“You forget, I’ve been away for a year—to the Olympics. I’m an adult woman. Experienced and worldly.”
I laugh. “Darlin’, if you were so worldly, you wouldn’t have to tell me. You would be showing me.”Wrong fucking thing to say. I want to take the words back as soon as I see the slow smile appear on her face and she leans into me. I try to back up, but there’s literally no space, nowhere to go in the crowd. Before she touches her lips to mine—which I know I’ll regret even if my cock is twitching with excitement and sending up skyrockets like I can’t ever remember feeling for a fully clothed woman I’ve never even kissed—I take her chin in my hand and stop her. My fucking hand is shaking as her eyes go wide.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Ignoring her eager nod and steeling myself, I throw an arm around her and push through the crowd toward the back door. People slap my back, congratulate me, try to stop me to have a drink, but I keep going, giving lip service. Most of them are acquaintances rather than friends, so I don’t care. I wish Levi—and my damn sister—were here. They’d keep me honest and help me keep the Wilde child in check. Help keep me in check.
We reach the back deck, but it’s crowded with people hanging around the keg.
“Wait. Let’s get a beer. I’m really thirsty,” she says. But she doesn’t wait for an answer, breaking free from my hold and winding her way through the small crowd around the keg. Of course the guys clear a path for her and I want to slap those lusty looks from their faces.
Following right behind her, I get caught up by one of my teammates, a freshman I barely know. But he knows me.
“Hey, Ryan. I bet you’re going to need half the seats in the Garden to accommodate your family and friends for Brawlers games.”
“I’m a rookie, Chaz. Don’t think they’ll be giving me many tickets. I’ll be lucky if they let me in the back door.” One of the guys pours Chelsea a drink and then another. He puts an arm around her and she turns to me.
“Have a beer,” she says, handing me one of the red cups foaming over at the top. The guy, whose name I don’t know, still has an arm around her and I give him a pointed stare. He leaves it there and I grit my teeth.
“Oh, this is Keith,” she says. “He’s a fan of women’s volleyball—do you believe it?”
“No, in fact, I don’t.”
Chaz and a few of the other guys laugh while Keith’s smile disappears. I’d have rather punched it off his face. Handing the red cup to Chaz, I reach for Chelsea.
“Let’s get out of here,” I repeat.
“Fine, but let me drink this first.” She doesn’t give me a chance to take the beer from her. In a quick smooth motion, she lifts the cup to her lips and tips it at a steep angle, pouring it down her throat. No more than three seconds later, she swipes her arm across her face and hands the cup to Keith. He’s slack-jawed, taking the cup in shock. I’m in shock too, but I hope I hide it better than him and the rest of the guys around who just witnessed one of the best displays of beer chugging I’ve ever seen. A whistle and applause follows.
“Damn, that was some performance.” Keith looks far too enchanted, so I give him a mean glare.
Lucky for him Chelsea ignores him, stepping out of his arms and into mine.
“Where are you taking me, hot shot? Or should I call you Romeo? Maggie told me all about your reputation.” The teasing glint in her eyes can’t be mistaken for anything else but flirtation.
Under my breath, I say, “And the Wilde child strikes again.” I wrap her up tight in one arm and pull her from the crowd of admirers, all asking her to stay and do it again, telling her how cool she is.
“Sorry guys,” I say. “We’re leaving now.” When my eyes meet Chaz’s and the disappointment is obvious, I add, “But I’ll be back later.”
Finally getting her to my car after we elbow through the crowd that had spilled into the backyard and driveway, I shove her into the passenger seat of my brand-new Audi and slam the door.
“Nice car,” she says when I get in.
“Gift to myself.”
She rubs the dashboard and looks around, then at me as I press the ignition.
“You’re pretty good to yourself. Guess you’ll be rich now, not the same kid next door like you used to be.”
“I haven’t been him in a while.”
“I suppose not. You’ve beenRyan O’Rourke, star jock, big man on campus.”
She says it like she’s trying to be funny, but it feels more like an insult.
“I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“Your place or mine?”
Another flirty comment and my nerves are feeling it. Everything in me is wired and on the edge between excitement and anger. My cock returns to life. I look at her as we pull away from the curb and I realize I don’t know where I’m taking her. What the hell is she trying to do?