I blink and realize with another wave of shock that Carter isn’t wearing any clothes. How did I miss that? He casually rests against the wall in a pair of white, torso-hugging briefs stamped with red and black roosters.
What.
The.
Hell?
I could seriously die right now. Someone needs to shoot me and put me out of my misery before this gets any worse.
Too late.
Logan stiffens beside me. And not in the way I was hoping for, either.
Before I have a chance to blast Carter into next week, he saunters into the room and plops himself down on the ugly, oversized recliner situated across from us. I hate that eyesore and opposed it being moved into the apartment.
I was overruled.
Unaware, or—more accurately—uncaring that I’m about to blow a gasket, Carter lifts his chin in Logan’s direction. “Hey, what’s up?”
I sputter in anger. Carter’s all nonchalant, as if he’s not strutting around practically naked and interrupting my date.
Poor Logan doesn’t know what to make of the situation.
“Ahhh…” he falters and stares wide-eyed as if Carter is a horrific traffic accident that he’s unable to rip his eyes away from.
I feel much the same way.
We’re talking bodies strewn across the pavement and several fatalities.
You can bet that once I get my hands on Carter, he’s going to be one of them.
Carter sits with his legs spread wide. Unfortunately, both Logan and I are treated to an excellent view of his rather impressive package.
Crap. Did I seriously just think that?
Logan averts his gaze and mutters from the side of his mouth, “Who is this guy and what’s he doing in your apartment?”
Wanting to downplay the situation, I wave a hand in Carter’s direction as if what’s happening is perfectly normal. “Oh…him?” I force out a chuckle. “He’s just one of my roommates.”
Logan’s brows skyrocket across his forehead as his eyes pop wide. Under different circumstances, the expression would be comical. Sadly, this is not one of those occasions. My prospects for the evening have officially tanked. A smirk settles around the corners of Carter’s lips as if he’s reached the same conclusion.
Grrrr.
Logan shoots me a confused look. “You live with a dude?”
I bite my lower lip, racking my brain for a plausible explanation that will smooth over the situation and get us back on track. But my mind remains blank. There’s nothing but crickets chirping up there.
“Actually, she lives with two dudes,” Carter unhelpfully supplies.
Logan’s face contorts with shock. “Is that true?”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I clear my now bone-dry throat. “Well, um, yes.”
“Are you two like,” Logan narrows his eyes and waggles a finger between us, “a thing? Because I’m not getting in the middle of some weird dating situation.”
“What? No!” I let loose a high-pitched, nervous giggle that sounds ridiculously loud in the stillness of the apartment and babble, “We’re not a thing! Not at all!”
I wait for Carter to jump in and open his big fat trap, but he remains quiet. I’m going to throttle him with my bare hands. It’s the only thought getting me through the moment.
“I live with my cousin,” I mutter. “And his friend.”
Logan flicks a skeptical look in Carter’s direction, but since he’s still reclining with his legs spread and his manhood proudly on display, my date quickly averts his eyes. “Please tell me this is your cousin,” Logan pleads.
“It’s not.” As soon as I mumble the words, I know that as promising as our evening started out, this is the end.
As if to confirm my silent musings, Logan shoots to his feet and whirls toward me. “Sorry, Daisy. Whatever you’ve got going on here is a little too complicated for me.” He straightens his shoulders.
Did I mention that Logan has amazing shoulders?
Broad and sculpted?
Yeah…
“I’m out,” Logan says.
The firm set of his jaw tells me that there’s no point in arguing.
Not sparing Carter another glance, Logan beelines for the door as if he’s just discovered that I’m a serial killer intent on making lampshades out of his hide. I don’t bother getting up to escort him out. Instead, I glare at Carter, who sits nonchalantly across from me.
Maybe if I focus my attention hard enough he’ll burst into flames.
No such luck.
The apartment door closes with a resounding thud.
Carter scratches his shadowed jaw. “Well, that was certainly odd. Why do you think he took off so quickly?” A smile hovers around the edges of his lips, and I grit my teeth. It takes everything I have inside not to grab the lamp on the end table and heave it in his direction.
“Yes,” I bite out. “Him leaving was definitely the odd part of the evening.” I tap my chin a few times. “Whereas you prancing around in your underwear with your cock on display was not.”
His shoulders tremble with silent mirth. He clears his throat and admonishes, “I hope you’re talking about the roosters and not—”
“What are you even doing here?” I snap. There’s only so much I can take before I totally lose it. And I’ve just approached the limit. I’ll never understand why Carter enjoys messing with me. It’s maddening.
“Umm, I live here.” He arches a brow as if I’m slow on the uptake. “Remember?”
“It would be impossible to forget.” I fold my arms across my chest and scowl. “Why aren’t you out with Noah?”
Noah is my cousin. He’s also Carter’s friend and teammate, which is how I got roped into this disastrous living situation in the first place.
Think about how awesome it’ll be, Daze. Senior year will be a blast.
Yeah…not so much.
Carter shrugs, looking perfectly at ease lounging around in his super-tight, leaving-absolutely-nothing-to-the-imagination undies. “Guess I wasn’t feeling it.”
