Page 4

CHAPTER 3

RILEY

T his was a mistake.

The thought had been whispering in my head since the moment I stepped into the packed bar, but now, standing in the middle of a sea of bodies, shifting uncomfortably in a dress that I was sure looked terrible on me, it was screaming .

I tugged at the hem of the tight, black dress that I’d forced myself to wear, wishing I’d just stuck with jeans. I wasn’t a dress person. I wasn’t really a bar person. But I was trying, wasn’t I? Trying to be normal. Trying to be fun. Trying to be the kind of girl who could leave the library and dorm room without having a nervous breakdown.

I let out a slow breath, scanning the room for Tasha, the whole reason I was in this situation to begin with. I spotted her near the bar, already draped over a guy in a Tigers baseball cap, giggling at something he was whispering in her ear.

Great.

I wove through the crowd, my heels catching on the sticky floor as I made my way to her. “Hey,” I said, trying to get her attention over the pounding bass. She turned, her eyes glassy, and let out a high-pitched squeal. “Riley! You made it!”

“I did,” I said, forcing a smile.

“You look hot! Doesn’t she look hot?” She turned to the guy next to her, who barely spared my face a glance before his eyes dropped to my boobs.

I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “Thanks.”

Tasha waved a hand. “You need a drink. The drinks are free until ten—” She paused, looking around before frowning. “Oh. I guess not anymore…”

I followed her gaze to the sign over the bar that said Ladies Drink Free Until 10 PM …but there was a huge red X drawn through it. I sighed. I was really looking forward to those free drinks. That was what finally got me out of my room to come down here after hours of debating myself about it.

I guess that meant I was paying for my own drinks tonight.

Tasha shrugged like it was no big deal, already turning back to the guy, her interest in me fading fast.

I sighed. It didn’t seem likely she was going to be introducing me to other girls from her sorority. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of.

I didn’t belong here.

The crowd, the heat, the sweaty bodies pressed in too close, the way my heart was already pounding—not from excitement, but from anxiety—it was all too much.

One drink. I’d get one drink, and if the vibes did not improve, I’d leave.

One drink was social, right? And that meant progress. A lot of progress considering how I normally spent my Saturday nights since coming here. I needed to take advantage of the fact that my body was actually cooperating for once.

And being by myself at this bar was better than sitting on my bed while I pretended not to notice my roommate staring at me. Right?

Right.

Walking a little further down the bar so I wasn’t next to Tasha while she tried to eat that guy’s tongue, I waved my hand, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. He was busy pouring shots with zero urgency, but eventually, his eyes flicked to me.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh…” I hesitated, realizing I had no idea what to order. I wasn’t a big drinker. And I wasn’t about to stand here and scroll through Google for “cocktails that don’t taste like rubbing alcohol.”

“Screw it,” I muttered. “Just make me something. I don’t care what.”

The bartender gave me a look, but he didn’t argue. “Card on file?”

I grimaced, then nodded, sliding my credit card across the counter. I’d have just one. Anything beyond that would break the bank. Turns out, working two campus jobs for minimum wage still took a really, really long time to add up to decent money.

But it was better than the alternative.

A minute later, the bartender placed a dark blue drink in front of me with a lime wedge on the rim. It looked…innocent.

I took a sip and immediately regretted everything.

It tasted like cough syrup, chased with a punch to the throat. I forced myself to swallow, plastering on an expression that said, Yeah , this is totally fine . I’m not dying .

The bartender smirked before turning away.

Drink in hand, I wove my way back through the crowd, scanning for literally anyone I recognized. The crush of bodies felt like a trap, every brush of skin making my nerves itch. My stomach twisted. Nope. Not for me.

Five more minutes, and then I was getting the hell out of here.

JACE

The bar was packed.

The bass pounded through my chest, rattling my ribs like it was trying to restart my heart. Beer in hand, I scanned the room, surveying the drunken chaos, the crowd who had come out tonight to celebrate a Tiger’s win.

