point two seconds the first time Emily let me stick it in, but I’m damn sure proud of the fact I’d watched enough porn to know how to get her off beforehand. Plus, it’s not like I was a complete newb the first time. I’d fingered a girl before I finally had sex; it just didn’t prepare me fully for what it would feel like when I stuck
that
part of my body inside.

This line of thought is
not
the right one when I’m holding a drunk, passed out girl in my arms. I look around for Becca but don’t see her. She must still be outside. I pick Kat up so I’m cradling her neck with one arm, and her knees are draped over the other while I scan the room, knowing there’s no way I can carry Kat around the house looking for her. When I spot Liam I jerk my head toward the front door. He nods once and starts making his way over to meet me.

Liam holds the door open so I can carry Kat through, careful not to bump her head on the side or edge of the railing as I walk carefully down the steps. The fleeting thought that it’s a good thing I work out every day crosses my mind, and I silently curse myself for it. Kat is by no means a heavy girl. She’s tall but lithe with long limbs and slender curves. Liam darts forward to open the passenger door, so I can gently place her in the seat. I fold her legs inside, so she looks more comfortable and pull the belt around her, fastening it quickly before quietly shutting the door.

“What the hell, man?” Liam questions.

I shoot him a glare. “What? She got drunk and passed out. What was I supposed to do? Leave her here?” Why is he giving me shit?

“I get it, I do, but …” He looks around. “Isn’t there anyone else who could take her home? You’re leaving before the party even gets good. Not to mention, you’re going to be missing out on some prime pieces of ass if you leave now. Unless …” he trails off and I raise an eyebrow at what he’s implying.

“Unless what?”

“Unless … you’re hoping to score with the drunk chick.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s too dark for him to see me. “Lee, for real? That’s ridiculous for so many reasons. First of all, she’s
drunk
. Passed out, non-responsively drunk.” I prefer participation from the girls I sleep with. “And second, she’s been friends with, and hung up on, my brother for years. There’s no way I’d touch that. Not even if she was sober.” That last part may not be completely, 100% true, but I’d at least think hard about it. I’m not into being second place or a substitution. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? To be a stand in for my younger brother. I shudder just thinking about it.
Great
. Now I have the image in my head of her calling his name during sex with me.
Fan-fucking-tastic
.

“Okay, okay. I get it. You gotta take care of her for your bro.” I don’t bother to correct Liam. It’s not
just
because of Max. I wouldn’t leave any girl at the mercy of college guys who are desperate to get laid. Not every guy has my standards … or my pussy average.

Hmm
. What would you call that? In Baseball it’s called an RBI—or Run Batted In … so would this be PBI? Or maybe FPA—Fucked Pussy Average.
Yeah
,
I like that
. Shaking my head, I walk around the car continuing to think of other acronyms. PIB—Pussy I’ve Banged is another good possibility.

I’ve almost forgotten Liam’s even there when he tells me goodbye. Distracted, I lift my hand in a wave as I fold myself into my car, glad I only had the one beer, so I’m okay to drive. Kat’s had enough alcohol for both of us. Pulling up to a stoplight, I look over at her in concern. I wonder what happened tonight, not including the run-in with me, that made her drink so much. It’s not like her. Kat’s normally the type of girl who doesn’t drink at a party because she’s kind of a goody-two-shoes and she’d be terrified the cops would show up and arrest her as soon as she took a sip.

She’s still passed out when we arrive at my apartment. I didn’t take her to her dorm because I still don’t know where Becca is and I can’t locate a cell phone on Kat to get her number. I make a mental note to yell at her about that tomorrow when she’s awake and consider calling Emmett to come out and help me get her inside. Just as I pull my phone out she begins to stir.

“Clay?” Her voice is scratchy and groggy. “Where are we?”

I get out of the car and go around to her side before answering. “My apartment. You’re drunk and you passed out. If I take you to your dorm, you might get in trouble. You can sleep it off here, and I’ll run you home in the morning. Or, I can have Max do it,” I say as an afterthought, though oddly enough, the idea pisses me off. If anyone’s taking her home, it will be me.

“Oh,” she sighs sleepily, barely conscious as I help her out of the car. Her feet barely move as we make our way slowly over to the stairs.

Giving up, I lift her back into my arms, and she drops her head onto my shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck. I set her down briefly to unlock the door before picking her up once again and carrying her into my apartment. I don’t know if she’ll get sick, and I don’t want anyone asking questions about why she’s here, so I take her into my room and lay her down on my bed.

Kat

Clay lays me down on his bed, his arms loosening around me when my back hits the soft fabric of his sheets. I panic, wrapping my arms back around his neck so I can pull him closer. I’m so out of it, and right now, having him close is the only thing that makes sense. He lets me pull him to me, so close our foreheads almost are touching, his eyes the only thing I can see. They’re full of concern as they search my face, checking to make sure I’m okay, and my heart skips a beat. This caring side of Clay is one no one, including me, gets to see very often. It makes it that much more disconcerting when he shows it.

His breaths against my mouth become shallow the longer we stay in this position. I watch his eyes darken as a myriad of thoughts go through my head. Between his bed and his body, I’m surrounded by his scent. This ending to the night was not the one I envisioned, but having him so close to me, spending so much time together, makes the lines drawn between us blur. I’m no longer sure if he’s the asshole guy who torments me every chance he gets, or the hot guy who protects me … even when protection is the last thing I want.

Before I can get my equilibrium, his mouth brushes mine, so light I almost think I imagined it. I gasp, my back arching and bringing our bodies closer together. The contact makes him gasp too, and our mouths touch once more. This time, his tongue darts out to trace along my bottom lip. My arms tighten further as he presses the top half of his body against mine.

Reality intrudes, and I wonder, should we be doing this? Is this what I want? Then, Clay’s tongue touches mine and every thought in my head evaporates. Unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his tongue exploring my mouth, tangling with my own before he retreats. I automatically follow him, tasting the inside of his for the first time. If someone had told me that the first Mitchell boy I would kiss would be Clay, I would have laughed in their face. But, here I am, Clay’s hands on the bed, on either side of my head, his arms taut as they hold him above me.