She Wants It All: Sheridan Hall Series, Book Three

by Calla, Jessica

  She’s still holding the bag of letters over the board. She actually wants to play Scrabble. I take a deep breath, pick my seven tiles, and set them on the rack. I wait for her to pull her tiles out of the bag, completely distracted by the sight of her.

  “Well?” She waves her hand over the board. I swear I still taste the cherry from her lips. “Make a move, David.”

  I can’t speak. Her voice is sexy, soft but strong. Teasing. Make a move, David.

  I shake my head and look down at my letters. I can’t see them, never mind form a word. I look back at Maggie. She’s studying her tiles and doesn’t seem to notice or care that her bra strap has fallen off her shoulder and peeks out from under her sleeve.

  I do though. It’s yellow and covered in lace. Fuck. I resist the urge to reach out and touch it. She pushes her hair back over her ear. My shorts pull as my body reacts. I scan all the places I touched, thinking about my lips on her earlobe, my hands pulling those yellow straps down over her shoulders. I imagine moving my lips lower, over her chest—

  “See something you’re interested in?” My eyes dart back up to hers. She’s watching me watch her.

  “Are you trying to be super sexy, or does it come naturally for you?”

  She grins. “Are you going to make a move or not?” She tilts her chin toward the board, indicating that she’s referring to the letter tiles. Still, there’s no mistaking the flirt in her voice.

  Do I want to play Scrabble, or do I want to surrender and get the woman I’ve wanted for so long?

  Gentleman. Be a gentleman. I think of my grandmother to get Maggie out of my head, at least long enough to read my tiles. L S P I L E C. Okay, brain. Work your magic. Spill. Splice. That’s a good one. Piles. Spec. Is that a word? Then I see it.

  Although it’s not as long as splice, I pull the letters and lay them across the star in the middle of the board. “LIPS.”

  When she sees my word, her lips form a slow, deliberate grin. She looks up at me.

  “It says lips.” I pop the “p.”

  “I see.” Then she bites hers and looks at mine.

  Then, after a long second that feels like an hour, I’m done.

  I jump over the Scrabble board and tackle her with a kiss. She lands on my pillow, her hair spreading around her. Letter tiles fly off the bed, clicking onto the floor. I could not care less as I stretch over Maggie, my tongue teasing its way into her mouth and my fingers desperately searching for that yellow strap on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” I moan into her mouth.

  She giggles. “Why?”

  I rub my nose over hers as she touches my face. Her hands feel soft like velvet as she moves her thumbs over my stubble. “Because when you’re in my bed looking like you look, like in all those dreams I’ve had about you, all I can think about is touching you. Not in a G-rated way either.”

  She lifts her head off my pillow to kiss me, talking against my lips. “That’s nothing to be sorry for, rock star.”

  And for the first time in my life, after a hundred or so gigs onstage—where people clapped and girls threw themselves at me, where I’ve held microphones and guitars and the audience’s attention as they sang along with me—I actually feel like one. A rock star. Because of this beautiful blonde bombshell under me, kissing me and letting me touch her.

  When I press my weight onto Maggie, she squirms. “Ouch!”

  I roll off of her. “Did I hurt you?”

  She wiggles. “No. There’s a tile jabbing my back.”

  She squirms around and pulls out the tile. She goes to throw it, but I see the letter and take it from her.

  “Wait! It’s my favorite letter.” I flip it around for her to see.

  She pouts in a happy, hot girl kind of way. “U?”

  “You,” I repeat. Then I put it on the headboard behind her and kiss her again.

  Maggie

  I’m falling off a cliff. Drowning. Sinking in quicksand. I’m done. Put a fork in me and toss me to the chickens, done.

  I like Dave. I’m completely falling for him. Damn me… Historically, I flirt and fall in love, but this feels different. I barely know him and I don’t care. I don’t care that he doesn’t know me. I don’t care about my past with Winston and Dave’s past with whomever he’s had before tonight. I don’t care that school ends in a couple of weeks and I may never see him again. Frankly, I don’t care whether he feels the same. But the second he flips that tile and sings his word, “You,” it’s over. I’m out for the count.

