The Chase (Briar U, #1)

by Elle Kennedy

At least, I think he’s cute. He’s got a mop of brown hair and a really nice smile. Plus, what I assume is a hard, ripped, lickable body underneath his sweatshirt and cargo pants. God, I love athletes.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I warn them. “She’s in good hands,” McCarthy promises. “I’m a total gentleman.”

“He’s a virgin,” one of his teammates says. McCarthy nods solemnly. “I am.” Brenna narrows her eyes. “Are you actually?”

“Fuck no.” He smiles again, and oh man, he has dimples. This guy ...

“Yes, and before you start lecturing me about fraternizing with the enemy, don’t bother. I already got the speech from Brenna.” “This is unacceptable,” he growls. “You can’t party with the assholes who beat us tonight.”

Although a quick glance reveals that she’s not missing me at all. She’s giggling at something McCarthy is saying. Den of Satan, my ass. She’s enjoying herself.

This flirtation with Hunter is confusing. I liked kissing him, but I live with the guy now. And I also live with Fitz, who I’m still attracted to despite how badly I want to punch him in the dick.

On the other side of the room, Brenna looks mighty cozy in McCarthy’s lap. It’s obvious he’s super into her. He’s got an arm slung around her and a hand resting on her thigh as they peer at something on her phone.

I’ve glimpsed them kissing a few times since they sat down, and I’ve had to fight a smile each time. There’s no way I’m not rubbing this in her face later.

I’m not surprised to see Weston doing it, though—he always did enjoy his blow. So did most of the Roselawn hockey guys, for that matter. Dean once told me that coke and hockey players are synonymous, and now I’m wondering if any of the Briar guys dabble in it too. I hope not.

Same. It's so bad for you. No one should do it.

Connelly grins, and damned if that doesn’t make him even more attractive.

His expression becomes hopeful. “We can still fool around.” She throws her head back and laughs. “Sorry, big boy. That ship sailed when you practically threw me across the room because of my cooties.”

He stares at her, his tongue coming out to moisten the corner of his mouth. It’s extremely sexy. “You’d never sleep with a Harvard player.”

On her way to the door, Brenna flicks the pithiest of looks in Jake Connelly’s direction. His green eyes gleam with amusement as she disappears from the room.

But Hollis waves his hand dismissively. “Of course you’re staying over,” he tells her. “My bed is your bed.” Fitz snorts.

“Oh honey, I wouldn’t touch your bed with a ten-foot pole.” “Speaking of poles…” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Keep it in your pants, Michael.”

“Why does he need my mercy?” “Because he shaved his entire body for a woman and got stood up.” Fitz looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Oh, dear.” Brenna reaches across Fitz’s big body and pats Hollis on the arm. “My apologies, sweetie.”

This time Fitz reaches over, smacking Hollis on the back of the head. “Enough, dude. Even I’m starting to get skeeved out.”

“I think it’s time for bed.” Fitz’s low voice rumbles in my ear. He comes up behind me as I dance to a Whitesnake song from Hollis’ metal playlist. I was in the middle of a ponytail-swishing move, so my hair whips him in the face when I twirl around.

He doesn’t even flinch. Just plants one big hand on my arm to steady me before I topple over. “I’m not tired,” I inform him, shrugging his hand off.

Once again, I teeter on my feet. And once again, he grabs hold of me. Only this time, he takes it a step further. Before I can...

Fitz heaves me over his shoulder, and suddenly I’m staring at the back of his black T-shirt while my leg...

I kick him. “Put me down! Oh my God, Fitz!” “No.” I kick him again. Harder. “Put m...

“Seriously,” I growl. “Put me down.” “No.” His arm is like an iron vise around the backs of my thighs.

“I mean it! I’m not some toy you can fling around! I’m a human being, and I have rights!” All I get in response is a low chuckle.

I can’t believe he’s carrying me upstairs. Like I’m a six-year-old who’s past her bedtime and needs to be banished to her Hello Kitty bunk beds. Gritting my teeth, I slam one fist a...

We’re halfway up the stairs. I try a different route and pinch his deltoid muscles. When that fails, I go for the lats. He rears back as if he’d been sh...

“I will if you put me down.” I pinch him again, and again. He shrugs his back and shoulders to try to shake my fingers off him. “For fuck’s sa...

He reaches the top of the stairs and charges toward my bedroom, swearing the entire way because I won’t stop pinching his stupidly muscular back.

“When did you become the fun police?” I demand when he finally sets me down—a little rougher than necessary. My feet connect with the floor in a hard thud. “And what gives you the right to drag me upstairs?”

His brown eyes blaze at me. “You were three seconds from falling over and smashing your head on a piece of furniture. Probably...

“I’m dramatic?” he roars, and I’m momentarily amazed because I don’t think I’ve ever heard Fitz raise his voice. “You freaked out on me yesterday for no reason. You accused me of implying you can’t fucking read.”

“Because you were acting like a condescending asshole!” “And you were acting like a brat!” “And now you’re acting like my father!” “And you’re still acting like a brat!”

We stop and glare at each other. He’s visibly clenching his teeth. The cords of his neck are like overly tightened guitar strings. He looks like he might snap at any second. But after several beats...

“I’m sorry about last night, okay?” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to imply⁠—” “It’s fine,” I cut i...

“I’m serious. I don’t think you’re stupid.” That ...

Even now, when I’m mad and aggravated by him, his presence affects me. My heart is pounding. My knees feel wobbly. Tingles dance along my spine and settle between my legs.

When Fitz rakes his long fingers through his tousled hair, the tingles transform into a tight knot of need. He turns me on so badly. I want those fingers on my body.

I backpedal like my life depends on it, because Fitz isn’t allowed to know that I was interested in him, or that he hurt me. Telling him means admitting I’d heard every derisive word he’d spoken about me.

Dammit. Me and my stupid mouth. I really need to stop blurting out exactly what’s on my mind all the time.

It’s seven-thirty. On a Sunday. Which one of my roommates is making such a ruckus? I must know this in order to know who I’ll be murdering.

Fitz and Hunter appear in their respective doorways, sporting boxers and some serious bed head. All three of us gape when we notice whose room Brenna is exiting. She freezes like a forest animal that just heard a twig snap.

She meets my eyes and shakes her head in warning. “Not one word.” I don’t think I’m capable of words. My tongue is on the floor, rendering me speechless.

Brenna is doing the walk of shame out of Mike Hollis’ room? This is unfathomable to me. Hunter opens his mouth, but she silences him with a low growl. “Not. One. Word.”

Drawing on paper and painting on canvas is so ingrained in me that I can’t imagine ever relying solely on technology.

I’m sure eventually museums will display only digital screens instead of canvases, and maybe it makes me a dinosaur, but that notion is a real bummer to me.

Same

Every interaction she and I shared yesterday had been beyond awkward. And don’t get me started on the night before, when I had to fireman-carry her drunk ass upstairs.

Her drunk, very fine ass. I’m talking smoke show, unbelievably firm, mouthwateringly round, I-want-that-ass ass.

I liked you. I’ve been trying not to dwell on the three words she’d hurled my way. She’d been wasted when she said them, and I don’t put muc...