I snort. Yeah, right. “Since when?”
I’ve known Carter for three years. When isn’t he up for a party or heading to the bars and dragging home a one-night stand?
All right, fine. There’s usually no dragging involved. Women flock to him in droves. His short dark hair, piercing gray eyes, and athletic build honed from years of playing football and lacrosse is college girl catnip. And the fact that he’s headed to the NFL only ups his hotness factor.
According to other girls.
Not me.
Carter takes a moment to study his blunt-tipped fingernails as if they’re extremely interesting. “Maybe I wanted to spend the evening at home, relaxing in my Calvin Kleins.” His gaze shifts toward mine.
A sizzle of unwanted energy zips through my body as they collide. I clench my teeth against the onslaught, desperate to ignore the sexual tug I feel for him. It’s been there, simmering in the background, since freshman year and has yet to wane. I’ve told myself repeatedly that it’s not a big deal to feel attracted to someone you’re barely able to tolerate. But secretly, it bothers me on a deep level because I don’t want to feel it. Carter annoys the hell out of me. My reaction to him is always instantaneous and visceral.
For the hundredth time, I curse my cousin, Noah. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be stuck sharing space with Carter. But there’s nothing that can be done about it now. I’m locked into the rental agreement and the academic school year has only begun. I’ve got eight long months ahead of me…
To not kill him.
With my bare hands.
We’ll see if I’m able to get through it.
I tap my foot against the polished wood floor and scowl. Humor flashes in his eyes as he unfolds himself from the chair and stands, stretching his arms overhead. All of his muscles ripple and tighten. My mouth dries, and I force my eyes away. It’s not quick enough, and I catch an eye-popping amount of chiseled strength.
Ugh. Why does
he have to be so good-looking?
Carter isn’t even my type—he’s really not—and a throbbing ache has already taken up residence in my lower region. It’s frustrating.
“I think I’ll get dressed,” he says.
My head snaps up. “What?”
He shrugs, a smirk hovering around the edges of his lips. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to head out after all.” The smirk broadens into a grin. “Looks like your plans fell through for the evening. Any interest in tagging along?”
This time, I don’t give it a second thought. I grab the television remote from the coffee table and hurtle it at his head.
Without breaking eye contact, he catches the sleek black controller in his hand. “I take it that’s a no?”
I growl in frustration as he drops the remote onto the recliner and retreats to his bedroom.
Goddamn it!
I knew he stayed here on purpose. He wasn’t tired or wanting to spend an evening at home chilling out. He was lying in wait, hanging around the apartment, ready to pounce. And I fell right into his trap.
I shake my head and bury my face in my hands.
Deep breaths, I tell myself. I need to take deep breaths, or I’m going to commit a felony and go to prison for second-degree murder.
I’m less than a month into this living arrangement, and already I know it’s going to be a long year.
The Breakup Plan
Chapter One
Gray
I lift the bottle of beer to my lips and take a swig while scouting the vicinity. It’s Saturday night and I’ve got my arm wrapped around a pretty girl who’s more than willing to spend a little quality naked-time with yours truly. I glance down at the strawberry blonde-haired chick who is busy pawing at me like a kitten. When our gazes meet, she flutters her lashes and makes a mewling noise.
Savannah is one of my go-to girls.
We have a strict no-strings attached policy.
I’m thinking about taking her up to my room when I catch a flash of dark hair from the corner of my eye. My head snaps in that direction and I’m surprised I don’t come away with whiplash.
My brows shoot up.
Well, I’ll be damned.
I never thought I’d live to see the day that Whitney Winters willingly graced one of our parties with her presence. I’m tempted to check and see if pigs are flying out of someone’s ass because that’s the only reasonable explanation.
I narrow my eyes, watching her while she’s unaware of my scrutiny. Whitney is hot as hell, with long hair that hits the middle of her back and espresso-colored eyes that dominate her face. She has a slim build, which I will fully admit is not my usual type. I like a girl with nice round titties. Whitney doesn’t have much of that going on.
I’ve never been able to figure out what it is about her that I find so damn attractive. And trust me, I’ve tried. More times than I care to admit. It’s aggravating as hell to be into a girl who wants nothing to do with you. It’s like having an itch I can never quite scratch. No matter how many chicks I fuck, I can’t evict this particular one from my brain.
“Gray?” Savannah purrs, trying to reclaim my interest. “Do you want to get out of here?” She walks her fingers up my chest.
“Huh?” I hate to say it, but I almost forgot she was there. That’s what Whitney does to me. I watch the dark-haired girl maneuver through the crowd. She’s yet to spot me. And when she does, it’s doubtful she’ll be dancing for joy.
More like the opposite.
I have no idea why that should turn me on, but it does. Everything around me falls away as I continue to watch her with undisguised interest.
“I asked if you wanted to get out of here,” she murmurs again, her voice laced with impatience. Savannah isn’t used to being ignored. She’s a girl who commands attention.
When I don’t immediately shoot back with an answer, the fingers that had been trailing over my chest settle under my chin and manually turn my face so that I have no other choice but to meet her eyes.
Seriously?
My forehead furrows.
I’m not into bossy chicks.
