He looks beautiful, like a man in uniform except his man-about-town uniform is a fitted black suit and starched white shirt with a turquoise tie that makes his eyes look like polished sea stones. How a man who played football like a hungry animal hours ago can transform into the sophisticated man in front of me now takes my breath away. I’ve seen him in a suit before, at that trustee reception, but tonight something is different besides the suit.
The air about him crackles with purpose, with power, like he’s on a mission. And I’m his mission. He’s going to seduce me tonight.
Am I going to let him?
“You clean up well,” I say, hating that it’s so cliché, but proud that I can talk at all, my mouth is so full of drool.
“You look like a goddess,” he says, somehow not sounding trite or corny, more like he means it.
With his arm wrapped around me, the solid warmth of his body enveloping me in a heady circle of protection and affection, he moves me to the door.
“Have a nice evening, ladies,” he says over his shoulder to the others who I forgot all about.
Outside, he walks me to a big pearl-white Cadillac Escalade. George is at the wheel and Izzy sits with him, grinning. Jack helps me into the back seat and slides in next to me so that we’re sitting in the middle, tight together as if we’re glued at the sides.
Turning his head to me, his mouth close to my ear, he whispers, “The dress suits you.”
Izzy and George greet us. Izzy is over the top excited, practically bouncing in her seat.
“This is going to be such a fun night,” she says. More than once.
We pull up to the St. Paul auditorium where the ball is being held in the massive lobby.
“They have valet parking?” I’m impressed though I can’t help thinking it’s over the top for a college campus. Izzy turns to me.
“You’re in for a night, Joni. This is the event of the year. The whole campus is here. All dressed up for one night of opulent decadence.”
Jack scoffs. “Yeah. The rest of the semester the decadence is on the down low.”
George brings his car to a stop and hands over his keys to the valet. Jack throws open the door next to him and pulls me out his side at the curb. I notice some of the students walking, some in limos, some in Uber and Lyft rides.
“Maybe we should have gotten a ride. Now poor George won’t be able to have a drink,” I say.
“No problem,” Jack says as we walk up the steps with George and Izzy behind us. “George doesn’t drink. Neither do I. You’re in safe hands.” His hand rests at the small of my back and I wish he’d wrap it around me against the chill in the air.
“Good to know.”
“You’re welcome to drink if you want.”
I laugh. “I know. I’m not your servant”
He gives me a smoldering look and I’m not sure what his implication is, but I’ve seen enough porn videos involving BDSM—at Dooley’s insistence and to quench my naughty curiosity—so that I have a clue. I heat up and turn away, not wanting to get caught in another blush. I’m twenty-one freaking years old, not a sixteen-year-old, not that sixteen-year-old who’d been at his mercy all those years ago.
We wait for George and Izzy on the wide plaza in front of the doors and a crowd gathers, buzzing and staring, not moving inside. Then I realize they’re looking at us, at Jack. And at me. When the first person calls out and aims their phone at us as George and Izzy reach the top of the steps and join us, Jack puts an arm around my shoulders and swings me away.
“Let’s get inside,” he whispers. “Not that we’ll be any less a spectacle inside, but I was told security will be looking out for us if anyone gets too intrusive.”
“Security? What the hell? We’re in college—”
We walk inside the spectacular lobby, the chandelier’s low light glittering overhead.
“I know,” he says, apology on his face. “The athletic department pays attention to my security ever since the stalker incident last year.”
I take my eyes from my surroundings and stare at him. “Did you say stalker?” My mouth is open and I don’t even care if I look stupid because this can’t be for real. He has to be teasing me. “You’re not serious?”
“Deadly. But don’t worry. She’s gone.”
“You actually had a stalker? A woman? She was after you? And she was dangerous?”
“Not at first, but yeah. Turned out that way.”
I laugh. He shrugs. “Don’t believe me. No matter. Let’s check out the band.”
George says, “Man, I think Izzy and I are sitting with Tristan. You coming or staying loose?”
