“Maybe.”
His smile was a hard line. “I’ll be taking you. And Declan will be joining us.”
He had her full attention. “He will? I thought no teachers or faculty were allowed?”
“Costumes are for more than just role playing.”
She studied Trick with narrowed eyes. “Is this true? Are you playing with me again?”
“Doubting woman.”
“Frustrated woman. Tricky man.”
“That’s right, baby. You’ll thank me for it later. Right now you’re going to listen to everything I say and do exactly what I tell you. Tomorrow we start the final phase of Operation Three-way. That is, if you’re ready.”
“That’s a horrible name.” But she couldn’t stop smiling now. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“You wear that costume and be yourself, Jen. You don’t have to do anything else.” He climbed onto her body and kissed her until both of them were panting and clinging to each other, desperate for more. “I have to go.”
“No.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Now.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Kinky control freak,” she muttered against his lips, biting him.
“Trust me.”
She walked him to the door, laughing as he tried to resist walking through it instead of sneaking out as usual, before kissing him goodbye. As she locked up and headed to her bedroom, a part of her thought her mother was right. She should probably stay home and avoid what could possibly be one of the crazier parties she’d ever gone to.
She should, but she wasn’t going to. She’d be damned if she was going to miss that rave now that she knew Trick and the professor would both be there. With her. Who could say? Maybe she’d finally get lucky.
She was a Finn. Her family’s famous luck was bound to come through for her eventually.
Chapter Two
Declan knew he shouldn’t be here. Not only was he breaking his own rules, he was ignoring a student council request that professors and main faculty make themselves scarce. In exchange for that agreement, the campus police had a definite presence to maintain order and keep everyone safe, but so far there didn’t seem to be much need. This was more like a peaceful festival than a rave.
Though he felt like a convicted man on his way to the guillotine.
Don’t think about why you’re really here. Don’t imagine lace panties and Trick’s laughter. Think of this as research. Observe the environment.
Declan was screwed if that was the best pep talk his racing mind had to offer, but he gave it a shot. After a few minutes and a lot of focus, it actually started to work. He wandered through the crowded tents and decorated campus housing, watching groups of friends holding cameras over their heads and laughing over creative costumes as they moved through the different fraternity themes. He found himself impressed that they were able to throw something like this together in less than a month. From what Declan could see it was an organizational success. House rivalries had been put aside and the student council was given the task of running the event and people were just having fun.
When he peered into the inflatable castle outside of the next tent he shook his head and walked away without a backward glance. Maybe they were having a little too much fun. But then again, that was part of what college was about. What the students around him were doing now, what this was, was exactly what he’d thought it would be. A Bacchanalia. A Dionysian celebration of excessive intoxication, sexual expression and freedom from parental authority. A rite of passage into adulthood where, if you didn’t make mistakes—sexual or otherwise—you were doing it wrong.
Declan might not have stripped down to jump in a damn bouncy castle with cell phones aimed at his balls, but he’d definitely made his share of mistakes. Been wild. Did things he should regret.
Trick showed you how wild you could be.
Trick had also sent something to his cell phone last night that made it impossible for him to think straight. Or sleep without relieving the tension. Three times and twice more during his morning shower.
He should have stayed home. As he was driving to campus, he’d almost turned around more than once, but the image of lace covering smooth, tender flesh kept pushing him forward.
Trick was no longer playing fair. Declan had made it through the eight-week dare and he was still firm in his resolve. Trick hadn’t won. He didn’t notice Jen at all in class. The way she wiggled in her seat. The way she played with her buttons. He didn’t notice that she’d started wearing short, pleated skirts and stockings that stopped above her knee instead of jeans. And when she crossed her legs, he didn’t notice her silky bare thighs.
Liar.
He might as well say he didn’t reread her papers, studying them for insight and clues into her personality. For reasons why Trick would believe she’d join them. If he did, that would be pathetic. That would mean he’d let her get to him. Let Trick get to him with all his texts.