I can only imagine what’s perfect in the Hockey Player Hookup Handbook. Three orgasms, like a hat trick? And then there’s him, those moody eyes, that big stick he no doubt has…

Without even being cognizant of my reaction, my hands massage his neck, tangling with the thick hair there. A long exhalation comes from his mouth and my heart pounds as I imagine going somewhere with him. Alone. I picture us without all these people. I know he’s right there with me because the air grows heavier and thicker, like a fog. I gaze up, trying to read more of him, to maybe see who he really is, but he’s a stone wall, a piece of hard granite with hot, smoldering eyes.

Someone in the crowd calls out his name and I flinch.

Clarity settles in slowly as I think over my reasons for being at this party.

I—I can’t do this with him.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

What’s wrong?

Part of me does want to hook up, but the other side is mortified at the idea of random sex. Serious relationships are all I’ve ever had, more specifically just one.

“You’re scared,” he says softly.

“Sex isn’t why I came here tonight…” I stop, not sure how to explain.

His broad shoulders shift, shrugging, and his face gets that shuttered look on it again. “I get it. You don’t want to be the girl.”

My mouth opens. “So it is true? You pick out a girl at parties?”

His eyes rake over me. “Next time, don’t try so hard to get my attention, sweetheart.”

Next time? Don’t try so hard?

My heart sputters like a car running out of gas as mortification flares. I frown. “Don’t call me sweetheart, and for your information, I’m not some girl who’s out to bag the sexy and infuriating Zack Morgan. What I need is way more important than some furtive coupling in a frat house with a testosterone-addled hockey player.”

“Sexy and infuriating? Testosterone-addled?” He bites his lip to keep from laughing. “You really know how to flirt.”

“I didn’t mean to flirt. I just came to ask you to…” I stop, frustrated as I remove my hands from those broad shoulders and rub one over my face. “I never should have come to this party. It was pointless.”

“Why?” His brows knit together as he studies me.

A long silence stretches between us as I flounder around, my gaze bouncing throughout the basement as if the words might magically appear. Why can’t I think of the right verbiage to explain that my original intention was to ask him for help?

I shake my head, emotion clawing at me as everything from the past month comes crashing down at me. Catching Bennett cheating, losing out on the one law school I wanted, and now this…this guy thinking I’m just out to use him.

You were, a voice reminds me.

But not in a sexual way, I insist, yet uneasiness tugs at me.

And for what purpose? I’ll never get into Vandy with this plan.

God, what am I doing?

I sway on my feet.

6

Sugar

“Are you okay?” Zack says, lifting a hand as if to touch my arm but then letting it fall.

My skin feels hot. “I need off this dance floor.” I’ve barely eaten a thing today except junk food and now this loud, gyrating party is about to send me over the edge. Toss in a hockey player with enough virility to get me pregnant just by looking at him, and I’m toast.

“Come with me.”

“Where?” I look up as he takes my hand.

He gives me a concerned glance then leads me off the dance floor and up the stairs of the frat house. “You need air. I know where we can get it.”

And he seems like he does, his fingers laced with mine as he pulls me through a throng of people. Girls glare at me as we pass by, shooting daggers, and several call out his name, but he keeps going. There’s a get out of my way pace to the way he moves, his shoulders edging around people as they step aside to give him a wide berth. We pass the second floor, which is just as crowded, and I get glimpses of rows of doors and assume those are the bedrooms where lots of shenanigans happen. Frat Boy lives here, probably. Julia might be inside one of those rooms too. I feel a pang of envy at the way she’s able to just let go and do what she wants.

We head up the steps to the third floor. As soon as we hit the landing, I hear the welcome sound of muted music. He stalks through a common area with a sectional and a TV. Our hands intertwined, I follow him as he steps out onto a huge screened-in porch along the back of the house. No one is out here, and it’s bliss. Quiet and lit with moonlight, it’s warmed with gas heaters in each corner.

“Better?” he asks softly.

