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It was some sappy love song, and I nearly gagged as I brushed my teeth and tried to block him out. Seriously.
As much as I adore Ray-Ray, she’s brought out the sap in Liam, and it’s kinda painful.
I’m never gonna be that guy.
I love women. I seriously do. Their bodies are awesome. I love laughing with them, turning them on, watching them orgasm, playing “hide the wiener.” I love sitting with them in class and eating lunch with them.
Girls are fantastic.
But I never want to be in love with one of them.
I’ve watched guys around me change as a woman takes over his life. They get all attached and goopy. That’s so not me. I will never fall hard. I’m just not wired that way.
Give me variety.
The special ones get a tat on my arm to remember them by, but I won’t be calling them the next day. Or even a week later. I’m not going to let myself get tied down to anyone.
I brush my thumb over my latest tat—a little red heart with a Q below it. It sits just above my thick watch strap, and I can’t help grinning at the memory of the ginger siren who it’s in honor of. Shit, she was fire. Some of the best sex I’ve ever had.
It was tempting to use the number she gave me, but I’m not that guy. So when I got home from the sorority party, I washed the inky numbers off the back of my hand and thought instead about the shape of her body and how good it felt to be buried inside her.
Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
Turning back to the fridge, I peruse the contents, wondering what I’m in the mood for. A monster sandwich could go over nicely… or those leftover nachos from Offside.
“Hey, anyone want the nachos? You’ve got point-five seconds to reply or I’m taking them… No answer? Sweet, they’re mine.”
Asher mutters something about me being an asshole just as the doorbell rings.
I glance over my shoulder, slapping the fridge shut as Asher walks through to answer the door.
“Hi there.”
Shit, it must be a woman. His voice always goes soft and husky when he’s talking to a hottie.
“Hey. I’m looking for Casey. Casey Pierce. He lives here, right?”
“Yeah.”
I stiffen, wondering who the hell Asher is letting in to see me. I don’t bring girls to Hockey House. Well, hardly ever. I’ve had the odd drunken whoopsie where we’ve ended up back here, but I’ve never let anyone stay the night, and no girls have ever bothered to knock on my door.
So why is?—
Oh shit, it’s the Queen of Hearts.
She walks in beside Asher, those red curls cascading around her shoulders and ending right on top of her luscious tits. The girl is stacked. It was one of the first things I noticed about her. Her funbags all snugged up in that tight blue dress she was wearing, smooshed together and just begging to be played with.
And play with them I did. Fuck, it was hot.
Images from that party run through my head, making it impossible to hide the fact that I recognize her. Those big blues eyes and plump lips. Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. No wonder I had so much fun banging her.
The second she spots me, she jerks to a stop.
I sense Mick moving off Ethan’s knee and trying to catch her eye. She’s grinning as if she recognizes this girl. Do they have classes together or something?
More flashes of the party where—fuck, what’s her name?—and I had mind-melting sex in one of the upstairs rooms hit me, and I can’t help a small grin.
Maybe I could make an exception and go for round two with this one.