  All I feel with him on top of me is lust. The passionate kind, unplanned, uncontained, and reckless. The kind I’ve always craved but have never had.

  His hands feel like fire over my skin. I kiss him harder and can’t stop my body from wrapping around his. I lift my leg over his hip and move his hand down to my thigh. He’s careful when he touches me—maybe because he’s serious about taking it slow. But I have wants too. And slow isn’t one of them.

  He grabs my leg, and the skirt of my dress moves up over my hip. I feel the air on my backside as I tug at his shirt. When he pulls away, I think he’s going to make us stop, but he pulls his shirt over his head with one swoop of his arm, his eyes never leaving mine. They’re not twinkling now. They’re dark, and his eyelids are heavy as he watches me.

  I trail my hands over his bare skin, from his waist, up his side, to his chest. Then I move my hand down to the waistband of his shorts, enjoying every inch along the way. Even though it’s only been since Valentine’s Day, it feels like forever since I’ve touched someone else’s skin. I block everything from the past out of my mind.

  “Magdalena,” he says, with his throaty, beautiful voice. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined.” He kisses his way around my neck, over my shoulders, pulling at the material as his lips move over me. His breath is like a beat, his sighs the song. I join in his tune when his lips find mine. “You’re all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.”

  I smile. I can’t help it. It’s like a line from a romance novel, and it’s directed at me.

  Dave smiles back and reaches for a chunk of my hair. He twists it around, watching it fall through his fingers. When he kisses me again, I find the hem of my dress and pull it up between us, over my head.

  I toss it onto the floor.

  Dave stops kissing me and glances down over my body. I squirm under his gaze, wanting him to touch me, to kiss me again. When I’m about to beg him, his tongue invades my mouth. His long, lean chest presses into mine. Every inch of him feels hard and warm against me. Except his shorts, which are a little too rough for my most sensitive area.

  Ah, now here’s the rock star I’ve been waiting for. I moan his name. “You still have clothes on.”

  “I do.”

  He looks at my mouth, his eyes wide, waiting for my move. “Take them off,” I demand.

  He bends forward and bites my lip. “Jesus, Maggie. I’m afraid if I take them off, then things will happen.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I want all the things to happen.” I sing and draw out the “all.”

  He mimics my song. “All?”

  I nod.

  He leans up on his elbow. “Just so we’re clear….”

  I huff. “Sex.”

  “Before you thought we should wait.”

  “That was a dumb thought.” I smile and kiss his nose.

  He pulls away, and I’m afraid I lost him. But he slides his shorts down and gets naked. “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, I’m sure. I have a condom in my wristlet.” I point to it on his desk.

  He reaches for it and opens it, pulling out the silver-wrapped goodie. “I can’t believe this is my life right now.”

  I smile. I can’t stop smiling. “Do you want me?” I know he does.

  He nods.

  “Then make me feel it.” It’s a statement that comes out as a question. I need him to touch me. I need to experience what being wanted means.

  He watches me, tracing a line from my sho
ulder down to my belly button. “I dream about touching you.”

  “You do?”

  He lies next to me, putting the condom somewhere behind my head. “Your skin is so soft. Even in my dreams it’s not this soft.”

  I let out a deep breath and settle back, squirming. My body is warm and alive as he moves his fingers over me. They graze my shoulders, my chest, and my belly. He plays me like a song, to a rhythm only we can hear. His gentle touch is all I need to set me into a frenzy, and when his fingers end up between my legs, I let out a long sigh.

  I can’t help but compare him to Win. While Win and I had sex down to a science, what Dave does to me feels nothing like science. It’s all heart. All soul.

  He covers my mouth with his as his fingers move. His entire body presses into mine, but all I focus on is that hand.

  “Touching you makes me so happy,” he murmurs.

  I want to say something, but the magic hand between my legs is all I can think about. I let out a soft moan.

