Man of My Dreams(57)

I shake my head. I don’t know him, but I know of him; about how he likes to date the younger girls, the freshmen and sophomores. He has an infamous track record of promising them an invitation to prom and then stealing their virginity. It’s probably in my best interest to stay far from Craig Jeffries. See, I don’t need Grace to steer me away from trouble.

“Thanks, Chelsea, but he’s not my type.”

She hands me a freshly pumped cup of ice cold beer. I take it, not quite sure if I will actually go through with consuming it. “Well, there’s plenty to choose from. How about him?”

I look over my shoulder to check on Grace, she’s staring into space, or at the rowdiness taking place in the pool. She’s okay. Then I focus in the direction of Chelsea’s long, painted finger.

Wow! Who’s that? “Wow! Who’s that?”

“He’s a friend of Kate’s, my sister. He goes to college with her. He’s really nice...really cute, right?”

“Um, yeah.” It’s hard not to stare.

“While you were deciding about Craig, I saw him eyeing you. Want me to take you over and introduce you?”

Do I? Do I ever! Why not? Where’s the harm in talking to a hot, older guy? Considering all the temptation here tonight, chatting it up with a college student seems like the lesser of all the evils.

His name is Jake. He’s studying Anthropology and right now I’m studying his luscious lips. I’ve taken a few sips of the beer that’s starting to get too warm, just to quench my thirst and keep my tongue from getting dry. Occasionally, I look back at Grace to make sure she’s still there. Yup, still there, glowering. What a wet blanket! I wonder if Jake has a friend.

“You have really pretty eyes, Mia. I can hardly see them out here in the dark, though. Can I take you inside? You look kind of cold.”

His eyes drop down to my chest and he grins. I guess my body has spoken and he’s not shy in taking notice.

I cross my arms, not too abruptly, to cover my double-crossing double-Ds and Jake puts his arm around me. I guess we’re going inside. I glance over to Grace to let her know I’m changing scenery, but I see she’s made a friend. Good for her. Maybe now she’ll have a good time and not feel like she has to babysit me.

When we get inside, Jake finds an open spot on the stairs leading up to what I guess are the bedrooms. He pats the carpeted step next to him, and I comply by taking a seat.

“I was right,” he says, getting closer, “you do have beautiful eyes.”

My eyes are brown. I guess they’re nice, but I’d always wished they were blue or green or even grey. But Jake doesn’t seem to mind the plain, chocolate hue.

“Thank you,” I say looking down at my hands.

His finger grazes my jawline, landing right under my chin. He tilts my head up, and I clench my legs together. The tumbling in my stomach is creeping between my thighs. This so beats banging noses with Billy Denks.

Before I can even close my eyes in preparation for it, his lips are on mine. He forces my mouth open with his stiff tongue, and then invades it with in and out motions. His method reminds me of something serpentine, but I can’t lie and say it isn’t doing crazy things to my insides.

I give in to the fanatical heat rising within and lean in closer, letting him take me along on our lip-locked journey. It’s amazing what a tongue can do. How many ways it can move; tangling, swirling, licking, lapping. How the one tiny muscle in your body can take control over all the others.

My back is against the wall of the stairway, Jake’s fingers are curled into the loops of my jeans. I am basically backed in a corner, but I don’t feel as if I’m here against my will. I’m enjoying this. It’s about time...it took sixteen years to feel this good.

Jake stops kissing me. Panting, he stares at me with dark dilated eyes and a swollen mouth. How long have we been at it? Do my lips wear the same evidence of our not so innocent behavior?

He stands up, hanging an open hand in front of me. I can’t help but notice something shifting in his jeans. To think that I had the power to do that to a college boy...I can’t imagine my inexperienced kissing is that potent.

“Come with me, Mia?”

There’s a voice in my head telling me not to. That same voice convinced me not to smoke the alluring pot or to get drunk on the frothy beer. The thumping of my heart and the throbbing of my groin trumps the nagging voice. What’s the harm in going up there? I’d be happy to continue this without an audience anyway.

I extend my hand, grabbing onto his and accepting his invitation.

He pulls me up the steps and I nearly trip from the speed at which we’re traveling. But underneath my clumsiness I’m as excited as he is to get behind a closed door and continue our make-out session.