I let out a huge sigh of relief. “It’s paradise. Thank you. I…got too hot down there.”

Indeed.

He shows me to the railing at the edge, and even though it has a screen, the cold air rushes in. I inhale a deep breath, looking out over the lights of campus just a few blocks away. He stands next to me, a few inches to the side, eyes on me and not the view.

A sigh comes from his chest. “Look, I came on too strong down there. I can be a bit abrupt, it’s just I get tired of girls…” His lips twist as his words taper off.

“Throwing themselves at you?” I arch a brow. “I watched a girl crawl on the floor to get to you tonight. I get it.”

He shrugs broad shoulders, the movement graceful yet filled with power. “I don’t encourage it.”

“Just a normal day for you, huh?”

“Yeah.” He blushes. Actually blushes.

I stare down at our joined hands and remorse hits. I shouldn’t have stalked him. The entire idea was stupid. “You know…I’m sorry. I did go to the Tipsy Moose to see if I could talk to you, and yes, I was behind that column waiting for you. I even tried to approach you in class a few times, but I always chickened out. It wasn’t for bragging rights.” There. It’s all out. Relief flows. “I’m just…shy…and I couldn’t figure out how to be a regular person, so I thought I might tag along to where you go and see if we had anything in common.” I grimace. “We don’t. I can’t even hang at these parties. All I want to do is go home and crawl in bed. Maybe eat some snacks, maybe read some poetry.”

There’s silence, and I feel the weight of his eyes on me even though I’m staring at the lights below us.

“Sugar?”

I turn and meet his gaze, and my breath hitches at the heat I see reflected back at me.

“You’re not a jersey chaser. I get it. You just…took me by surprise. You’re very beautiful.” That last part is uttered with a deep sincerity, and I…I can’t stop looking at him.

I don’t think I’m beautiful; my nose is a hair too long and my ears stick out more than I wish they did, but the way he says the words makes me believe them. I lick my lips and he watches the motion.

“Your mouth is…perfect.” He steps in closer and rubs a knuckle across my lips, back and forth, until my lips separate slightly of their own accord, and before I can stop myself, I’ve kissed his fingers. It’s completely impulsive, yet right.

His breathing deepens as he continues that motion, tantalizing me slowly as if there’s nothing he’d rather do than touch my skin. “There’s something going on between us that’s…I don’t know…interesting. I knew it the moment I saw you.” He pauses. “I want you.”

I want you.

His words send a jolt of exquisite pleasure through my body.

He moves, shifting closer, the spicy scent of his cologne and fine leather lulling me.

I feel dazed. My stomach flutters. And my heartbeat—it’s so loud I wonder if he can hear it.

The moon is out and the light shows me the sharp granite angles of his face, the way his eyes burn. There’s heat there, ready to combust, just waiting to be lit with a match.

I inhale cool air, feeling lightheaded.

“Maybe it was meant to be, you following me around.” His fingers shift down to trace my jawline, outlining the curves from my cheekbone to my chin. He touches my bottom lip and then tilts my head up. “I want to kiss you.”

“We…probably…shouldn’t.” Is that my voice? All breathy?

“Is that a no?”

“Not no,” I say, my voice strangled.

“Good.” He touches my hair, twirling it around his finger as his face leans down to me, and shit, his lips are close to mine, so close. My face is tingling where he touched it and my body is aching—

He kisses me, and it’s as if I’ve been waiting all night for this, since the moment his eyes found mine. Full and sensuous, his lips fit perfectly, the pressure of his mouth soft yet insistent, almost coaxing. I flick my tongue at his, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, delving deeper as he takes more of me, exploring. My breasts press against his chest as his teeth nip at my lips gently, then harder, and I give it back to him, my hands coming up to rest on his leather jacket, caressing the softness there before curling around his neck.

Sensations bombard me—his scent, the rough brush of his scruff against my face, the feel of his hard muscles rippling under my touch.

His fingers dig into my waist, each one like a brand on my body. There’s an edge to his touch, a hint of rough—and my body throbs.