Page 3 of Bedeviled By The Jock (Halloween Temptation #3)

A fallen angel.

That’s what I managed to throw together for a costume. Black jeans, a black tank top, a broken halo, and a pair of wings I still had from a play last year. They strap around my arms with elastic bands, and the fake feathers are a little worse for wear, but they still look decent.

It seems fitting: a corrupted angel, no longer able to spread its wings and fly. Conflicted, questioning everything.

Because, well, that’s exactly how I feel.

I can admit that I look good, though. The tank top’s tight enough to show off the muscles in my chest and arms, and the jeans hug my ass nicely. My hair’s slicked back with gel, and I’ve smudged charcoal under my eyes to make them pop.

Now I’m walking down the street with my wings jutting out behind me. I follow the GPS on my phone as it leads me away from campus and into a neighborhood I rarely visit.

My pulse quickens as the mansion comes into view, looming over the street. It has a gothic look, with stained glass windows, pointed arches, and spires reaching into the night sky. No wonder people say it’s haunted.

Even from here, I can hear the bass pounding, the thump-thump-thump in sync with my heartbeat.

The closer I get, the tighter the knot in my stomach pulls.

A part of me is screaming to turn around and go home.

I could have been in the safety and comfort of my dorm room, eating pizza and watching scary movies right now.

Yet, here I am, walking toward a giant mansion full of people, subjecting myself to the torture that is social interaction.

All because a football player smiled at me.

But the other part of me, the one that took control, is determined to see this through.

I can handle a party, I tell myself. Just one night, a couple of hours. Then I can go back to my hermit cave and pretend none of this ever happened.

Best-case scenario? It was all a fluke, and when I see Josh again, I won’t feel anything. No spark. No tingle. Nothing. Just a casual hello and a handshake. A normal, platonic moment between two dudes, and then I can go on living my life, happily ignoring jocks for the rest of my college years.

Maybe I’ll even end the night with Caroline. Or some other girl. At this point, I’m not that picky. I just want to get laid and prove to myself that what happened earlier was a one-time thing, nothing worth obsessing over.

If it happens again? Then I guess I’m a little less straight than I thought. And that, well, is something to figure out. Later. After the party.

Either way, I need answers, and I won’t find them by hiding out and brooding in my room.

I suck in a breath and head up the cobblestone path toward the mansion.

The front yard is crowded with tombstones, pumpkins, and skeletons. Cobwebs hang from the trees, and a fog machine blasts a low-hanging mist onto the ground. Whoever decorated this place clearly went all out, and the spooky vibe gives me a thrill of excitement.

I’ve got to admit, walking through a Halloween graveyard dressed as a fallen angel, with a haunted mansion ahead and the moon casting eerie shadows, feels pretty epic.

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

That thought flies out the window the second I step inside and remember why I hate parties.

A wall of heat and noise slams into me, followed by the stink of sweat and cheap deodorant.

The entry hall and staircase are crammed with people, all shouting over each other and clutching red plastic cups.

The music is blasting so loudly that the bass thrums in my bones.

“No fucking way!” someone screams from down the hall, and a second later, Ana’s throwing her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you actually came! This is already the best Halloween ever!”

She pulls back, grinning from ear to ear, then takes a moment to admire my costume.

“You look hot as fuck, Sebas. Fallen angel, huh? Ready to sin?”

“That’s the plan,” I say with a smirk.

“Oh my God, who is this new version of you? I swear, if you weren’t, like, my best friend, I’d totally jump you right now.”

I laugh, knowing she doesn’t mean it. “Thanks, Ana. You look amazing, too.”

She twirls around, showing off her skintight witch costume. Her wavy copper hair is tied back in a ponytail, and her lips are painted a deep, sultry red. Her boobs are practically spilling out of the dress, and the heels she’s wearing put her almost at my height.

When she stops twirling, she winks at me and says, “This witch is looking for a nice, thick broomstick to ride tonight.”

“Jesus, Ana. Put a warning label on it, would you?”

“Hey, it’s Halloween, baby. I’m allowed to be slutty.”

“Got someone in mind already?”

Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “I was hoping... Josh? Or do you think he’s out of my league?”

“What?” I blurt out, an icy shiver crawling up my spine. “Josh? As in pumpkin-Josh?”

“Yeah, I told you. He is so hot. Have you seen those arms?”

Amidst all my confusing, conflicted thoughts, I kind of forgot that the whole reason we approached him in the first place was because Ana has the hots for him.

My gut twists, and my chest squeezes tight, but I force myself to smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you think he’s a douchebag,” she says before I can get a word in. “But trust me, he’s not. And come on, if anyone’s got a thick broomstick, it’s him. Right?”

I try not to think about the exact girth of Josh’s dick, but fail miserably.

Of course I noticed how tight his jeans were, how much seemed to be going on down there.

But there’s no way I’m ready to tell her about the dirty thoughts I had.

I’m still trying to make sense of them myself.

I came here mostly to prove it was a fluke, that he doesn’t affect me at all.

But this makes things a whole lot messier.

Now what? Do I try to convince her not to pursue him? No, that would look too suspicious. Plus, she wouldn’t listen anyway. When Ana gets an idea in her head, it takes a bulldozer to stop her.

So, I swallow my discomfort and say, “Of course he’s not out of your league, Ana. You’re a total catch. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

It’s the truth, even if I wish she’d find someone else. Anyone else.

Ana’s face lights up. “You’re the sweetest, Sebas. Thanks. How cool would it be if we both hooked up tonight? You with Caroline, me with Josh. Wouldn’t that be a night to remember?”

“That... would definitely be something.”

“I bet Josh is a total beast in bed. If he fucks the way he plays football, I’m in for a goddamn workout.

Just imagine it. A big, sweaty quarterback on top of you, pounding away.

The stamina he must have. Those arms holding you down while he plows into you like—wait, are you okay? You look pale all of a sudden.”

I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the lump blocking it. “Fine, fine. I’m just, uh... a little thirsty. Do you know where the kitchen is?”

“Of course. Come, I’ll show you.”

She links her arm through mine and leads me down the hall, past the living room, where huge speakers blast pop music and people are dancing and making out.

We pass all kinds of costumes, and even though I know it’s just people dressed up, in the state I’m in, they feel creepier than they should. Masks and painted faces seem to follow me, their stares whispering, We know your secret, Sebastian. We know what you jerked off to earlier.

Werewolves, vampires, zombies, skeletons, and the scariest of all… a clown.

Who the hell would dress up as a fucking clown? Seriously.

As we squeeze past the last group of people, we slip into the kitchen, where the noise is a little easier to handle. Red plastic cups are scattered across the counters, and in the middle of a big table sits a massive punch bowl brimming with bright orange liquid.

But I don’t have eyes for any of that.

Because leaning against the opposite countertop, next to the microwave, is a devil so sinfully hot the sight knocks the air from my lungs.

He’s shirtless, his broad chest streaked with fake blood, the same red as the devil horns poking through his dark, tousled hair. When he looks up, a pair of familiar brown eyes lock onto mine, and my heart kicks into overdrive.

Josh in all his bare-chested glory.

The knot in my stomach returns with a vengeance, twisting and turning, and my cock stirs in my jeans, swelling fast.

Fuck, it definitely wasn’t a fluke.

One glance at him and my body reacts in the most traitorous way.

I’m in trouble.

Big fucking trouble.