The Mistake (Off-Campus, #2)

by Elle Kennedy

“I don’t make you nervous anymore, do I?” “No.” I’m lying. He absolutely makes me nervous. He’s John fucking Logan, one of the most popular guys at Briar. And I’m Grace fucking Ivers, ...

His gaze travels over me again, a hot, lingering perusal that crackles along my skin like an electric current. This time there’s n...

“Do you want me to go now?” His gruff voice startles me, and I realize I’ve been staring at him for almost a full minute without saying a single word.

My mouth is so dry I have to swallow a few times before answering. “No. I mean, you can stay if you want. We can watch something else, or⁠—”

I don’t get to finish that sentence, because he slides closer and touches my cheek, and my vocal cords freeze as my heart rate skyroc...

The pads of his fingers are calloused, a rough scrape against my skin, and he smells so good I feel light-headed when I inhal...

He lightly strokes my cheekbone and I have to stop myself from purring like an affection-starved cat. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to kiss you.” His blue eyes ...

My heartbeat is out of control. A fast drumbeat in my ears, a frantic hammering against my ribs. Oh my God. He wants to kiss me?

“Unless I misread the moment?” he prompts.

His laughter heats the air between us. “Is that a no to misreading the moment, or a no to me kissing you?” I’m miraculously able to produce an entire sentence in response. “I want you to kiss me.”

He’s still chuckling as he moves closer, stretching on his side beside me and gently nudging me onto my back. Every muscle in my body tenses with anticipation as he hovers over me, and when he rests one hand on my hip, I tremble hard enough for him to notice.

A smile curves his lips. Lips that are getting closer and closer to my lips. Inches away. Millimeters away. And then his mouth brushes mine,...

His mouth is warm, his lips firm as he kisses me. Gently at first. A soft, sensual tease that makes me whimper. He licks my bottom lip, nips lightly at it before the tip of his tongue touches the seam of my lips. He tastes like candy, and for some reason that makes me whimper again.

When his tongue finally slides inside my mouth, he lets out a raspy groan that vibrates through me and settles in my core. Kissing Logan is the single most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.

Our tongues meet, and he makes another low, husky sound, gliding one hand up my body to cup my left breast. Oh shit. Boob groping alert. I thought we were just going to make out, but now we’re fooling around.

I’m not wearing a bra under my tank top, so when his thumb brushes the very thin fabric and presses down on my nipple, it sends a bolt of heat from the tips of my breasts right down to my clit. My entire body is hot and achy, tight with excitement.

Logan’s tongue explores my mouth as he rubs my distended nipple, his hips moving slightly against my hip. His erection is like a hot brand on the side of my thigh, and I’m unbelievably ...

Breathing heavily, he wrenches our mouths apart. “Should I be worried that your roommate ...

Logan shuts me up with another kiss. “No would have sufficed,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he reaches for my hand and places it directly on the hard bulge in his pants. In the same breath, he cups my pussy over my PJs. Oh crap. Downstairs action alert.

I’m not worried about my response to his hand—one slow glide of his palm is all it takes for a burst of pleasure to erupt inside me. Nope, it’s my hand that triggers the rush of nervousness. The hand that’s currently stroking the erection straining behind Logan’s zipper.

I’ve given handjobs before, plus a few blowjobs that I know were a huge success because…well, semen and all that. But I don’t have enough experience to consider myself an expert penis-wrangler or anything. And all those past penis encounters involved one g...

“Is this okay?” he asks as he strokes between my legs. I nod and stroke him again, and a tortured moan slips out of his mouth.

“Fuck, hold on.” He shifts on the mattress, and my heart stops when he unzips his pants. He eases them down just low enough to free his erection from his boxers, then tugs on the waistbands of my PJs and underwear.

A second later, his hand grazes my bare sex, and my hips lift involuntarily, seeking closer contact. Logan teases the tip of his index finger over my clit. “...

So much better. And so good it makes my head spin, limiting my response to a bre...

Smiling at my incoherent answer, he leans in and kisses me again. With his free hand, he grasps my right hand and brings it to his erection, gently wrapping my trembling fingers around the shaft. He’s long and hard, h...