I wasn’t in the mood for this, which was weird. Because I had definitely been in the mood in the locker room.

I was always in the mood to celebrate a win, to have a good time, for a party, for girls in short dresses who wanted a piece of Tennessee’s star wide receiver. And they were here, throwing looks my way, biting their lips, giving me every green light possible.

I just wasn’t biting back.

My fingers drummed against the neck of my beer bottle as I took a sip, my gaze drifting to where Parker and Casey were tucked in a corner of the bar. She was laughing, pressed against his side, his arm curled around her waist like he’d rather die than let her go.

It was disgusting. It was pathetic. It was everythin g I wanted.

I hated myself a little for it.

I scoffed and turned away, rolling my shoulders like I could shake off the weight settling in my chest. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I had everything.

Football. Friends. The kind of life every guy fucking dreamed about.

But lately, when I actually let myself think for too long, I’d started to get this nagging, empty fucking feeling in my gut. And no matter how many girls threw themselves at me, no matter how many parties I went to, I couldn’t shake it.

I was a disappointment to myself was what I was at the moment.

I tipped my beer back, chugging the rest, setting the bottle down with a little too much force.

“You good, Jace-face?” Matty’s voice cut through my pity party, amusement laced in his tone as he leaned against the bar next to me.

“Yeah.” I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Just over…everything.”

Matty snorted, his eyebrow lifting in amusement because apparently it was funny to him that I was undergoing an existential crisis. Either that or an alien had inhabited my body. I wasn’t quite sure. The guy didn’t know funny when it hit him in the face, but evidently he’d decided I was funny tonight.

Another point in the rude column, thank you very little.

“You? Over a bar filled with girls who would die to ride your face?”

I snorted because Matty wasn’t funny that often. But that comment actually was.

I grabbed Matty’s beer and took a long pull of it without him noticing, my eyes going back to Parker and Casey like they had some kind of tractor beam attached to them.

It wasn’t that I was bitter about my best friend being in love.

Parker deserved it.

Casey was good for him. I’d spent enough time watching the guy nearly burn down his own life to get her to know that if anyone deserved true love, it was Parkie-poo based on his insane efforts alone.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t a little…itchy.

Like something was missing.

Like I was waiting for something—or someone—and I was getting sick of the wait.

I turned back to the bar, giving the girl that had just popped up beside me a lazy smirk when she traced a red manicured hand up my arm. “You look bored,” she purred, pressing closer.

I should’ve been interested. She was hot. Dark hair, killer curves, wearing a dress that barely qualified as clothing.

But I wasn’t.

Not at all.

“Not tonight, darlin’,” I said, giving her my best fake charming smile before I threw back another sip of beer and turned to face the other way.

Matty was watching me with an arched brow, and I snarled at him. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s creepy.”

“Maybe there is something wrong with you,” he said, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you say no to a hot girl before.”

“Hey, sometimes I say no,” I muttered half-heartedly.

Even though he was right.

Matty choked on his drink. “Name one time?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer. As I scanned the bar out of pure habit—I saw her.

My entire body fucking locked up. My chest clenched so tight I thought I was having a fucking heart attack.

I felt it before I even processed what I was looking at. A full-body reaction. Like a fucking punch to the gut.

Everything else disappeared.

The bar. The people. The music.

Gone.

Fuck.

She was standing on the far side of the dance floor, long, dark blonde hair cascading down her back, catching in the neon glow of the bar lights. A black dress clung to curves I wanted my hands on immediately. She had this softness about her, an effortless kind of beauty that made my stomach twist.

And her face. Fucking hell.

She looked like something straight out of a dream, like an angel that had dropped down in the middle of the bar.

Her beauty gutted me. And her full lips were giving me dirty, dirty images in my mind.

Just looking at her, I knew.

I was ruined.

