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I signed. “You’re never gonna fucking learn, are you?” I shook my head. “If you had any intention of getting laid tonight, you know Bennett’s gonna screw it first just for shits and giggles.”
“Well, a good orgasm and moans at least. Wasn’t there some uppity bitch you were pining over?” Beau’s dark gaze grew a little feral as he zeroed in on Barclay, pushing away from the wall and stepping forward. “Or three.”
We managed to drag the table across the room and a few of the ice hockey boys helped move it into a room we could lock.
“Jesus. Exercise is for the old. Or something like that.” Barclay gasped, clutching his chest, though I wasn't sure how much was theatrics, and how much was actual pain. “Why are we moving this again?”
“Because last time one of the star cheerleaders had a threesome on it. About where your head is right now.” Napoleon ‘Crush’ Lancaster, captain of the ice hockey team, leaned over to flick Barclay’s forehead.
“Shit.” The marquess moved faster than I gave him credit for.
“Damn, man.” I patted his back. “Who knew you had it in you?”
“Fuck off.” But there was no vehemence in his words. “Got a beer?” This last was directed at Beau, who raided the nearest fridge and tossed bottles to each of us.
“Thanks, man.” I nodded gratefully, intent not to get wasted as I wanted to remember every second of tonight, planning to torture both Chloe and myself with light touches, dark words to leave her on edge, and maybe steal a hard kiss from her by the end of the night.
My cock objected to that idea, but there was no way I wanted to scare off the girl who slid through my bloodstream like she always belonged there.
“You are moping.” Beau settled next to me, cracking his own beer and perching his ass on the French polished table we just moved.
I might have objected, but fuck it. Moving the thing and dealing with frat house politics wore me down too fast.
“And?” I sipped my beer, knowing I couldn’t get away from the fucker until he’d had his say.
“What’s her name?” Beau asked casually.
“Who said she has a name?’ I grinned at him gamely.
He’d find out later tonight when I was all the fuck over her–if she even turned up. I had doubts she wouldn’t change her mind last minute–but for now I wanted to keep my newest obsession to myself.
“Chloe Duke.” Barclay shot me a shit eating grin and disappeared with half the hockey team in tow.
Fucker.
“Enjoy our team orgy, sweetheart,” I called after him, flipping the bird at his back.
Beau let out an appreciative chuckle. “Good to see you got balls.”
“Because I can shoot shit when the occasion calls for it?”
“Because you didn't back down from me.”
Ah.
“You’re not the most comfortable person,” I said honestly. Hell, in for a penny or a pound, as long as I got my girl.
Fuck me, I was moping. I groaned, rubbing a hand through my hair.
“Just figured out I'm right, did you?” he sounded amused.
I sneaked a glance sideways. “Maybe?” I considered. Beau was in his third year with one more to go, studying medicine. He knew more about the campus secrets than anyone else, and ruled the Kingsman like they were his royal subjects in his own kingdom. “You know much about her?”
“I know she’s focused, never loses, and doesn’t play with anyone off the court.” He canted his head to one side. “If you get her through those doors, I’ll find you a better dorm buddy than Barclay.”
“No deal. Barclay might be a wanker–” I was picking up his British insults “–but he doens’t snore or fuck when I’m around. He’s not so bad.”
“Damn, right when you impressed me.” Beau sent me a crooked grin. “I know she’s a sucker for dark chocolate, and she and her sister aren’t on great terms. Anything more detailed, ask your roommate. He knows the ins and outs of their family politics.”
