Page 17 of Want Me

“Okay.” And then, after another beat, I tacked on, “Thanks.”

“No worries.” Why did he look so damn amused?

I picked up my backpack and hitched it up on my shoulder. Then we just stood there in front of each other. I wasn’t sure what was supposed to come next. Asee ya? Athank you for getting me off? Fuck my brain for getting so stupid in his presence.

“All right. Well, see ya, then.” I started to walk off, but Eric planted his palm on my shoulder and pushed me back against the wall. My heart raced as he studied my face. Fuck, he was too close. I didn’t know what he was seeing in my expression, but whatever it was loosed another chuckle from him.

“Next time, just tell me you want it. You can even text me. It’s no big deal, bro.”

“Yeah, all right.” I gave him a short nod, but he didn’t move, just stood there, his gaze roaming my face, then locking in on mine. I wet my lips nervously.

Eric’s expression softened, a half-smile curling his lips. Fuck he had nice lips. Nicer eyes. Nice everything.

I squeezed the strap of my backpack. He was still fucking there, his thumb sweeping over my collarbone, and now I couldn’t make my legs move. His head tilted slightly to the side, his lips parting on a soft exhale.

Oh shit, he was going to kiss me. I drew in a shuddery breath, still frozen. He arched a brow.

“No.” It came out softly, but was firm.

Eric shrugged and released me immediately, then took a couple of steps backward, sweeping his hand in an “after you” gesture down the hall.

He didn’t follow me, but I felt his eyes on my back until I turned the corner. I picked up speed as soon as I was out the door, forgetting the rain and how it was dousing me as I cut across the quad toward home, forgetting everything but the way his mouth had hovered before mine just seconds ago. And how much I’d fucking wanted that kiss.

3

Push Me

“Sanders.”

Mmmm. The husky sound of my name spilling from his mouth. That quirk of his lips that was half smile, half smirk, all bastard.Open up. His hands moving over my hips, clasping my jaw, forcing my mouth wider. The gleam in his eyes.

“Sanders!”

More insistent now. His grip on me tightening. Driving me, pushing me around, owning me.

“Hey, sweetpea, wake your ass up.”The jarring shake to my shoulder knocked the feathers from that delicious dream and left me grumpy.

“Don’t make me drop my balls on your chin. ’Cause I will. You know I will.” Mark’s voice was an unwelcome reality at the moment. I shut my eyes again and tried to will the dream back into existence. Eric had been about to—

The mattress bounced and down, jiggling me and my sour stomach. I reached a hand up, flailing it around, seeking contact with anything solid and found it with a sharp smack of sound.

“Ow! Watch it, dick.”

I groaned and rolled onto my back, slitting my eyes to peer up at Mark hovering over me with a terse frown as he rubbed at his jaw.

“We’re supposed to be there at eleven for setup. If you still want a ride, you better haul ass. I’m leaving in ten.”Therewas the botanical garden where our fraternity and two others were hosting a fund-raiser for the local VA hospital.

I yawned into Mark’s consternation and wiped sleep from my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. A wicked headache beat at my temples, reminding me I was still alive despite the multitude of shots I’d pounded last night. I waved Mark off. “I need another half hour. You go ahead.”

He sighed, bounced off the bed, and disappeared through my doorway. I started to get up and then flopped backward, needing another minute to let my brain catch up to daylight. It was a painful process. My mouth was whiskey-flavored sandpaper, and I gripped myself through the covers and squeezed, trying to urge the blood back through the rest of my body. The erection I was sporting could’ve held up a circus tent. Fuck Mark for interrupting that killer dream. I hoped I’d left a bruise on his jaw.

My recall of the night prior was fuzzy. Some frat brothers and I had gone to a bar. A lot of bars, actually. I lost track after the third. But I remembered that we’d ended the night at Westfire, and I’d been balls-to-the-wall hammered by then. We all had.

And who else had been there? Eric. Across the bar with a group of his own friends—Chet and Amanda and some other folks. They’d seemed cozy, all tangled up in each other and laughing. We’d eyed each other across the bar, and my thoughts had rewound back to him railing me at the library, how his breath had ghosted across my lips in the Engineering building. Mark had handed me a shot and I’d knocked it back quickly, tasting only the memory of Eric. I’d wanted things right then. A lot of things I never expected I’d want or entertain with Eric.

Like getting on my knees for him.

Or kissing him.