Lust (The Elite Seven #1)(14)

There are people rushing past me, their lives put together, their paths laid out and set, and here I am, a fucking mess.

The grounds appear to expand in size before me showing me just how little I matter.

My father’s words echo in my thoughts.

“I give him six months before he fucks up and gets kicked out. He’s a jock, Caroline, not college potential.”

Unlike every other father in history, mine hated that I played football. He didn’t want me wasting my brains by getting them knocked out of me on a field. It embarrassed him that I was into sports and not the family businesses.

“Football is for people who have no other choices.” He used to scoff at me as he spent my mother’s money and worked for a firm her father created and passed down to her.

Just as my lungs begin squeezing the life from them, a soft thud hits my back, and a female topples to the concrete beside me.

Paper rains down around her like confetti, and an “oomph” sounds from her lungs as a book lands on top of her chest with a thump.

Pride and Prejudice.





Jane Eyre.


“Christ,” she squeaks out, looking up at me with wide, clear eyes, a perfectly formed O on her full, thick lips.

“I’m so sorry,” she quickly says, rubbing her palms together before removing the book and picking up the paper, shoving it inside the pages.

Dropping to my haunches, I help collect her papers, my eyes roaming briefly over one.

It’s a flyer for a book club. Meetings on a Saturday. Who the fuck goes to book club on a Saturday?

“I honestly should look where I’m going. I’m clumsy, and was so engrossed in my book—then bang, whoosh. And now I’m sitting on the ground mumbling to the most prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.”

She laughs awkwardly, blushing a wild red and then covering her mouth to try to shove the words back inside.

I raise a brow, and her eyes expand behind red-framed glasses. “Did I say that out loud?”

A chuckle rumbles from my chest, and it’s then I realize she knocked my panic attack right out of me.

Blonde messy curls cascade down her shoulders, stopping at her tits hidden inside a blouse covered by a pink fluffy sweater. Creamy legs spill from underneath a black skirt that’s ridden up her thighs. Flat ballerina pumps finish her outfit. It’s cute, bookish, but with a hidden sultry vibe that comes from her peaches and cream skin, just enough on show to entice, but not enough to make her look slutty.

I move back up her body and catch her eyes watching me.

Large, oval blue eyes take up her heart-shaped face. They’re almost violet and dancing with curiosity. Her petite nose wrinkles, tugging up her full top lip.

“Hey,” she finally says, offering me her hand.

“Rhett Masters.” I take her small hand in mine and shake it.

A crease forms on her forehead. “From Garden Grove High School?” She poses it as a question, but recognition sparks in her blue eyes.

“I guess I’m not as unknown here as I thought.” I wink down at her, and she doesn’t do what every other female in my life has done.

She doesn’t melt.

Well, fuck me.





Getting to her feet, she dusts down her skirt, then hugs the book to her chest like a Rhett-proof vest.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sweetness.” I lay on the charm, swiping my tongue out to wet my lips. She watches the movement, and the rosy tint to her flesh spreads down her neck.

If I were to open her blouse, I bet it would be all the way down to her tits, making her nipples tingle.

“You played our football team last summer. It was a charity sports thing, otherwise I would have never attended.”

She wrinkles her nose again, but this time, in disgust, like she’s smelled something that offended her nostrils.

There’s something that changed her attitude from apologetic, almost flirty, to grievance. Maybe it’s Football, or rather a football player—me. Did we beat her team? We beat every team.

“And?” I coax. I played a lot of games and need her to elaborate on this one.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she pushes her glasses up her nose and looks at her toes.

“You hooked up with my best friend, then never called her.” She frowns gathering her pieces of paper from my hand and stuffing them with the rest.

I rub a hand through my hair, a soft shrug lifting my shoulder. It makes her flinch. It’s slight, but she’s uncomfortable, or even pissed, at my response.

“Not going to lie, sweetheart. I don’t do the whole calling thing, and I would have made that clear to your friend before I fucked her.”

A gasp whooshes from her, and she shakes her head, her petite, little nose wrinkling once more. It’s cute as fuck.

She’s like some sexy, innocent librarian type. It’s not what I’d usually go for, but there is no denying her beauty.

“I said hooked up, not…what you said.”

“Fucked,” I offer, just to see the flush of her skin.

She doesn’t let me down. Perfect.

I bet that’s the same color she turns after she comes. My thoughts turn to picturing her naked, and I wonder if the blonde curls are a theme for every part of her.

“She didn’t do that with you,” she snaps, demanding my focus.