The Deal (Off Campus #1)(36)

"I love your chest," she breathes, and holy hell, now she's rubbing her  breasts against my pecs and I can feel her nipples poking right through  her shirt.

I want to rip that fucking shirt off. I want to draw those puckered nipples deep into my mouth and suck. But I can't. I won't.

"No." I thrust my hand in her hair and bunch it between my fingers. "We can't do this. Not tonight."

"But I want to," she whispers. "I want you so bad."

She's just uttered the words every guy wants to hear-I want you so bad-but damn it, she's drunk and I can't let her do this.

Her tongue circles my earlobe and my hips shoot off the bed. Oh Jesus. I want to be inside her.

It takes superhuman strength on my part to push her off my body. She  whimpers in protest, but when I gently touch her cheek, the whimper  turns into a happy sigh.

"We can't do this," I say gruffly. "You trusted me to look out for you, remember? Well, this is me looking out for you."

I can't see her expression in the dark, but she sounds surprised as she  says, "Oh." Then she nestles closer and I instantly tense. I'm prepared  to lay down the law again, but she simply snuggles against my body and  rests her head on my chest. "Okay. Goodnight."





  

Okay? Goodnight?

Does she actually think I'll be able to sleep after what just happened?

But she's not thinking at all. Nope, she's out like a light again, and  as her steady breathing tickles my nipple, I swallow another groan and  close my eyes, doing my best to ignore the hot lust pulsating in my  groin.

It's a long, long time before I fall asleep.





22

Hannah


I WAKE UP in Garrett Graham's arms for the second time in two weeks. Except this time … I want to be there.

Last night turned out to be a series of eye-opening experiences. I drank  in public without having a panic attack. I was forced to accept that  the rape screwed me up a lot more than I let myself admit.

And I decided that Garrett is the answer to all my problems.

My seduction attempt might have failed, but it wasn't because of a lack  of desire on Garrett's part. I know exactly what was going through his  mind-Hannah's drunk and not thinking clearly.

But he's wrong.

My brain was sharp as a tack last night. I kissed Garrett because I wanted to. I would've slept with him because I wanted to.

Now, in the light of day, I still want it. Seeing Devon left me feeling  scared and uncertain. It made me question what would happen if I got  involved with Justin. Made me wonder if I'm simply inviting more  frustration and disappointment into my life.

As insane as it sounds, a test run with Garrett might be just what I  need to work through my issues. He said so himself-he doesn't date  girls, he sleeps with them. There's no risk of him falling in love with  me or demanding a relationship. And it's not like we don't have any  chemistry. We have so much of it we could inspire an entire R&B  song.

It would be the perfect arrangement. I could have sex with a guy without  getting bogged down by all the relationship pressure. With Devon, my  sex issues were made a hundred times worse because of that pressure,  because the sex part was tangled up with the love part.

With Garrett, it can be just about the sex. Trying to put the pieces of  my sexuality back together without worrying about disappointing someone I  love.

But first, I need him to agree to it.

"Garrett," I murmur.

He doesn't stir.

I scooch closer and stroke his cheek. His eyelids flutter, but he doesn't wake up.

"Garrett," I say again.

"Mmmmfhrhghd?"

His gibberish makes me smile. I lean in and press my lips to his.

His eyes fly open.

"Morning," I say innocently.

He blinks in rapid succession. "Did I dream that or did you really just kiss me?" he asks groggily.

"You didn't dream it."

Confusion fogs his eyes, but he's growing more alert. "Why?"

"Because I felt like it." I sit up and take a breath. "Are you  one-hundred percent awake? Because there's something really important I  need to ask you."

A huge yawn overtakes his face as he slides into an upright position.  The blanket falls to his waist and his bare chest is revealed, and my  mouth promptly goes dry. He's cut like a diamond. Hard edges and  gleaming skin and pure masculinity.

"What's up?" he says in a sleep-gravelly voice.

There's absolutely no way to phrase this without sounding desperate and  pathetic, so I simply blurt out the words and let them hang in the air.

"Will you have sex with me?"

After the longest pause imaginable, Garrett wrinkles his forehead. "Now?"

