Page 35 of Palm South University: Season 3

Clinton smirks again, reaching for his seventh and our last beer in the pack. “Well, girls aren’t exactly jumping up and down to have nine inches shoved in their ass.”

I choke on a laugh, spitting Bud Light out like a fountain in the process. “Oh, my God.”

“You asked!”

We both laugh, and Clinton flicks the aluminum top with a pop and a fizz. “Okay, new game. Truth or Dare?”

I blow out a long breath, resting my back against the brick wall behind me, the only separator from us and a twenty-seven floor dive down to the earth. “Truth.”

“Pussy.”

“And a mighty pretty one, if I do say so myself.”

Clinton laughs. “Okay, fine. Who are your conquests this semester?”

“Honestly?” I ask, taking another long pull from my can. “I don’t have any. I mean, if I meet someone out one night and we’re having fun, I’m not saying I wouldn’t go home with him, but right now I’m just focusing on figuring my own shit out. You’re the only guy in my life, Bear.” I wink, nudging his knee with mine.

He chuckles, leaning forward to cross his arms over his legs. “Same here. Lacy shows up every now and then, but after Shawna…”

“I know.”

I don’t even make him finish his sentence, because I know more than maybe anyone how much that girl hurt him. He still loves her, still wants her, but after Family Weekend last semester, there’s no going back.

“Why can’t we just be sexually attracted to each other?” Clinton jokes. “We’d be set.”

“I mean, I’m notnotsexually attracted to you,” I counter, words slurring a bit.

Clinton jerks his head up to look at me, eyes wide before they narrow again. “Are you fucking with me?”

My head is fuzzy, thoughts stumbling over one another as I mull it over. Clinton is hot and always has been. The first time I met him, I remember thinking I would absolutely be taking him home at the end of the night. But from the very beginning, we just fell so easily into our friendship, and became a sort of family.

Still, with his insanely stacked body and sexy-as-hell smile, it’s impossible to not feel some sort of attraction to him. Even for me.

I swallow, finishing the last of my beer before crushing the can down and tossing it back into the empty case. “Truth or dare, Bear?”

He watches me, my pulse ticking up a bit as I wait for his answer. Clinton and I have never crossed the line between our friendship, and maybe it’s just the beer, or maybe it’s the way his dri-fit, black t-shirt hugs his massive arms, or the way he drags his teeth across his bottom lip, his eyes on mine, but the line feels blurry tonight.

“Dare,” he finally answers.

My stomach drops, brain screaming at me that I’m completely insane, but I say it anyway.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

The words barely leave my mouth before Clinton’s hand is around my wrist, tugging me forward, my knees hitting the concrete on either side of his thighs as I straddle him. My breaths are erratic, tipsy mind trying to catch up, but it doesn’t have time before his hands are in my hair, and then his mouth is on mine.

His lips are so soft, so big, so warm. They’re lips I never thought I’d taste, lips that feel foreign as they trail down my jaw to my neck before he sucks the lobe of my ear between his teeth.

I roll my hips against him with a moan, gasping when his hands slide up my ribs under my shirt. His hands are so big they nearly encompass my entire rib cage, his thumbs touching as they graze their way up my stomach, the rest of his fingers wrapped around me. He could completely crush me if he wanted to, and in a way, I want him to.

With all nine inches.

I can’t think straight, thoughts trying to fight their way through as I cross my arms and grab the ends of my shirt, flinging it to the side when it’s over my head before kissing Clinton again.

I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is happening. Holy shit, this is happening.

Clinton flips us, ripping his own shirt off before falling down on top of me again. He traces the edge of my bra with his tongue, biting and sucking the skin of each swell before working his way back up to kiss me. Our breaths are fast and heavy, hands touching, bodies rolling, and when I feel like I’m at the edge of hysteria, he bites my neck hard.

And it’s like that bite is tied to reality.