The hand gripping my chest tightened, like I was trying to physically keep my heart from fucking combusting.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t tell Matty what I was doing. I didn’t hesitate.

I just moved.

Setting Matty’s beer bottle down, I started across the dance floor, stalking toward her like a man possessed. Some girl touched my arm, trying to get my attention. I couldn’t even look at her.

Another one said my name, trying to pull me toward her. I barely registered them.

All I could see was her .

She was fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, glancing around like she wasn’t sure what to do. By the uncomfortable look on her face, she wasn’t excited to be here.

And suddenly, that pissed me off.

Who the fuck dragged her here? The goddess in front of me only deserved a lifetime of happiness.

I was pretty sure there was a cereal commercial that claimed to offer that, but I was also pretty sure that I could deliver the goods much better.

I was kind of hyperventilating as I finally made it to her.

“We just found out Grandpa is addicted to Viagra,” I told her, stopping just short of invading her space, close enough that she could feel me, but not close enough for her to run. It wasn’t my greatest pickup line, but it was all I had in me at the moment. I was surprised I’d been able to form words at all.

Her head snapped up, and the second her wide, honey-colored eyes met mine, something clicked into place inside me. Like the fucking universe had just aligned in my favor. Like I’d been waiting my whole life to meet her.

It was over.

I was done.

She was mine.

She just didn’t know it yet.

The angel’s lips parted slightly, just enough for me to catch the way she sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the full glass she was holding. I liked that. That I had an effect on her. That she was already reacting to me.

She blinked at me, genuine confusion flashing across her face. She glanced behind her, like she thought I was staring at someone else.

But how could anyone else exist?

All right, so aliens had invaded my body. And I was perfectly okay with that.

She blinked up at me. “Um?” Fucking hell, her voice . Soft and hesitant, like she wasn’t sure what to make of me. Like she hadn’t already sunk her claws into my chest and rearranged everything inside.

I smirked. “Nobody is taking it harder than Grandma.”

She tilted her head and blinked a few times, before she finally snorted in shock…or awe. It could have gone either way. “Do I know you?” she asked, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly.

I grinned. Fuck, she was cute.

“No,” I admitted. “But you’re going to.”

Her lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile. I needed to see that smile. I needed to earn it.

“Do you always walk up to random girls and say stuff like that?” she asked, eyeing me like she was trying to figure out my angle.

“Only the one I plan on marrying,” I said, dead serious.

She finally laughed. Like a full-body, tilt-her-head-back-and-giggle kind of laugh.

I felt that shit. Like an electric shock straight to my bloodstream.

“There it is,” I murmured, feeling strangely satisfied.

“There what is?” she asked, still smiling.

“The first laugh. The first step toward our inevitable love story.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wow. Does that usually work?”

I shrugged. “It’s working right now.”

She huffed out another laugh and shook her head, finally relaxing a little. She was still hesitant, but she wasn’t running.

Yet.

I slid my hands into my pockets, leaning in slightly. “So, what’s your name?”

She tilted her head. “What’s yours ?”

“Jace,” I said immediately, wanting her to know everything about me. “Jace Thatcher.”

She nodded slowly, no hint of recognition in her gaze. That was different.

“Not a big football fan, are you?” I asked, amused.

She shrugged, a light blush hitting her cheeks. “Not exactly.”

I fucking grinned. I kind of liked that. “Your name. You were about to tell me that,” I pushed.

She hesitated, and I leaned forward, like what she was about to say was the most important thing anyone had ever told me in my life. But then she smirked, taking a sip of her drink, and said, “I’d rather not say.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged, eyes dancing with mischief. “You don’t need to know. You’re a stranger .”

The smile that I’d had since the moment I saw her face only widened. “I’m pretty sure everyone starts out a stranger in college,” I noted. “But, once you tell me your name, we won’t be strangers anymore. So, the whole stranger thing is a pretty easy problem to solve.”