“Loose.”
“What does that mean?” I’m bewildered.
Izzy says, “He doesn’t want to sit because then he’s like a sitting duck. People take pics and come up to us and girls ask him to dance. It gets embarrassing, So he roams.”
“Never mind,” Jack says. “Let’s go.” He pulls on my hand and I go with him.
“Shit. I had no idea you had a cult following.” I’m half serious.
“It’s not that bad. Don’t pay attention to Izzy. She likes attention. Me? I’d just as soon walk around, visit with people.” He gives me a wink, “Dance with my favorite girl.”
“You mean your girl of the moment.”
“It’s been a long-ass moment, then, princess.” He sweeps me into his arms as we reach the dance floor. The band plays something slow and there’s only a few couples dancing. Though we stay close to the stage, it’s not too loud to talk. Besides, he’s practically breathing in my ear and the warmth ironically makes me shiver.
“You’re not trying to imply you’ve been into me for any longer than a few weeks.”
“Ever since the barbeque at Lake Winnipesaukee.”
My chest tightens so hard I can’t breathe and I stop moving. He tightens his hold and looks into my eyes.
“Tell me you didn’t feel it? That all this time you didn’t harbor a secret crush on me, even when I named you—”
“Don’t say it.” My heart thuds wildly like the demons are pounding at me from inside, warning me not to listen to him.
“I’ll never call you that again, Joni. I promise.” The whisper of his words soothe me and tune me up like a violin strung too tight. We’re playing a dangerous game. But I can’t stop. And I know he has no intention of stopping.
“What do you want from me, Jack?” I have the nerve to wonder out loud the thing that I ask myself every night.
“Everything,” he says, no hesitation, no game in his voice.
“That’s a cop-out. Everything is a word that means nothing.”
“Says the English Lit major.” There’s a smile in his voice. His lips brush my temple.
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
He sighs and I feel the weariness in him, the fatigue of someone who struggles every day, but that shouldn’t be. I know it’s true, but how could his life be so hard when it seems so easy? He’s so smart and so talented and so popular. How much more could a guy have to make his life easy? Why should he be struggling so?
“I want your loyalty. I want your promise to protect me from gossip. I want you.”
“Me?” I turn my head to look at him, tilting my head up only slightly.
“Your attention. Your time. And your body.”
The vibration of answering need zips through me, shaking me to the core.
“Oh, that’s all.” I hear the shakiness in my voice. I see the knowing in his eyes. He sees everything down to my soul. He has all the control.
“Don’t ask the question if—”
“I know. If I can’t handle the answer.”
“How about if we keep this light?” he says.
“Too late.”
“Says who?” He grins, moves apart and twirls me around. “I can do fun, princess.”
My heart flutters at the way he calls me that. I want to tell him not to, but I love the thrill of it, the special sound of it as if h
e means it. He’s getting me drunk on his attention, in his arms with his scent and his heat and the power of his body. The power of his essence, everything about him, some kind of special narcotic energy that makes up Jack Hunter.
“But can you have fun?” I want to know. I want to be wrong.
“I aim to prove I am the most fun man you’ve ever met, honey.” He twirls me again. I laugh, let myself be seduced. For now. I can afford it while we’re on the dance floor in a crowd of people, right? I glance around. I notice a few phones aimed at us and tense up, catch Jack’s eyes. He takes me back into his arms, strokes a hand down my back.
“Don’t worry. We’re only dancing. They can have their vids and pics of us dancing. Maybe they’ll send us copies for our scrapbook.” He’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners as if it’s all a big joke, but I can see the strain in his jawline, the awareness that he’s being objectified. Because he’s been an object more than a person on this campus for years now. Understanding of his weariness crashes down on me, sweeping away whatever concerns I’ve had about being with him.
I will protect him as he’s asked, because he needs it. He needs someone who knows he’s a person, knows who that person is, someone he doesn’t need to pretend with.