“Why don’t we take this little party upstairs for a while?” The sly look in her eyes reveals all the dirty tricks she’s got planned for me. I’ve been with Savannah enough times to know that she’ll make good on those silent promises.
The girl is an absolute beast in bed.
As piqued as my interest had been a few moments ago, I’m going to take a hard pass on what she’s offering. She thrusts out her lower lip in a sexy pout when I pry her hand away from my face.
My eyes dart to Whitney as she stops and takes in the chaos unfolding around her. People are drinking and dancing. The bar has been stocked and shots are being passed around. There’s a group in the corner playing beer pong and if the skunky scent permeating the air is any indication, there’s more than just alcohol being served. Clothing has yet to be shed, but it’s only a matter of time before that happens.
Whitney’s gaze continues to slide around the room until it collides with mine. That one look sends a bolt of electricity shooting through my body. Which is fucking ridiculous, but still…
That’s exactly what happens.
Every damn time.
Until I can figure out what it is about her that fascinates me, there’s no way I can move on. Been there, done that. Nothing works. Besides, quitting isn’t in my nature and I love a good challenge. And Whitney is nothing if not a challenge. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I was willing to throw in the towel when shit got tough. That thought is enough to have my lips bowing up at the corners.
Making a calculated move that’s sure to piss her off, I hold up my beer and tip it in her direction. The girl doesn’t disappoint, not that I thought she would. Whitney’s lips flatten as her glare morphs into a scowl. Instead of turning away, she continues to glower in my direction.
It’s like we’re engaged in a silent game of chicken from across the room. The longer she holds my eyes, refusing to back down, the more my cock stirs with interest.
Or challenge.
Take your pick.
My attraction for her is seriously perverse. Don’t think I’m not aware of it. I just don’t give a damn.
“Gray,” Savannah whines. “I’m bored. Let’s get out of here.”
There’s no way in hell that’s happening.
I lift the beer to my lips, draining it before shaking the empty bottle. “Hey, would you mind getting me another one of these?”
“Sure.” She nips the bottle from my fingers and disappears through the packed living room. Now that she’s gone, I consider my game plan. Before I can take off in Whitney’s direction, my friend and teammate, Collins O’Brien, sidles up to me with a couple of guys from the team.
We share a house off-campus. We’re notorious for hosting the most outrageous parties at Hillsdale. Although this year, I’m looking to take it down a notch. I’ve got enough shit going on with graduation and the draft in the spring. This upcoming season will be my final one playing defense for the school. Not only do we need to have a winning record, we need to bring home the Frozen Four Championship.
Goals. You gotta have them, baby. And I do.
It goes a little something like this—I crush the upcoming season, staying laser focused on hockey. I get snapped up in the first or second round of the draft, play in the pros for a solid decade, and rake in the money.
Sounds pretty sweet, right?
You bet your ass it does.
Right now, I’m so freaking close to making it happen that I can almost taste it. I spent the last decade focused on hockey and clawing my way to the NHL. When you have doctors tell you that you’ll never achieve your dreams, you dig deep and make those dreams a reality for the sole purpose of shoving their prognosis right down their egotistical throats while you tell them all to fuck off.
Not that you’ll hear it from me, but I’ve already attained the impossible by being out on the ice. I do
n’t like talking or thinking about the accident. It took years to work my way back to a place I’d always taken for granted. It’s almost amazing how life can change in the blink of an eye. It’s like playing a game of Chutes and Ladders. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next you’re sliding down a chute and back to square one.
I shake my head, needing to clear away those ugly memories.
I don’t make a habit of looking backwards.
Only forward.
Playing at Hillsdale is the sweet buttercream frosting on a triple chocolate cake.
And the NHL will be the fucking cherry on top.
A whole goddamn jar of them.
“Hey,” Collins says by way of greeting.
“What’s up?” I ask without taking my eyes off Whitney. It would be just my luck to lose her in this jam-packed crowd. I’ll be damned if I allow that to happen.
When he elbows me in the side, my gaze shoots in his direction. Once he has my attention, he grins and waggles his brows like the asshole that he is.
Obviously, the object of my interest has not gone unnoticed.
Great.
The last thing I need is an audience waiting with bated breath for me to crash and burn. Especially with this girl. She’s liable to wipe the floor with my ass before handing it back to me. Then I’d never hear the end of it from these jokers.
“Damn, but that girl is hot with a capital H,” Mike, a sophomore defensive player, says before lifting the beer to his lips and draining half of it. The way he looks Whitney up and down sets me on edge.
And it shouldn’t.
I’ve never cared enough about a chick to feel jealousy where one was concerned. Hell, I’ve boned a good number of the same girls as my teammates. Which is exactly why my number one rule is to wrap it up tight. God only knows what gets passed around.
“Yeah, that’s definitely one ass I’d like to tap.” Justin Tinley gyrates his hips like he’s in seventh grade and has no idea what he’s doing. “All night long.”
My jaw locks as I glare. “Shut the fuck up, Tinley.”
Justin glances at me in surprise and shrugs. “What?” he says, too clueless to understand why I’m jumping down his throat. “I’m just saying that I would do her.”
Just Friends Page 24