She shook her head again, taking an exaggerated sip of her drink and pretending like she was suddenly fascinated by the crowd around us.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, little firecracker. Do you plan on giving me anything to work with here?”

She pursed her lips, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. No.”

“Fuck.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to steal your wallet when you’re not looking.”

She snorted again. “Good luck with that.”

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping. “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

She blushed. Just a little. Just enough. But I saw it, and I fucking thrived on it.

Huffing, she crossed her arms. “You don’t even know if I have a boyfriend or not.”

I smirked. “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh? How’s that?”

“Because if you were with someone, they’d be glued to your side. Making sure that no one else could swoop in and steal all the perfection.”

Her mouth opened in that perfect little “o” again, the one that made me want to stuff my dick down her throat.

Whoops. Any more thoughts like that, and lil’ Jace was going to be making a major appearance at the party.

And that could make her run. He tended to be a little…intimidating.

Probably because of that extra inch.

I reached out, barely skimming my fingers along her forearm. Her breath hitched, just enough for me to hear it.

“There’s also this, though,” I murmured, my voice rough, because it had rearranged my insides just touching her smooth skin. “If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t sound like that I’m thinking…you wouldn’t be looking at me like that either.”

Her eyes widened.

Got her.

She pulled back, guzzling some more of her drink, before starting to cough, a pained expression on her face because whatever she was drinking evidently tasted awful.

I grinned. “So, do you want me to buy you another drink, or are you still pretending you don’t like me?”

She hesitated, and for a second, I thought she might say no.

But then she lifted her still very full glass, and tilted her head. “I wouldn’t say no to something that actually tastes good.”

I fucking beamed. Sign the marriage license. I was gone.

She wanted me.

I could see it in the way her pulse fluttered at her throat. The way she kept tucking that long, thick blonde hair behind her ear, like she needed something to do with her hands.

Without a word, I reached out, taking her hand. The second my fingers closed around hers, my world tilted. Her hand was small and delicate, fitting perfectly in mine, and yet it sent a shockwave through my body like I’d grabbed onto a live wire. My pulse slammed against my ribs, my skin burning where we touched. It was just her palm against mine, her fingers curled slightly, hesitant, uncertain.

But I felt it.

I felt her warmth seep into me, felt the way her fingers twitched like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or hold on tighter.

Hold on tighter , baby .

I barely kept myself from saying it out loud, from tightening my grip, from lacing our fingers together just to claim her. To stitching her to my side. She had no idea what she’d just done.

She had no idea how fucking gone I already was.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was looking ahead, her lips slightly parted, her breathing just a little too shallow. Like she felt it too.

My chest clenched, something heavy settling deep inside me. I was never going to let this go.

Never.

Not if it felt like this.

I led her through the crowd, the insane urge to rip everyone’s eyeballs out riding me hard. I didn’t want them to look at her. I wanted her all to myself.

Probably wouldn’t be good this early in the relationship to lock us in a room, though. Parker had shown me that.

She was already giving me trouble, and we hadn’t even reached the bar yet. “I already have a card on file—Jace?—”

Fuck.

The way she said my name. I felt it in my chest.

It was the first time she’d said it, and I fucking loved it. I grinned. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were pink again.

I turned around and kept walking, bringing her to the bar. I didn’t want to let go of her hand until I had to.

The bartender looked up, his gaze dragging up and down her body. “What can I get you?” he asked her, like I wasn’t standing there holding her hand.

All right, that whole locked room scenario was sounding more and more like a great idea.

“My lady needs a drink,” I said, dropping my arm onto the counter and tilting my head toward my soulmate. “Something fruity.”

Her brows shot up. “You don’t even know what I like.”

“Okay, tell me what you like then,” I told her, getting so close I could inhale her breaths.

Like a psycho.

She huffed, and I tried not to be completely obvious that I was sucking it in like a crack addict. “Something fruity,” she finally mumbled…complete with an adorable eye roll.