“You’re not a bad dancer for a clumsy football jock,” I say, smiling and meaning it.
“You’re not bad yourself. But then it wouldn’t matter if you had two left feet.” He pulls me close. “You know why, Joni?”
I shake my head, my heart stumbling, my breathing short, stupid with anticipation, starving for his approval.
“Because you’re beautiful, no matter what you do, no matter what you wear. You’re a beautiful woman inside and out.” He puts his cheek to mine and holds me, barely swaying, making me feel rare, like a treasure. Like I’m his.
When I finally get my breathing under control, I work up the nerve to answer him.
“You know what you are, Jack?”
He faces me to look into my eyes and I want to laugh at his expression.
“I’m not sure I want to know what you think I am.” He chuckles with real amusement.
“I think you’re brave and tough. But most of all, I think you’re the sexiest man-boy I’ve ever seen. You intoxicate me.” I know I’ve gone too far with that admission, but the sexy glassiness of his dilated pupils is so worth it.
“You have me excited, princess. Watch out. Sexiest is a lot to live up to.” He lowers his hands down my back, resting them at the top of my rear as he pulls me into his hips. “But I think I’m up to it. What do you think?”
Dizziness strikes me as the feel of his long hard cock against the vee of my thighs fills my head and takes over every fraction of my sensual awareness. My voice chokes and I can’t even speak. What would I tell him? He had me at You’re a beautiful woman inside and out?
When he bends his head and kisses that spot on my neck behind my earlobe, he slides his hands up my back and leads me off the dance floor. That’s when I realize the music stopped.
“Let’s get something cold to drink.” His voice cracks, sounding truly parched. Like I feel. I nod, collecting my head. Random people nod, congratulate him, high five him, and slap him on the back as we walk through the growing crowd. They nod and smile at me as if they know me.
I don’t recognize anyone until I see a couple of Izzy’s sorority girlfriends. They say hello and make some comment about my dress.
“Hi, thank you” I say, but they quickly shift their focus from me to Jack.
“Don’t forget to save a dance for us, Jack. The way you always do.”
“Don’t count on it tonight,” he says, moving forward. They follow.
The girl in red—I wish I could remember her name—makes a face. “What do you mean? You need to spread yourself around. Isn’t that what you always say, Jack?” He smirks and she shifts her focus back to me, the other girls chorusing in with their agreement.
“It’s only fair if you share, Joni. He doesn’t belong to anyone, after all.” I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Jack’s arm is slipping from around me as we move.
Another girl asks, “Hey, Jack, is it true that you can go all night?” That gets some laughs, but he doesn’t answer, only wiggles his brows.
“What do you say, girl of the night?” I don’t know who she is and apparently, she doesn’t know who I am either. I have no idea what to say, but I’m more than annoyed now at the flavor of the commentary. Doe these women have no shame? No sense of what’s private?
Jack stops and turns to her, “Joni is a Jack virgin, ladies. Leave her alone.” They laugh, scoffing and disbelieving, and he reclaims me with a firm grip around my shoulders.
“Not for long,” some guy who overheard shouts.
Jack turns to him and levels a stare. “Don’t be disrespectful, Backus.” The guy named Backus backs off with palms up and surprise on his face. Appreciation rushes through me, warm and satisfying.
Maybe it’s not all meaningless flirtation between enemies with me and Jack. That’s a dangerous thought.
All this, everything that happens tonight is like one of those drunken benders that once you pass out you don’t remember a thing when you wake up and you move on with your life. Not that I’m in a habit of having drunken benders. I only got pass-out drunk once in my life and that was enough. But I get how it works, and that’s how this night is going to work.
I’ll drink in so much of Jack in one night that I’ll pass out and forget about everything tomorrow and move on with my life. Without him. Except for the calc lessons. And protecting him from gossip.
