“I love the way the heroine eventually defies expectations,” Anthony is saying, eyes boring into mine. “The way she just decides not to care about what others think anymore, and fight for who she wants.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
But then, luckily, Vin returns, and we shift topics to bio class, an easier subject. Anthony keeps watching me, though, his eyes too piercing, too knowing. I feel like he understands me after sharing that book, and it scares me how much I enjoy that feeling.
We talk about the game eventually, too.
“You guys were incredible,” I gush. “Just the way you move together, like you already know what each other are thinking, where you’re going to be at any given second…”
“We do,” they reply in unison, and we all laugh at that.
“But really,” Vin adds, “It’s all just a matter of keeping your eye on the goal. Taking advantage of opportunities as they arise…” His legs shift under the table to trap one of my legs between them. His calves are bare, and warm against my skin.
“And never losing sight of what you really want,” Anthony adds, his finger trailing up my arm, tracing the outline of my bicep.
I shiver. “You know, it’s really not fair when you two team up on me.” I glance back and forth between them.
“Who said we play fair?” Vin asks with a little wriggle of his eyebrows.
I narrow my eyes and nudge his leg playfully. “Pretty sure that’s bad advice. Not playing fair when you’re trying to get a girl to like you.”
“Says who?” Anthony continues to trace my arm lightly, his fingertip setting my nerves on fire. My stomach tightens with desire, and I clench my thighs together tightly, trying to ignore the pulse of lust between my legs. “All’s fair in love and war.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this love or war, then?”
Vin tightens his legs around mine, trapping me between. “What do you think?” he asks, smirking.
“Bit of both?” I reply without thinking.
Both guys laugh, and Anthony wraps a warm, muscular arm around my shoulders. “We would never war with you,” he murmurs, and he’s so close to me, I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. My pulse skips a beat and my pussy clenches. It feels like there’s a heavy weight between my legs, my clit throbbing with every pound of my heart. His lips brush my cheek, not quite a kiss, but enough contact to set me off, breathing faster.
“It feels like I’m being tag-teamed, though,” I reply, maintaining just enough of my brainpower to speak. “You’re playing against me the way you played against that opposing team’s goalie.”
Vin leans forward, reaching across the table to wrap his hand around mine. His heat feels different from Anthony’s, more subtle. But his hands are just as strong, curled around mine, our fingers intertwining. “Is it working?” he asks, that little smirk still at the corner of his lips.
My blush is probably all the answer he needs. But I jut my chin higher and stare down at him, trying to regain some high ground, a leg to stand on. “What do you think?” I ask, one eyebrow lifted.
Anthony grins. “I think we should get out of here.”
I laugh, but I don’t disagree. Before I can even make an argument about splitting the check, Vin flags down the waitress and pays. I don’t even have time to reach for my wallet.
“Also not fair,” I complain as we step out of the restaurant into the cool fall evening air.
“What, we can’t treat our beautiful new roommate to dinner?” Anthony’s smile is all innocence, though his eyes betray him—they’re on fire when they meet mine, and he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s checking me out, his eyes doing a slow crawl over my body. I shiver.
Vin sees, and wraps an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his side. “Chilly?”
“A little,” I admit since I didn’t bring a real jacket, just a sweater for the game earlier.
Over my head, Vin shoots Anthony a look. Next thing I know, Anthony is pressed against my other side, sandwiching me between them, as he wraps his arm around me too. Between both guys’ warmth, I don’t feel the night air at all anymore. In fact, if anything, I’m too hot now, in danger of boiling over.
But my
brain isn’t directing the show anymore. I couldn’t pull myself away from the guys now if I wanted to—and I definitely don’t. Standing between them, I wrap my arms around their waists. My hands find the edge of Anthony’s hip, and the middle of Vin’s waist.
“Is that better?” Anthony asks. When I glance up, he’s looking at me with concern, his hand rubbing along my arm gently, tracing the outline of the goose bumps rising along my skin.
Little does he know, those aren’t from the cold. “Much better,” I say, unable to tear my gaze from his deep blue eyes.