I held in my snicker like a gentleman.

The bartender chuckled and threw a few things in a glass before sliding it over to her. “That’ll do it.”

She narrowed her eyes at the bright pink cocktail with a pineapple wedge and a tiny umbrella on top.

I grinned, grabbing the drink and plucking the umbrella out and tucking it behind her ear.

She froze, and then she smiled. A small, secretive kind of smile. Like I’d done something unexpectedly right. Her fingers brushed against mine as she took the glass from me, sending a sharp jolt of heat through my body. Holding my gaze, she took a tentative sip, and then licked her lips.

I almost groaned, my gaze caught on her pink tongue gliding across her mouth, watching the way her lips pressed against the glass, a wave of pure, unfiltered possessiveness slamming into my chest.

Fuck.

“Okay,” she admitted. “That’s pretty good.”

I took the opportunity to lean in close again. “Told you,” I murmured. “Now, tell me your name.”

She hesitated. “I’m still not giving you that.”

I grinned. “Not even if I guess?”

Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. “You’re not going to guess.”

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Angel?” She rolled her eyes.

“Sweetheart?”

“Original.”

“Sugarplum?”

She laughed—really laughed, her face lighting up with it, and it felt like a punch to the ribs.

I exhaled, raking a hand through my long hair, trying to compose myself.

Her gaze followed my hand, her eyes narrowing slightly. “So…the hair,” she said, crossing her arms. “That a phase or something?”

I smirked. “It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that. “I?—”

“Be honest.“ I cut in, leaning against the bar. “You were already imagining running your fingers through it.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “I—was not.”

“You were.” I winked. “It’s okay. Happens all the time. It can’t be helped.”

She scoffed. “And let me guess—there’s some ridiculous reason you refuse to cut it?”

“Obviously,” I said, as if that was common knowledge.

She exhaled. “Of course there is.”

I leaned in close, enjoying the way her breath hitched when my lips accidentally caressed her ear. “It has magical powers.”

She stared at me, another one of those small, secretive smiles sliding across her lips.

I nodded solemnly. “I can’t cut it. It’s part of the deal.”

She barked out a laugh. “What deal?”

“The one where I keep it long and, in return, I remain devastatingly handsome, irresistible, and completely undefeated in every battle.”

She tilted her head. “You’re comparing yourself to…what, Samson?”

“Brad Pitt in Troy ,” I corrected.

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flicking down my frame as if she were suddenly reevaluating.

I grinned. She was so checking me out.

She shook her head. “I’m not seeing the resemblance.”

“Are you sure?”

“You think you look like Brad Pitt?”

“I think Brad Pitt wishes he looked like me.”

She let out another laugh, shaking her head again as the bartender slid another drink in front of her.

“Here.” I grabbed the glass again and handed it to her, just so her fingers had to brush against mine for another moment.

I swear she shivered when we touched this time, and her body swayed toward me, like it was as desperate for my attention as I was for hers.

I set the beer I’d ordered down on the bar, completely untouched. Who needed alcohol when she was around? I literally felt drunk just breathing in her same air.

“So, tell me, Mystery Girl…what brought you out tonight?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

I gestured around us. “You didn’t seem to be having a good time before I saved you.”

Her lips parted, a little huff of indignation slipping out. “Saved me, huh?”

I grinned. “Definitely. Like the guy in Troy . Except without the heel thing,” I corrected, reaching out to twist a strand of her long, dark blonde hair between my fingers. Soft. Silky. Fucking perfect. “Just an observation, though. You kind of looked like you were waiting to be found.”

I leaned in again, because at this point, I couldn’t help myself, inhaling the faintest hint of vanilla and something warm and sweet clinging to her skin.

She scoffed, but I caught the flicker of hesitation behind it.

Maybe I wasn’t wrong. Maybe my girl had been waiting to be found.

