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“Good thing you’re cooking for me,” he says, reaching for me the moment I’ve shut and locked the door. A towel sits low on his hips, “Or I would’ve gone down there and dragged you away.”

“You like my kolaches?” I ask, feeling his hands ruck up his jersey, feeling for what’s underneath.

“I like everything about you.” He peeks at my bathing suit, then quickly shucks the shirt over my head. “Jesus Christ, darlin’.”

Will had gotten it all wrong. My bikini isn’t white or red. It’s custom made, black, with the Wittmore badger logo on each of the triangles covering my breasts. Number 01 is stitched on my hip.

“I take that back,” he says, face already between my breasts. “Iloveeverything about you.” He runs the back of his knuckles over my nipples, drawing them into peaks. “You know how I feel when you’re wearing my name and number.”

The hard line of his erection pressing against the cotton towel confirms how much he likes it, and I yank it away wanting to see him as much as he wants to see me. His cock bobs thick and ready, an arrow directed at me. I touch him, fingers grazing over the velvety tip. “Fuck,” he mutters, guiding me into the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.”

The spray is hot, but I like it that way. His hands are greedy, and I like that, too. He takes his time, tugging at the strings of the bikini one by one, revealing my body like he’s unwrapping a present. The pieces of cloth drop to the tile and he grabs the bottle of gel, soaping up both of his hands, then running his palms over my tits. His cock rubs between us, hard and insistent.

“Ax,” I say, body liquid fire from his touch, “I need you inside me.”

“Want to get out?” he breathes, water dripping from his hair. “Get a condom?”

I shake my head. “Nothing between us. I’m on birth control.”

His jaw tenses, a new hunger sparked in his eyes. He spins me around, pressing my palms against the tile walls. His hand covers mine, the black letters YOLO, staring back at me. My spine shivers when his other hand grabs my hip and pulls my backside against him. His cock is thick, slippery from the soap, and his knee moves between mine, nudging my thighs apart. I feel him at my entrance. I’m too hot. Too horny, and I back into him. He meets my push with a thrust, stretching me out from this angle. The feel of him bare, is too good, and when he wraps an arm around my stomach and groans in my ear I know he feels it too.

“You just get better,” he tells me, voice low as he drags in and out of me at an excruciating pace. “Everything about you.” His teeth bare down on my shoulder. “Your body. Your laugh. Your fierceness.” His hand drops between my legs and he rubs lazy circles into my clit. “I didn’t have to step in today. I know that. You can take care of yourself, but, darlin’, all I want is to take care of you.” I can’t see his face, but I feel the veracity of his words. “I want to slay your dragons, and eat your food, and fuck you senseless.”

In one day he’ll have done all three, and my mind drifts from how good he feels. Howsafe. This wild man, at first sight dangerous, covered in ink and silver. But he’s not a hard man. Heloveshard and that’s what makes him different.

That’s what makes him mine.

I let him fuck me, let him draw me to the edge, our bodies frantic as we chase each other toward oblivion. And when we reach it, he wraps his arms around me, shielding me from thewater, surrounding me in his warmth. Holding me as we topple one after the other.

“I think I’m ready,” I say, the orgasm rocking into gentle waves. I touch the letters on his knuckles.

“Hmmm?” he says, chin on my shoulder. I can feel his heartbeat hammering against my back. “For what?”

“My first tattoo.”

“Yeah?” His voice perks up. “What’s it going to be?”

“The letters EFU.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just something I want to remember.” I turn and look at him. “That sometimes an epic fuck-up can be the best thing to happen in your life.”

EPILOGUE

The bad news is that the guys lose their first game of the season on December 30th.

The good news is that I get to spend New Years Eve with my freshly shaven, no-more mustached, boyfriend. And damn, he’s hot.

The frat house trembles with music, half the guests spilled into the yard. Everyone is happy to be back at school–excited to ring in the new year. I’m just obsessed with Axel’s mouth.

“T,” he says, breaking away from the kiss, “don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you to shove your tongue down my throat, but if that’s all we’re going to do maybe we should head back home and we can test how it feels everywhere else.”

“Tempting.” I sigh, trying not to think about Axel’s face between my legs. “But I told Twyler we’d meet them here.” I run my thumb over his smooth upper lip. “It just feels so weird.”

“Maybe I should have ditched the ‘stache months ago.”

“I told you women were repelled by that thing,” Reid says, giving me a questioning look. He’d tagged along with us when we left the manor in a black sweater and dark plaid pants.