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Maybe if I wasn’t feeling so vulnerable at the moment, I would’ve been strong enough to push him away. But I’m weak and I feel defeated, and when he holds out his arms, I climb into his lap, bury my face against his chest, and allow him to comfort me.
His fingers thread through my hair, and I suddenly feel like a child again. My mom used to stroke my hair whenever I got upset. Sometimes my brother Nick did too, if I scraped a knee or bumped my head thanks to whatever daredevil stunt I’d attempted that day. I was a rambunctious kid. Hell, I’m a rambunctious adult.
The warmth of Fitz’s strong body seeps into me. I press my cheek to his collarbone and voice an embarrassed confession. “I have a learning disability.”
I give a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. “My brain doesn’t like the meds. Unfortunately, that means it’s up to me to focus my thoughts, and that’s really hard sometimes.”
“What can I do to help?” I jerk up in surprise. “What?”
His gaze is earnest, shining with sincerity. Not even a hint of pity there. “You’re having trouble with yo...
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He glances over again, oddly sheepish. “How about an exchange? I’ll help you with this midterm—the outline, the thesis. And, as you write it, I can proofread and help you organize ideas. And you help me out by…” He mumbles the rest—“Letting me draw you.”
This time it’s my eyebrows taking flight. “You want to draw me?” His head jerks in a nod. “Like one of your French girls?” Heat scorches my cheeks. Is he saying he wants to draw me naked?
“You’d be fully clothed,” he says. “I’d be basing a character in my game on you. Well, on your appearance. I’ve had a tough time figuring out what this woman looks like, and…” He shrugs awkwardly, and it’s insanely adorable. “I think she might look like you.”
My jaw falls open. “You want to base a video game character on me? That’s so cool. What’s her name?” “Anya.”
“Do we have a deal? I help you out, you let me sketch you?” “Yes,” I say immediately. It takes a second to realize that all traces of defeat and despair have left my body. I feel rejuvenated, and the gratitude filling my chest threatens to overflow. “Thank you, Fitz.”
Spending time with Summer is…a challenge. And that’s coming from me, a guy who plays hockey at the college level for a Division 1 school. I can honestly say that my grueling athletic career is a walk in the park compared to the sheer grit it takes maintaining a friendship with Summer Di Laurentis.
First off, it’s impossible for me to forget about the kiss we shared. Maybe she’s been able to put it out of her mind, but it sure as hell hasn’t left mine. Which means every time I’ve looked at her mouth these past few days, I’ve been reminded of how good it felt pressed against mine.
Second, I’m still attracted to her, so usually when I’m admiring that mouth, the fantasy doesn’t stop with a harmless kiss. Her lips and tongue have played a starring role in so many dirty fantasies that I’ve taken to jer...
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Third, jerking off to her every morning makes it hard to look her in the...
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And lastly, when you’re friends with Summer, she does things like waltz into your bedro...
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I wasn’t worried, and I hadn’t asked her to clarify what she meant by “taking care of it.” I regret not asking, because now it’s eight o’clock on Thursday night and Summer just dropped half a dozen garment bags on my bed and demanded I undress.
“Everything you own is either black or gray. What do you have against colors, Colin? Did red bully you as a child? Did green steal your girlfriend? Black, gray, gray, black, black, oh look! More black! This is insanity. I’m literally going insane looking at your closet.”
“Best friends?” I sputter with laughter. “I agreed to no such thing.” “If I decide something, then it’s the law.” She sticks out her tongue. “You have no say.”
“I’m sorry, did you say I’m right? As in, you’re wrong?”
She squeals loud enough to make me flinch. Man, that’s a seriously high pitch she’s got there. “You won’t regret this. This is going to be so much fun.” Clapping happily, she does a few spins,
I peel my T-shirt over my head. Summer’s green eyes widen. Appreciation heats her expression, and damned if that doesn’t inflate my ego like a helium balloon. It only gets bigger when she lets out a breathy noise that speaks directly to my dick.
