“Okay,” he repeats, sweeping an arm in front of him. “Lead the way.”
I eye him skeptically for a beat before turning back toward Halston’s dorm. Jesse hooks an arm around my shoulder, smirking down at me when I shoot him a glare, even though my stomach flips at his nearness.
“So, where’s your real boyfriend?”
It takes me a minute to realize who he’s referring to. “Who, Dylan? We’re just friends.”
“Friends who see each other naked?” he asks casually, as if asking about the weather.
“And that’s any of your business, how?”
“I’m just making conversation,” he says innocently.
“I already told you I’m not having sex with you,” I remind him.
“You think about having sex with me often? You sure bring it up a lot.”
My cheeks heat and I stare ahead. Jesse’s not exactly hard up for female attention, but if he’s not trying to hook up, then what is he doing?
Once at the entrance of Manzanita Hall, I pull away, leaning my back against the brick building, one hand on the door handle. “Thanks for walking me.”
Jess snorts out a laugh. “You’re not going back to the party, are you?”
“Probably not,” I admit. “Halston won’t miss me. Trust me.”
Jesse nods, giving me one last once-over before turning to leave, but then I hear a rustling in the bushes that has my hand jerking out to snatch his wrist of its own volition. Jesse’s eyes are amused, giving a pointed look at where my fingers clutch his arm.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
Moving in slowly, he cages me in, bracing his right arm on the wall above my head, his left hand by my hip. He brings his lips close to my ear, and I fight the shiver that rolls through me. “It’s probably Sierra,” he says, his voice hushed and husky. I swallow hard, looking over his shoulder as he nuzzles closer. We both know it’s not Sierra. My pulse pounds in my ears as his mouth skims across my cheek, stopping at my parted lips. I don’t even know him. I should push him away. I should stop the charade. But instead, I find myself waiting for his next move.
“Is this convincing?” he asks. He’s so close that I can feel his breath on my lips, and I realize that I want him to close the distance. I want him to kiss me.
I give a slight shake of my head in response.
“No?” He smirks. His left hand leaves the wall to curl around my hip and presses his chest to mine. “How about this?”
“Almost,” I whisper. I wet my lips, and the tip of my tongue grazes his bottom lip. His expression goes from playful to heated in an instant, and then he closes the final distance. It’s soft at first, just a brush of his lips against mine, but then he’s cupping my face with both hands, tilting my head back as his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
My hands find his shirt, pulling him closer as his mouth fucks mine. Because that’s exactly what this is. This isn’t kissing. Or maybe it is, and I’ve been kissing the wrong boys.
Jesse groans, fitting a firm thigh between my legs, and the need bubbling inside me threatens to boil over at the sensation. All too soon, he pulls back, leaving me breathless.
“Convincing enough?” His words are playful, but the glazed look in his eyes tells me he’s just as affected as I am.
I try to find words, but before I do, we hear it again. The rustling. Both of our heads snap in the direction of the bush just in time to see a racoon dart out and run behind the building.
“Jesus!” I jump, before laughing, my forehead falling against Jesse’s chest as I calm my racing heart. Except, it’s not calming. It’s beating hard and fast for an entirely different reason. Slowly, I lift my gaze to Jesse’s. His jaw is set hard as he stares down at me, and I feel the thick ridge beneath his jeans. I bite down on my lip as my hips shift into his, seeking the friction. What the hell am I doing?
With that move, Jesse snaps, bending to grab the back of my thighs as he kisses me again. He moves toward the door, and I fumble, one-handed, to push it open behind me. He carries me past the empty common area toward the dorms, clearly knowing his way around.
“Room number.”
“One-oh-eight,” I say, barely getting the words out before his mouth is on mine again. When we reach the door, I slide down his body, digging into my jeans pocket for the spare key Halston gave me. I work fast, not wanting to give myself time to second-guess my very questionable decision to hook up with a guy I barely know in a room that isn’t even technically mine. But maybe Halston was right. Jesse Shepherd is a playboy. I won’t be in any danger of falling for him. Even in the highly unlikely event I did catch feelings, he’ll be two hours away at school by Monday.
Once I get the door open, Jesse grabs me by the ass, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he lifts me. Crossing my ankles behind his back, I toe off my sopping boots.
I sense him hesitating for a beat, staring at the two beds, trying to decide which one is mine. The answer is neither, but he chooses the one I’m using for the time being, probably guessing that pretty, pink princess-style bedding isn’t me. I don’t know why that thought appeases me. As if him knowing this small detail somehow justifies my willingness to sleep with a near stranger.