My body is on fire. Waves of arousal swell in my core, and when he pushes his middle finger inside me, my inner muscles clamp around it, the pres...

don’t stop kissing. Not even to come up for air. We’re both panting, our tongues tangling and our hands hard at work. His thumb presses on my clit as his finger moves inside me, and the pleasure spiraling through me gathers in strength, a tight knot of anticipa...

His eyes are closed, his features taut and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I’m gonna come,” he mumbles. Excitement ripples between my legs, and I know he can feel how wet I am because he groans again and his finger plunges deeper, faster.

A few seconds later, he sags into me, his forehead resting on my shoulder as his hips flex forward one last time before going still.

As wetness spurts onto my hand, his eyes slowly open and the sleepy pleasure swimming in them takes my breath away. Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier than the s...

But I’m too embarrassed to admit I didn’t finish, and since he already did, I feel awkward asking him to keep going.

Girl, no. ASK HIM TO KEEP GOING.

Leaving Grace’s room five seconds after she’d jerked me off had been such an asshole move. I know that. But I had to get out of there. The second I’d recovered from that orgasm, my first thought had been, what the hell am I doing here? Seriously.

I mean, yeah, Grace was awesome, and sexy, and funny, but have I sunk so low that I’m now randomly finger-banging chicks I don’t even know? And I can’t even use alcohol as an excuse this time because I was stone-cold sober.

And the worst part? She didn’t even fucking come. I clench my teeth at the reminder. There’d been a lot of moaning, sure, but I’m ninety-nine percent certain that she didn’t hav...

Because when a woman drops a noncommittal “Uh-huh” after you ask if she had an orgasm,...

And that half-assed “yeah, sure, me too” she gave me about whether she had fun? Talk about bruising a guy’s ego. Not only did she not come, but ...

I don’t know how I feel about that. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I don’t live in a magical bubble where orgasms fall from the sky and land in a woman’s bed every tim...

But I’m fairly confident I speak for most guys when I say that I like to think they don’t fake it with me. Damn it. I should’ve gotten her numbe...

And will probably never see her again because I’m a selfish lover and bad company, apparently.

He’s right. I’m sure there are lots of teams that would want me to play for them. I’m sure one of them would’ve even drafted me—if I’d entered the draft. But Garrett doesn’t know that. He thinks I’ve been passed over these past two years, and—have I mentioned what an asshole friend I am?—I’ve been letting him think it.

Surprise parties, gag gifts, forcing waiters to sing in restaurants…she’s all about inflicting the greatest amount of torture possible.

I would HATE this

“Has a girl ever faked an orgasm with you?” I blurt out. It’s eight o’clock on Monday morning, and I nervously tap my fingers on the kitchen counter as I look at my roommate.

I love that he's still freaking out over this

Dean, who was on his way to the fridge, stops in his tracks so abruptly that if he’d been on skates, I would be wiping ice shavings off my face right now. “I’m sorry, didn’t hear you. What was that?”

His expression is the epitome of innocence, so it’s not until after I repeat myself that I realize I’m being played. Dean doubles over, honest-to-God tears streaming...

“I totally heard you the first time,” he croaks. “I just wanted to hear you ask it again…oh shit…I think I might piss myself…” Another howl rips out of his t...

Dean opens the fridge and grabs a carton of OJ, still chuckling to himself. “This is priceless. Big stud on campus couldn’t make a girl come. You’ve officially given me enough ammo to rag on you for years.”

And why the hell am I even still obsessing about this? All weekend I’ve fought the temptation to see Grace. I forced myself to study for exams. I played a six-hour Ice Pro marathon with Tuck. I even cleaned my room and did laundry.

I’ve got moves, damn it. Women know that when they hook up with John Logan, they’re going to leave with a satisfied smile on their faces, and it drives me crazy thinking that Grace might’ve been unsatisfied. It’s been gnawing at me for days. Days, damn it.

Leaving a girl wanting isn’t just embarrassing. It’s unacceptable.

good boy