“I love your tattoos,” she informs me. “Yeah?” “Uh-huh.” Her gaze is glued to my naked torso. Holy shit, if she keeps looking at me like that, I might not be able to stop myself from touching her.
It’s already been a Herculean effort for me to draw her every night without giving in to every carnal urge...
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My body weeps from the loss of contact when she withdraws her hand.
I swear Summer’s fingernails scrape my abdomen as she drags the shirt down. A shiver races up my spine. I’m turned on. Like, really turned on.
Shit, and now I have to take my pants off, and I’m wearing boxer-briefs that perfectly outline my cock. She’s totally going to notice.
Besides, if Hunter’s upset that Summer and I kissed, he can man up and talk to me about it.
Preach
He’s only tried one outfit.” She points at the Ford and Saint Laurent combo. “And he thinks…” She looks like she’s going to explode with laughter. “He thinks we’re done now.” I expect Hunter to give her a blank look. But my teammate snickers at me, obviously in on the joke.
“Go get Hollis. Tell him to make some popcorn.” “On it.” She’s already hurrying out the door, yelling, “Mike!” “Traitor,” I grumble at Hunter.
He merely grins. “You gave an heiress from Connecticut permission to dress you for an interview. You really think I’m going to miss this show?”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Yes, it’s gonna be a problem? What if I did say that? What then? Would we have to duel for Summer’s honor?
Summer would be proud that I remembered each designer’s name and can link it to his corresponding clothing item.
Four minutes? He literally just sat down. I wonder what it’s like to be SO IMPORTANT that you fly to Boston for a five-minute meeting before having to board the old company jet again.
Nate knocks him on the back of the head. “Cut it out with that nonsense. Just ’cause Fitzy met a billionaire today doesn’t make you a billionaire by association.”
She flashes me a wink and a smile, and my insides promptly melt like butter on a hot pan.
My mouth opens to voice a protest, but it’s too late. She’s already plopping onto my lap. Brenna’s eyes widen. She squeaks in surprise, and I curl my fingers around her hip and shoot her a warning look.
BRENNA: Please tell me that boner isn’t because of me! The sigh slips out. When she raises her eyebrow, I quickly type, No.
BRENNA: OK good. It was there before I sat down so I assumed it wasn’t me. Just making sure, though. You and I aren’t meant to be, sweet Fitzy. I’d eat you alive Ha. She’d eat any man alive.
ME: Chick sent me some nudes right before you got here. I’m a guy. Shit happens BRENNA: Think about Hollis. That always kills my desire I laugh out loud, causing everyone to look in my direction.
Brenna wads up a napkin and throws it at him. He catches it easily. “Hey, it’s a valid question.” She sighs. “It’s never a valid question when it comes from you.”
“Frat boys are the worst,” Brenna tells us as she raises her beer to her red-painted lips. “They have a sense of entitlement that really pisses me off. Even the poor ones.”
“Pink,” Hollis grumbles at her. “Just fucking say pink, Summer.” “There are different shades of pink, Mike.” “Yeah? Name ten.”
“Fine.” Like a pro, she starts listing hues. “Salmon, rose, blush, fuchsia, watermelon, flamingo, cerise, bubble gum, magenta—”
“Hey, sweetheart?” Brenna says to the blonde. “Your man is a fuckboy with a capital F. Drop him now before he hurts you worse.”
“First you’re mad because you think I tried to steal him from you. Now you’re pissed because I turned him down. Pick one injustice and commit, sweetie.”
“You wouldn’t know a good man if he walked up and smacked you in the face.” “Neither would you, apparently.” Hunter chuckles.
Just like that, I officially reach the maximum amount of slut I’m willing to hear. I shoot to my feet. “Enough with this slut bullshit,” I snap at her.
“Do you realize how many decades you set us back every time you call another girl a slut? We’ve spent years fighting to not be viewed as sexual objects or be judged and shamed if we happen to enjoy sex. It’s bad enough that men still do this to us. When you do it too, it sends the message that it’s fair game for women to be treated this way.”
“What the hell happened to girl power? Did you never listen to the Spice Girls?” I growl in her face. “What’s wrong with you?”