Despite the embarrassment tightening my stomach, I can't stop the laugh  that pops out. "Um, no. Not now." Call me vain, but I refuse to have sex  with anyone when I have morning breath and bed head, and haven't shaved  any pertinent areas. "Maybe tonight, though?"

Garrett's expression is like a Wheel of Fortune spin, going from shocked  to incredulous to mystified, inching toward intrigued before finally  landing on suspicious. "I think this might be a prank, but I can't  figure out where you're going with it."

"It's not a prank." I meet his gaze head-on. "I want you to have sex  with me." Okay, wait, that sounds wrong. "I mean, I want to have sex  with you. I want us to have sex with each other."

His lips twitch.

Wonderful. He's trying not to laugh at me.

"Are you still drunk?" he asks. "Because if you are, I promise to play  the rare gentleman card and never bring up this conversation again."

"I'm not drunk. I'm serious." I shrug. "Do you want to or what?"

Garrett stares at me.

"Well?" I prompt.

His dark eyebrows knit together in a frown. It's pretty obvious he has no idea what to make of my request.





  

"It's a simple yes or no answer, Garrett."

"Simple?" he bursts out. "Are you kidding me? There's nothing simple  about this." He runs a hand through his hair. "Are you forgetting what  you told me at Maxwell's party? The kiss meant nothing, we're just  friends, blah, blah."

"I did not say blah blah," I grumble.

"But you said everything else." His jaw hardens. "What the hell changed from then to now?"

I swallow. "I don't know. I just changed my mind."

"Why?"

"Because I did." Aggravation pricks my chest. "What does it matter?  Since when do guys cross-examine a girl about her motives for wanting to  get naked?"

"Since you're not the kind of girl who gets naked!" he sputters.

I clench my teeth. "I'm not a virgin, Garrett."

"You're not a puck bunny either."

"So that means I'm not allowed to sleep with a guy I'm attracted to?"

He rakes both hands over his scalp now, looking equally aggravated. Then  he takes a breath, exhales slowly, and meets my eyes. "Okay, here's the  deal. I believe you're attracted to me. I mean-one, who isn't? And two,  you moan like crazy whenever my tongue's in your mouth."

I bristle. "I do not."

"Agree to disagree." He folds his sleek, muscular arms over his sleek,  muscular chest. "But I don't believe that you underwent some magical  transformation where suddenly you want to jump my bones just for the  hell of it. You know, for funsies." His head tilts thoughtfully. "What  is it, then? Do you want to get back at your ex or something? Make  Loverboy jealous again?"

"No," I say stiffly. "I just … " Frustration slams inside me. "I just want to do it, okay? I want to do you."

His expression is a peculiar combination of amused and annoyed. "Why?" he asks again.

"Because I want to, damn it. Why does there need to be some deep,  philosophical meaning behind it?" But I can see from his face that I  haven't convinced him, and I'm smart enough to know when to admit  defeat. "You know what? Forget it. Forget I asked-"

He grabs hold of my arm before I can hop off the bed. "What the hell is going on, Wellsy?"

The concern in his eyes hurts more than his rejection. I practically begged him for sex and he looks worried for me.

God, I can't even proposition a guy right.

"Forget it," I mutter again.

"No."

I yelp when he suddenly pulls me onto his lap.

"We're not having this conversation anymore," I protest as I try to scramble off him.

He plants his hands on my waist to trap me in place. "Yes, we are."

His gray eyes bore into my face, searching, probing, and I'm mortified to feel tears pricking my eyelids.

"What's this about?" he says gruffly. "Tell me what's wrong, and I'll try to help."

A hysterical giggle flies out of my mouth. "No, you won't! I just asked for your help and you shot me down!"

He looks even more bewildered than before. "You didn't ask me for help, Hannah. You asked me to fuck you."

"Same damn thing," I mumble.

"For fuck's sake, I have no frickin' idea what you're talking about!" He  inhales slowly as if trying to calm himself down. "I swear to God, if  you don't tell me what you're babbling about in the next two seconds,  I'm going to lose my shit."