The Score (Off-Campus, #3)

by Elle Kennedy

Either way, his ass is yummy. Damn it, everything ab...

I can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders fill out his long-sleeve Under Armour shirt or how his blond hair is the perfect amount of tousled.

Mmm broad shoulders

Then I lose him in the crowd, and I feel a flicker of relief because now that he’s out of sight, I have some time to get my raging hormones under control. The respite is brief, though. When he returns to the booth, he’s still as gorgeous as ever and I’m still a horny bundle of nerves.

He resettles in his seat just as the current song ends and the opening strains of Dean’s selection blare out of the speakers. It’s C...

I can’t stop a burst of laughter, which earns me a strange look from Fitzy. “Did I miss the punchline?” he asks. “Nope. Sometimes I just laugh for no reason...

I swallow another laugh and avoid Dean’s eyes as his song continues to play. I’m not surprised when my phone vibrates.

Him: I could’ve gone with something a lil more subtle. But why play games? I’m goddamn aching for you, Allie. Shit, he called me Allie. He means business.

I lift my head, and the intensity burning in his gaze makes my heart stutter, then propels it into a hard gallop. Dean is already insanely attractive to begin with, but when he’s turned on? He’s absolutely spectacular.

The reminder spurs me to my feet. “I’m really not feeling Cheap Trick tonight,” I say sweetly. “Think I’ll switch it up again.”

“Not mine,” I call back. “What’d you choose, then?” Dean asks suspiciously. “You’ll find out soon enough, my pretty.”

Three minutes later, the intro comes on, and a chorus of female whoops rings out through the bar. Dean glares at me. My song choice? Pink’s “U and UR Hand.”

LOL

Meg’s red hair whips past my face as she spins around. I do a spin too, because it gives me the opportunity to sneak a peek at Dean. He wears a resigned look, but there’s also a flicker of amusement there.

When we get to the part of the song where Pink—who is a goddess, by the way. A goddess—says “buh-bye” to the creep she’s singing to, I shoot Dean a saccharine smile and flutter my fingers in his direction.

The tip of his tongue touches his bottom lip as a slow grin curves his mouth. He gives a little wave in response. Well played, ...

I’m laughing and breathless from how much fun I’m having, and this time when I seek Dean out, he doesn’t look amused anymore. Oh crap. He’s aroused again.

His sultry eyes track every move I make. By the time the song ends, I’m burning up. Not from sweat or exertion, but from Dean’s gaze raking over me like flames licking through a hayfield.

I instinctively tense when the screen lights up. A quick glance at Dean reveals he’s got his hand under the table again. I bite my lip and stare at my phone. Don’t read it, I order myself.

I read it. Him: Next time you put on a show like that for me, you better fucking be naked.

Tonight, sleep eludes me. Dean’s sexts left me hot and bothered, and I spend the next hour tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable. But I’m not comfortable. My boobs are achy and my pussy is throbbing.

Every time I roll over, my nipples scrape the mattress and the innocent friction makes them ache even harder. This is Dean’s fault. Why did he have to text me all those dirty, dirty things?

A groan slides out. I roll over again, this time onto my side. Normally I like to sleep with a part of the blanket tucked between my thighs. Right now, having something jammed down there is an excruciating tease, and ...

the perfection that is Ryan Gosling.

Gross

No, like emeralds. Because his eyes are green now. Why are they green? In the darkness of my dorm room, I release a low, irritated curse. For fuck’s sake. Why is Dean crashing my fantasy?

“I like the idea of getting caught.” The groan escapes before I can corral it. Dean’s raspy confession isn’t part of the fantasy—it’s one hundred percent real life.

The night I’d asked him why he doesn’t have sex in his bedroom, his eyes had gone heavy-lidded, pure molten sex dripping from his voice as he’d drawled, “I like the idea of getting caught.”

Yep, Dean Di Laurentis gets off on the thought of someone catc...