  He kisses my ear. “This is what I dream about. It’s easy to see how hot you are. The entire world can see that, and I have to share your beauty with them. But you? What you feel like, how you sound?” His hand moves, and I moan again. “These are the secret things I wanted to know. Just me. Not the things about you that are shared with everyone. This is what I dream about. You.”

  I move to sit up, needing more of him, needing to feel his lips on mine. I love his words, but I need his body, him, more. I squeeze my legs around his hand.

  He rolls me on top of him. The pressure between my legs builds and builds from the world of sensations, the sweet words he’s whispering to me that I can no longer hear, until I can’t hold back any longer.

  I reach behind me and feel around for the condom. His eyes twinkle at me, studying me. “Do you want me?” I ask.

  He takes the wrapper and whispers, “You may never know how much.”

  “Show me,” I beg.

  And he does. This boy who’s never had a girlfriend, and has never had more than a one-night stand, touches me with more love than I’ve ever felt, or even read about in romance novels. When he slides himself into me, filling me, I wrap my legs and arms around him, never wanting to let him go. He barely moves, and I fall apart, coming around him while I kiss him. My body shudders and flutters under him. I run my hands from his shoulders, down over his back, pushing him into me. Then he says my name. My full name. And comes too.

  After, we lie on our sides next to each other, mirroring each other. Our heads under our hands. “I’ve never felt anything like you before.”

  He grins. “What do you mean?”

  I run my hand down the side of his body, over his hip. “I’ve never connected with someone so quickly. It’s not like I’m used to hopping into bed with guys after one or two dates. If you can call the dumpster, the shelter, and the hospital ‘dates.’”

  He reaches for me and pushes my hair back from my cheek. “I had a feeling we were meant to be. I had to wait for the right time.”

  “What would have happened if Meg never passed out? If you never bribed her for a date?” I’m afraid of his answer. I’m afraid he would have let me slip through his hands, not put the effort in to get to me, to get us here, to this moment.

  He grabs my chin and runs his thumb over my lips. “Something. Something would have happened because you and me….”

  “You and me, what?”

  “I don’t know.” He squints and purses his lips. “Just… you and me.”

  “I like you and me.”

  He reaches for my hip. “Me too.”

  “Not just in bed. I mean whether we’re naked or not naked.”

  He flashes his rock star grin. “You’re awesome dressed, but I’m kind of liking being naked with you.”

  “Me too.” I’m perfectly content stretched out next to Dave, but a thought makes me smile. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, beautiful.” For the first time since he’s called me it, I finally feel it. Beautiful.

  “Can you play me a song?”

  Dave

  I glance at her as she pulls the sheet around her chest and sits up on the bed. Her hair is wild, hanging over her shoulders. Her makeup smeared dark shadows under her eyes. She looks phenomenal, all flustered and flirty and female. “You’re here.” I whisper, trying to convince myself. I let my gaze wander down her body.

  She smiles then pinches me, sidling up next to me. “Yep.”

  Maggie wants a song, a song she shall have. I pull on my boxers and reach for my guitar. I’ve written ten or so songs. So far I’ve shared one with Maggie, the night of the bee sting. I shuffle through the song list in my head. More than a couple are Maggie love songs.

  She watches me tap my strings as I decide what to play. I choose a goofy song I wrote about squirrels. It’s inspired by Maggie, and I think it will make her laugh.

  I strum violently and loudly. My hair falls over my eyes as I head bang and belt out my ridiculous tune. I hear her laughing, snorting, and “oh my God”-ing.

  I’d composed it that hot summer day in late August—the time I first saw Maggie feeding the squirrel. People sped by, and I wondered why nobody was fascinated about the hot girl with the amazing body clicking her tongue under the tree. I thought maybe I was the only one who could see her, like she was a figment of my imagination.

  When she left, I took off toward the first class of my college career, my musical composition class, and composed the song about the squirrel. Lucky Squirrel, I called it. About the lucky squirrel who gets the attention of the hot girl, in a campus loaded with men who’d want her. Every day I returned to watch Maggie under the tree feeding the squirrel, and every day I was jealous of the little creature.

