The Frathole (Peach State Fratbros, #2)

by Devon McCormack

I take a breath, accepting this isn’t gonna be an easy job, but someone’s gotta do it. “You’re gonna kiss me.”

The move sends a surge of adrenaline through me, and before I know it, my dick’s getting kind of hard. That’s wild, but now I’m curious when the shit-kissing part is gonna start, so I grab the back of his head, keeping him close as our tongues meet. There’s something very intuitive about his movements, how his tongue teases mine, which shocks the hell out of me, considering I’ve seen this guy trying to dance. Where the hell is this coming from? And what was that bullshit about being terrible at this?

My gaze is drawn to his crotch, where he sports a— “Mart, what the hell is that?” “Oh fuck,” he says, sitting up quickly. “Nothing.” “That’s a lot of inches of nothing.”

“Where do you keep that concealed weapon? I’ve seen you in a fucking G-string.”

I’m not sure what the hell he’s doing, and I don’t really care so long as he keeps on kissing me.

Seriously? It’s been less than twelve hours since he made out with a guy, and now he’s already hitting on Dax in front of me? I clench my fist, tightening my grip on the spatula.