And did he end the confession there? Of course not, because that would mean he hasn’t made it his mission in life to sexually torment me. Nope, he’d followed the first part with...

“You better come fast, baby.” Dean’s breath tickles my inner thigh. “Otherwise my teammates are gonna walk out of that locker room and see my face buried in your pussy.”

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” The pad of his finger grazes my opening. “Look how wet you are.” He pushes his finger inside me.

And then we hear it. Footsteps. Voices. Laughter. The players are coming out of the chute. Dean smiles wickedly. Then he plunges that hard dick inside me⁠— And I come so hard I forget how to breathe. I lie on my bed, gasping, trembling.

Stars flash behind my closed eyelids as the orgasm crashes through me in hot, pulsing waves. Oh my God. That was… It was… I don’t even have the words to describe it.

And the sad part? The orgasm that just ripped me to shreds wasn’t half as powerful as the o...

I can’t remember the last time I got this wet during a solo session. Think of how much wetter you’ll be if you fuck me again… Argh. I can practically hear Dean taunting me. Enticing me…

Another no-brainer, but it still doesn’t solve the Casual Sex conundrum. Really, though, if I stop to think about it, the only person dishing out any judgment here is me.

Will a fling with Dean make me a slut? He certainly doesn’t think so. Neither would my friends, although I certainly don’t plan on telling them about it if I choose to fling Dean. Which raises the question, why do I want to keep it a secret?

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I ponder that. The answer continues to stump me, but the idea of everyone knowing I’m screwing around with Dean still brings a rush of discomfort. Fine. It’ll have to remain a secret. Maybe tom...

Well…shit. Have I actually reached a decision? I’m already grabbing my phone, ...

I tap Dean’s name and enter one word in the message box: Okay. You’ve got to give the man credit—he knows exactly what I ...

Him: What changed your mind? What changed my mind… Insanity maybe? An unhealthy obsession with sex? His awesome dick? Me: Decided it was time to live the Life of Dean.

God, what am I doing? Maybe I have gone insane. There’s a long delay before his next message appears. A borderline-hysterical laugh pops out of my mouth after I read it. Him: I’ll bring the rope.

Yep, our sex date is still on like Donkey Kong. I haven’t changed my mind. In fact, I’m…God have mercy on my soul…anticipating it. I’m even bailing on my workout today to prepare for it.

We get the Brazilian out of the way first,

Aren't you supposed to wait a couple days after getting waxed to have sex??

I waltz out of the salon rocking fire-engine-red nail and toe polish, because I think Dean will get a kick out of seeing my bright-red nails scraping his washboard abs. I’d asked Tanya to make them shorter and rounder this time, so I don’t scratch the shit out of him again.

On the cab ride back to the dorm, I try to figure out whether I’m excited or disappointed in myself. I still can’t believe I caved in to Dean’s potent masculinity, but I can’t deny I’m eager to reacquaint myself with his magical penis.

Seems like there’s a morality tale in there somewhere, a nugget of wisdom that Sean would benefit from acquiring. Push your ex-girlfriend too hard and she sleeps with a manwhore.

I haven’t watched the show since the night Dean was over, and I’m startled to realize it’s not as much fun without him. I kind of enjoyed his running commentary and how every five minutes or so he’d pause the show to announce, “Allie-Cat, I have no fucking idea what’s going on!” It was…cute.

Oh brother. Did I really just use the word cute in conjunction with Dean? I jot down a mental note to never say that out loud. He’d probably accuse me of having a crush on him.

Footsteps thump in the hall, causing anticipation to rise in my chest. My heart does a silly, unwelcome flip when two knocks thud against my door. It’s a manly-sounding thump-thuuuump, and when I ...

His gaze travels to the television. “Oh shit, what did I miss? Did Marie-Thérèse manage to find a copy of Claude’s will?” “I don’t know. I started the episode about three minutes before you showed up.”

Kay, well, if you watch any more without me, shoot me a text to let me know what happens.”