  Now she’s in my dorm room.

  When I finish the song, Maggie laughs and tackles me, wrapping her arms around my neck and squealing.

  The sheet slides away as she falls over me. With my arms full of her, her curves pressing against me, I smile against her lips.

  Now I’m the lucky squirrel.

  Chapter 13

  Maggie

  After my night with Dave, I wake up ready to tackle the world of New Jersey University. Invigorated, I jump out of bed, nearly scaring Megan to death, and find my way to a hot shower.

  The hallway is quiet as I creep back to room three. I high-five the mural of me that Chase painted on the wall across from our door. “Let’s do this,” I whisper to my image.

  Do what? All I want to do is run upstairs and crawl into bed with Second Floor Dave.

  The thought terrifies me.

  First, because I have a million things to do. Finals start in two weeks. I have to get my internship situated, and I owe hours at the shelter. I haven’t been to the library in days. Second, because any minute now, I expect I’ll have to deal with my mother. I can’t avoid her calls forever.

  She’s not going to be thrilled about Dave. She hated that I attached myself to Winston. She’s never needed men. I don’t either. I don’t need a man. I just really, really want one. One in particular. So sue me.

  When I return to our room after my shower, Meg is awake and pulling on her running sneakers. She jumps up when I shut the door. “How’d it go last night?”

  “Ah-may-zing.” I draw out the word. “I’m glad you shared your condom stash.”

  Her jaw drops. “You did it? What happened to ‘not jumping into the sack the moment you had access?’”

  “I know. It’s so bad, right?” I pray she doesn’t tell me it’s bad. “What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Don’t have any regrets. Well?”

  My smile sneaks out, even though I’m trying to be cool. “Better than I could ever imagine.”

  “Did he sing again?”

  “He did. Said he’s never sung to anyone but me.”

  She gasps and puts her hands over her athletic-tank-covered chest. “Oh my God, he totally does worship you.”

&n
bsp; I shrug. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “What about the dick rumor?” She stands and motions various sizes with her hands. “True or false.”

  “It’s perfectly fine.” She looks disappointed, but I’m not giving details. “But I have an issue.”

  “What’s up?”

  Sighing, I pull a dress from my closet and turn to face her. “Who knows what will happen after finals. He’s going to have his summer gigs, and I’m supposed to go to Olympia.” Throwing the dress on my bed, I cringe, hoping Meg didn’t notice the hitch in my voice.

  She shifts her weight as I reach for the straightening gel. Today feels like a straight hair day. “Maggie,” she whines, jutting out her hip and staring me down. “You better take it if you get it. Don’t you dare let Dave keep you in New York.”

  I guess she heard the hitch.

  “This is one area where I agree with your man-hating mother. I know you and how you feel about love, and—”

  “No ‘ands,’ Megan.” I plug in my hair dryer, waving it at her as I talk. “I’ll worry about Olympia when I hear back from them. For now, can you let me enjoy twinkle-eyed Dave? Who, by the way, you practically pushed me to with your blackmail pimping.”

  She scrunches her face. “I sort of did, didn’t I?”

  “You did. All your fault.” I lift my chin in the air, fluffing my wet hair to untangle it. “So glad you did though.”

  Meg smiles at me in the mirror. “Those eyes.”

  I sigh. “Those eyes.”

  When there’s a knock on the door, Meg’s face lights up. “That’s Ben.” I pull my robe tighter. Meg grabs her phone and plugs herself into her music. “I want more details later.”

  “Sure thing. Have fun being all athletic.” I’ll never understand why she loves running. She taps me on the ass and disappears into the hallway.

  I pull my giant round brush from my drawer and turn on the hair dryer to start the work of straightening my too long hair. As I pull and tug, the whir of the dryer puts me in a trance. Would I give up Olympia for Dave? I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t. Summer’s just a few months long. It’s not like we’re going to forget each other in a few weeks.