Page 62 of Touchdown, Tennessee

And my ex who knows my secret is going to be there.

Drunk.

Possibly leaking info to you that I can’t have public.

“Oh, I’m coming to the frat party,” he said. “Luke insisted, after all.”

I wanted to smack Gray in the face right now.

Or sock him in the face.

Or fuck that self-assured attitude right out of him.

“Get your ass in gear,” Luke said as he returned to my side. “Shower off. We’re fucking raging tonight, boys.”

Goddamnit.

Within another thirty minutes, all of us had walked across campus to the frat house.

My ears were two antennae as we walked.

Constantly listening for anything the guys said that Gray might try to spin in his article.

So far, the guys just traded jokes about the game, talked about how much beer they were going to drink tonight, and laughed through the campus streets.

We got the music bumping in the house as soon as we arrived, and the boys had double shots in everyone’s hands within five minutes.

When Danny Ennick walked in, wearing fancier clothes than I’d ever seen him in, I felt a tight spring coiling in my chest.

Danny had dark hair that I used to like, but he’d buzzed it all off.

He looked different.

Or maybe I justfeltdifferently about him, now that I knew he was a cheating bastard.

And that he knew I punched his boytoy.

He gave me a curt nod, then headed into one of the back rooms where some of the other guys were playing a game of pool. I saw Gray glance over at Danny, but luckily I didn’t think he knew Danny was Coach’s son.

A game of beer pong started up soon after, and I noticed that a lot of the guys were filling the cups with whiskey drinks instead of just beer.

“You first,” Luke said, pointing right at Gray.

“I’m game,” he said, walking over to the opposite side of the table.

Gray took off his scarf and sweater, revealing a black T-shirt underneath. The whiskey was just starting to hit my blood.

I stared at Gray’s big tattoo.

AndallI could picture was how he looked naked.

The grip of his fingers.

The way he’d held me against the wall, his hot skin hitting mine from behind.

Seeing that panther tattoo in my peripheral vision as he stuffed his fingers past my lips.

I’d always thought that being a good kisser always meant a guy would be a good fuck, and Gray Gilman was the goddamnpinnacleof that combination.