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Of course, he notices the effect he has on me. Because hot guys like him never skip a beat. He looks like a player, the kind of guy who goes through women faster than he changes his socks. He carries himself like he owns the world. By the looks of him, he’s probably rich. Even in sporty clothes, he appears polished and refined. He stinks of entitlement and privilege. Most of the students at this school are loaded. You have to be in order to afford the tuition.
Now aware of my body and how it reacts to him, I need an escape.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” His voice is so smooth and sexy it sends a shiver down my arms. He leans over to help me to my feet, his hand outstretched for me to take. “I’m Tucker, by the way.”
Apprehensive, I place my hand in his big one. His fingers close around mine, dwarfing it, making my hand seem tiny in comparison. Sitting down he looked big and muscular. But now that we’re standing, he towers over me. He’s well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and toned to perfection. In a pair of mesh shorts that hang low from his narrow waist and a fitted tee that shows off his thick biceps, Tucker is a walking wet dream. Every bit of his well-defined body makes me salivate.
“And you are?” He stares at me when I don’t respond to his introduction, giving me a curious look. “The least you can do is tell me your name now that we’re so intimately acquainted.” And there goes that smirk again, full of confidence and attitude.
My eyes and mouth open in horror. Intimately acquainted? Oh, my God, he’s so forward I don’t even know how to respond.
Tucker releases his grip on my hand. “Have we met before? You don’t look familiar. And I know pretty much everyone on campus.”
So, he’s an ass. But a hot one. With a very tight ass that I can’t stop admiring as he turns for a brief second to wave off his friend calling out his name behind him.
My God, that ass.
He looks like he plays a sport and has the body of an athlete. My ex played football in high school, but he never looked like Tucker. Even his legs are solid muscle, sculpted to absolute perfection.
I’m staring way too hard, to the point Tucker notices and just smiles. More like smirks. Because isn’t that what guys who look like him do? They’re all wicked smirks and killer looks. And girls like me don’t fit into their equation. So, it’s time for me to get real and stop drooling over him.
“No, I’m new. Just transferred.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, this time less nervous than before. “I’m Jemma.”
Tucker smiles so wide it reaches his eyes that are so clear and blue they remind me of the sky back home. His fingers brush against mine, creating a shock of electricity which skates along my skin. He ignites something inside me I can’t deny. My nipples are so hard it’s almost painful. The thin fabric of my bikini top makes it even more noticeable. Oops.
I bet every girl with a pulse has this reaction to him. Even my stupid body is a traitor, and I’m not the type to lose my shit over a guy I just met. At least not until I get to know them. But I definitely want to know Tucker.
“You have the same name as the mom from Sons of Anarchy,” he says, which I’ve heard dozens of times.
“Yeah, except my name has a J instead of a G.”
“Jemma with a J,” he says. “I won’t forget it. We should, you know, hang out… or something.” Tucker is so calm and unaffected, while I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
Or something? Oh, whatever could he mean?
I try not to laugh in his face.
“I’m going to the beach party on Saturday night,” he continues. “You should come. It’s invite only.”
I blush ten shades of pink from my cheeks to my neck, distracted by his handsome face. He wants to see me again. Holy shit! I can’t even breathe around Tucker. How will I make it through one night with him?
I speak without thinking and blurt out, “How about a rain check? I’m not sure what I’m doing this weekend. I have to do stuff with my sorority…” And now I’m talking too much so I trail off, oversharing things he doesn’t need to know. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to tell him I’m pledging Kappa. There are so many rules, I have no idea. He has me on edge, so freaked out I want to run. Or maybe scream. I can’t decide what I want to do because my brain stopped working the second I looked into his eyes. The minute our skin made contact.