I let the strand of her hair slip from my fingers, watching the way her breath hitched when my knuckles brushed her collarbone.

Fuck.

“Dance with me.” The words blurted out. I didn’t usually ask girls to dance. I was pretty good at it, and it could be intimidating to mere mortals, obviously. But I had a feeling she could handle it.

She made a face, biting down on her bottom lip like I’d suggested sawing off her left leg instead of rubbing up against me as “Pink Pony Club” blasted. “I don’t dance,” she finally said shyly.

“You do now.”

She looked at my hand, hesitant. But I could see the curiosity. The interest. The way her fingers twitched at her side like she was considering it. I didn’t give her a chance to say no.

I grabbed her hand, pulled her away from the bar, and led her straight to the dance floor.

The second we stepped into the crowd, the bass pulsed through my bones.

Bodies pressed together, moving in time with the music, and I turned to face her. She looked stunning—flushed cheeks, glowing under the neon lights, her hair falling over her shoulder.

She was tense at first, unsure. So I did what I do best.

I took control.

I set my hands on her waist, slow and deliberate, tugging her just close enough for her to feel my body heat. She let out the smallest breath. And then she moved. Not much. Just enough for me to feel her.

I dragged my hands over the curve of her hips, bringing her flush against me, rolling my body into hers, enjoying the gasp that fell from her lips when she felt my dick.

I leaned down, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “Relax, babycakes,” I purred. “Just pretend he’s not there.”

“He?” she asked, looking adorably confused. I pressed a little closer so she knew what I was talking about, and her cheeks took on the reddest hue of the night.

Perfection.

Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, and I felt every breath she took…every tiny movement.

I became obsessed with watching her let herself go, just a little at a time.

The music pulsed, slow and thick, curling through the air like a whispered promise. She moved with me, her body fitting against mine as if she was made for it. She followed my lead, letting me guide her with the firm press of my hands, my touch lingering, teasing as I turned her around.

I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, wondering how it felt like this was where she belonged. My palm splayed over her stomach, holding her there, keeping her exactly where I wanted her. She didn’t resist. Instead, she arched—just enough, just barely—but I felt it.

All of it.

She was so fucking soft. So impossibly perfect against me that my breath came slower, heavier.

I let my lips skim along her jawline, a ghost of a touch, just enough for my breath to dance over her skin. I heard it then —the way her breathing hitched, the barely-there whimper that slipped from her lips. Her fingers curled around my arm, nails digging in just enough to send a pulse of heat straight through me.

She was breathless. Flushed. Mine.

I turned her in my arms, not breaking the contact, not letting her slip even an inch away. Her gaze lifted to mine, pupils blown wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths.

She wanted me.

And I was going to make damn sure she knew just how badly I wanted her too.

I leaned in. “You ready to admit it yet?”

Her breath shuddered. “Admit what?”

“That you want me.”

She swallowed. “I barely know you.”

I smirked. “You will. You’re going to know me better than anyone ever has in my entire life.”

Her eyes darkened, a flicker of something reckless sparking to life—like she already knew she was about to make a bad decision and wanted to make it anyway.

I reached out, wrapping my fingers around hers before she could even think about pulling away. My grip was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. She stiffened for half a second, her lips parting, her breath catching, and then?—

“What are you doing?” Her voice was laced with something between a laugh and a warning, like she wasn’t sure if she should be amused or afraid of where this was going.

I didn’t answer. Didn’t give her time to think.

I just walked.

Straight through the crowd. Straight toward the back hallway. Straight toward the bathrooms. And she didn’t resist.

Didn’t tug her hand away. Didn’t stop me. Didn’t say no.

She followed.

Every step she took, every second she stayed close, sent a surge of fire racing through my veins. I could feel the tension winding tighter between us, heavy and crackling, the air charged with something too sharp to ignore.

She wanted this. Even if she didn’t want to admit it yet.

And I was going to make sure she did.