The Deal (Off Campus #1)(26)

"Come on," he mocks. "We don't have all night, baby."

Now I'm bristling. Screw it. It's just a kiss, right? I don't even have  to like it. Shutting that smart mouth of his will be reward enough.

Arching a brow, I reach up and touch his cheek.

His breath hitches.

I sweep my thumb over his jaw, stalling, waiting to see if he'll stop me, and when he doesn't, I slowly bring my mouth to his.

The second our lips meet, the strangest thing happens. Pulsing waves of  heat unfurl inside me, starting at my mouth and then rippling down my  body, tingling in the tips of my breasts before traveling even lower. He  tastes like the peppermint gum he's been chewing all night and the  minty flavor suffuses my taste buds. My lips part of their own volition,  and Garrett takes full advantage by sliding his tongue inside. When my  tongue tangles with his, he makes a low, growling noise in the back of  his throat, and the erotic sound vibrates through my body.

Immediately, I'm hit with a jolt of panic that spurs me to break the kiss.

I suck in a shaky breath. "There. How was that?" I'm trying to sound  unaffected by what just happened, but the slight wobble in my voice  betrays me.

Garrett's eyes are molten. "Not sure. It wasn't long enough for me to properly judge. I'm gonna need more to go on."

His big hand cups my cheek.

This should be my cue to leave.

Instead, I lean in for another kiss.

And it's just as eerily incredible as the first. As his tongue slicks  over mine, I stroke his cheek, and God, that's a big mistake because the  scratchy feel of his stubble on my palm intensifies the pleasure  already wreaking havoc on my body. His face is strong and masculine and  sexy, and the sheer maleness of him triggers another burst of need. I  need more. I didn't expect to, but damn it, I need more.

With an anguished moan, I angle my head to deepen the kiss, and my  tongue eagerly explores his mouth. No, not eagerly-hungrily. I'm hungry  for him.





  

Garrett threads his fingers through my hair and tugs me closer, one  powerful arm curling around my hip to keep me in place. My breasts are  now crushed against his rock-hard chest, and I can feel the wild  hammering of his heart. His excitement matches my own. The raw, husky  groan he releases tickles my lips and sends my pulse careening.

Something's happening to me. I can't stop kissing him. He's too  addictive. And even though this might have started with me somewhat in  charge, I'm no longer in control.

Garrett's mouth moves over mine with skill and confidence that steals  the breath from my lungs. When he nibbles on my bottom lip, I feel an  answering tug in my nipples, and press one palm to his chest to ground  myself, to try to keep from floating away in a mindless cloud of  pleasure. His hot lips leave mine and travel along my jaw line, dipping  down to my neck, where he plants open-mouthed kisses that leave shivers  in their wake.

I hear a tortured whimper, and I'm startled to realize it came from me.  I'm desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. I thrust one hand in his  hair to bring him back to where I want him, but the dark strands are too  short to grab onto. All I can do is pull his head forward, which  summons a low chuckle from him.

"Is this what you want?" he rasps, and then his lips find mine, and he thrusts that talented tongue into my mouth again.

A moan leaves my throat at the exact moment the bedroom door swings open.

"Hey, G, I need to borrow a-"

Dean grinds to a halt.

With a squeak of horror, I tear my mouth away from Garrett's and shoot to my feet.

"Oops. Didn't mean to interrupt." Dean's grin takes up his entire face, and his twinkling green eyes make my cheeks scorch.

I snap back to reality faster than you can say biggest mistake ever.  Holy shit. I've just been caught making out with Garrett Graham.

And I was enjoying it.

"You're not interrupting," I blurt out.

Dean looks like he's fighting back laughter. "No? Because it sure seems like it."

Despite the tight knot of embarrassment lodged in my throat, I force  myself to glance at Garrett, silently pleading for backup, but his  expression catches me off guard. Deep intensity and a flash of  annoyance, but the latter is directed at Dean. And thrown into the mix  is something akin to fascination, as if he can't believe what he and I  just did.

I can't believe it either.

"So this is what you two do when you're up here," Dean drawls. "All that  deep, intensive tutoring." He air-quotes the last word, chuckling in  delight.

His teasing irks me. I don't want him thinking that Garrett and I  are … involved. That we've been fooling around for the past week behind  everyone's backs.