We get to the bar and the crowd parts in a biblical mockery, allowing Jack to order us two ice waters. He leaves a five-dollar tip for the kid bartending and wins the praise and approval of everyone in range. Cameras come out in full force. I think the number of camera shots rises directly in proportion to the amount of drinking that goes on. The crowd is definitely bigger and more raucous than when we got here.
Jack takes me to a corner not far from Tristan and George’s table, slapping them on the back as we walk by. Izzy sits on George’s lap drinking some kind of umbrella drink and I don’t recognize the other women at the table. We lean against the wall behind their table and he downs his water. I sip mine and we put the glasses on a nearby tray.
“I think I may need to find out what all the fuss is about,” I confess.
“Oh yeah? What fuss would that be?” he says, holding me close enough I’m dizzied by his hard muscles. I look up into his eyes. It’s a kick to have to look up. I wore my two-inch heels to make sure I’d have the opportunity. But I needn’t have worried because his dress shoes lift him to six seven at least and even with my four-inch spikes I’d be looking up at that—and down at everyone else. As it is, we towered over everyone else on the dance floor like giants in the land of Lilliput. Or like the king and queen of the Homecoming ball. If there was such a thing. There used to be such things, and I can only imagine them in my shamelessly girly musings. Only for one night. My Cinderella night. Then I promise myself to go back to being cool and smart.
Besides, he can’t hurt me anymore. I know his Achilles’ heel. Me. My family. And his resentment thereof. I sigh and lean into him to whisper my answer in his ear, automatically breathy, without flirty purpose even as I imagine the next hours with him alone.
“The fuss is about how outstanding you are in bed.”
“I do stand out. A good ten inches.”
My face blazes and I pull away to look him in the eye.
“You exaggerate, you liar.”
“You afraid to find out?” He pulls me back against him, his hand on my bottom, pressing me against his erection again. Holy Kansas. It’s bigger and harder than before.
“Maybe I am. Now. You’ve scared me.” My heart pounds and I’m only half teasing. He chuckles into my ear, moving the tendrils of hair at my temple with his breath and I shiver like a little girl trying to play grown-up.
Bu
t I am a grown woman. And I realize I want him. Like a real grown lusty woman with hormones bursting into my creamy thong right this second. Shit.
“Don’t you worry, Joni darlin’. I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Do you think it’s possible for enemies to be lovers and come away unscathed?” I say, because maybe I need the last bit of reassurance.
He lifts his head away from me then and I’m sorry I asked, spoiling the heady moment of sensual bliss.
“I won’t hurt you, Joni. If you just remember one thing.”
“What’s that?” I’m afraid I already know the answer based on everything Izzy’s told me.
“I’m not yours and I never will be.”
“Well, thank God,” I say. I mean it. He’s too hot to handle, more than I can imagine taming. He’s untamable and I know it. The idea bites at me like a shark outside my cage, rattling me. But I’m not fool enough to open the cage door. I only want to play from the safety of the understanding that we’ll remain enemies for life, forever separated by our mutual resentment and shared secrets.
He drives me home in the pearly white SUV, and I’m buzzed as if I’d been drinking champagne all night. Or maybe it’s the surreal out-of-body feel of the night that makes the SUV seem like my pumpkin, makes me want to lose more than a glass slipper. The night, the scent and power of this man conspire to make me want to lose my Jack-virginity.
We get up to my room without encountering anyone because it’s still early, well before the bewitching hour, and I giggle at my own musings. He opens the door and my room is backlit by a nightlight that mimics a flickering candle and when I reach for the light switch, he covers my hand, stopping me.
“Leave it like this.”
“You’re a romantic?” I almost hiccup with nerves, feeling jumpy down to my cells.
“Not exactly,” he says, “but I do like the way the light flickers against your hair, making it shimmer.” His voice is a gravelly whisper, like we’re in church. Some different kind of church. The kind where I’m about to worship at the altar of Jack Hunter, campus god, the hottest football player in the country. I almost scoff out loud.
Big Man on Campus: an Enemies to Lovers College Romance (Big Men on Campus Book 1) Page 16