Which means I have to nip his suspicions in the bud. ASAP.

"Actually, Garrett's just helping me brush up on my make-out skills," I  tell Dean in the most casual voice I can muster. At this point, telling  the truth is far less humiliating than letting his imagination run wild,  but the confession sounds insane when I utter it out loud. Yep, just  honing my kissing skills with the captain of the hockey team. No biggie.

Dean snickers. "'That so?"

"Yes," I say firmly. "I have a date coming up and your friend here  thinks I don't have any moves. Trust me, we're not into each other. At  all." I realize that Garrett still hasn't said a single word, and I turn  to him for confirmation. "Right, Garrett?" I ask pointedly.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still gravelly as hell when he speaks. "Right."

"Okay … " Dean's eyes gleam. "Then I'm calling your bluff, baby doll. Show me your moves."

I blink in surprise. "What?"

"If a doctor told you you've got ten days to live, you'd go for a second  opinion, wouldn't you? Well, if you're worried about being a crappy  kisser, you can't just take G's word for it. You need a second opinion."  His brows lift in challenge. "Let me see what you've got."

"Stop being a jackass," Garrett mutters.

"No, he has a point," I answer awkwardly, and my brain screams, What?

He has a point? Apparently Garrett's body-melting kisses have turned me  into a crazy person. I'm shaken up and confused, and most of all, I'm  worried. Worried that Garrett will know I … what? That I'd never been so  turned on from a kiss before? That I loved every second of it?

Yes, and yes. That's precisely what I don't want him to know.

So I saunter over to Dean and say, "Give me a second opinion."





  

He seems startled for a second, before breaking out in another grin. He  rubs his hands together, then cracks his knuckles as if he's preparing  for a fight, and the ridiculous gesture makes me laugh.

When I reach him, his bravado falters. "I was just kidding, Wellsy. You don't have to-"

I cut him off by leaning on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth to his.

Yep, that's me, just another college coed kissing one guy after the other.

This time, there's no heat. No tingles. No sense of overpowering  desperation. Kissing Dean is nothing compared to the way it felt kissing  Garrett, but Dean seems to enjoy it, because he lets out a groan when I  part my lips. His tongue enters my mouth, and I let it. Only for a few  seconds, and then I step back and put on my most nonchalant face.

"Well?" I prompt.

His eyes are completely glazed over. "Uh." He clears his throat. "Uh … yeah … I don't think you have anything to worry about."

He looks so stunned that I can't help but smile, but my humor dissolves  when I turn to see Garrett rising from the bed, his chiseled face darker  than a thundercloud.

"Hannah," he starts roughly.

But I can't listen to the rest. I don't want to think about that kiss  anymore. Or ever. The mere memory of it makes my head spin and my heart  pound.

"Good luck on the makeup tomorrow." The words rush out in a fast stream  of nervousness. "I've gotta take off now, but let me know how it goes,  'kay?"

Then I quickly gather up my things and hurry out of the room.





17

Hannah


"YOU LOST A bet," Allie says dubiously.

"Yep." I sit at the edge of the bed and lean over to zip up my left boot, deliberately avoiding my roommate's gaze.

"And now you're going out with him."

"Uh-huh." I rub my thumb over the side of the boot and pretend I'm wiping away a smudge on the leather.

"You're going out with Garrett Graham."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"I call shenanigans."

Of course she does. A date with Garrett Graham? I might as well have announced I'm marrying Chris Hemsworth.

So no, I don't blame Allie for looking so flabbergasted. The I lost a  bet excuse was the best one I'd been able to come up with, and it's  feeble at best. Now I'm wondering if I should just fess up and tell her  about Justin.

Or better yet, if I should cancel the date altogether.

I haven't seen Garrett since … the big mistake … as I'm now referring to the  kiss. He texted me yesterday after he wrote the makeup exam. Four  measly words, two of which aren't even real: "easy peasy lemon squeezy."

I won't lie, I was thrilled to hear it had gone well. But not thrilled  enough to initiate an actual conversation, so I simply sent back one  word-"nice"-and that was the only contact we had up until twenty minutes  ago, when he messaged to say he was on his way to pick me up for the  party.