The Mistake (Off-Campus #2)(24)

His gaze rests on Ramona’s undeniably great ass. “I can live with that.”

Both Grace and Ramona nod in agreement when I suggest sitting separately. Ramona instantly links her arm through Dean’s and whispers something in his ear that makes him chuckle, and then they shuffle forward in the dark to look for seats.

Grace and I do the same. We find two empty spots halfway up the auditorium, right on the aisle, and once we’re settled, she slides closer to whisper, “Are you sure your friend is okay sitting with Ramona? Because she’s absolutely going to hit on him the whole time.”

Her lips are practically on my ear, and she smells incredible. I can’t name flowery scents to save my life, but hers is sweet and girly, and when she runs a hand through her hair, a whiff of it floats into my nostrils.

“Don’t worry. Dean can handle himself,” I whisper back with a grin.

We turn to the screen, which is showing a preview that instantly captivates Grace. It’s some shoot-em-up explosion porn with big stars and even bigger guns, and her excited expression makes me want to kiss her so f*cking bad. Her love for action movies is a major turn-on.

Before I can stop myself, I reach out and take her hand.

She jerks in surprise, then relaxes and looks over with a smile before refocusing her attention on the screen.

I still can’t figure her out. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t come off as naive. She gives off an innocent vibe, but she also seems incredibly secure with herself. She doesn’t barrage me with questions or flirt up a storm. Hell, she hasn’t even brought up the fact that I play hockey, which is usually the first thing chicks do when I’m around.

It’s crazy how I hardly know a thing about her, yet I had my face between her legs a couple days ago and—oh shit, now I’m thinking about her *.

Wonderful. And now I have a boner of monstrous proportions.

I clumsily shift in my seat, resisting the urge to slide my hand down my pants and do some discreet rearranging. Or maybe to slide my hand down her pants and give her a birthday present to remember.

I do neither. The sounds of crunching popcorn and crinkling candy wrappers echo all around us, a blatant reminder that we’re surrounded by people. I try to concentrate on the opening credits flashing on the screen, but ten minutes into the movie, and my boner’s still going strong.

How long does an erection have to last before it’s considered bad news? Three hours? Four? No way this movie is that long, right?

God, I f*cking hope not.





10




Grace


For the first time in forever, I’m not angry with Ramona for persuading me to go out on my birthday. I wanted to avoid all the fanfare by simply staying home, but she’d dangled Jason Statham under my nose like a little British carrot. We’ve been friends long enough that Ramona knows all my weaknesses—and exploits them at all costs.

But I owe her big for using Statham as a bargaining chip tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting next to Logan right now.

With that said, I’m still not sure how I feel about him. He didn’t make the best first impression when he raced out of my dorm that first night, but I can’t deny that his second impression was a screaming-orgasm success. So I guess he’s got a checkmark in both the pros and cons columns at the moment.

Make that two checkmarks in the pros department—because halfway through the movie, he kisses me.

Not a peck. Not a lingering caress of his lips. It’s a hot, tongue-tangling kiss that makes my heart pound harder and louder than the deafening explosions blasting from the screen. I lose myself in it, in him, in the skillful stroke of his tongue and the warmth of his hand as it curls around the side of my neck.

It isn’t until I hear chuckles from the guys on the other side of me that I remember where we are. I self-consciously pull away, and Logan’s heavy-lidded gaze rests on my mouth, which is wet and swollen from his kisses.

He leans in closer. “On a scale of one to ten, how much would you care if you missed a few minutes of the movie?”

I think it over. “Two?”

“Thank God.”

He tugs me to my feet. Since we’re on the aisle, we don’t have to shuffle past anyone, thus sparing ourselves and everyone around us that awful ‘scuse me, so sorry disruption that moviegoers hate. Still holding hands, we tiptoe down the steps. I spot Dean and Ramona’s heads near the front row, but neither of them notices us making our escape.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

All I get in response is a mischievous smile. He leads me down the dark corridor toward the auditorium doors, but rather than go through them, he veers left and turns the knob of a door I hadn’t even realized was there.

We’re in a closet. It’s pitch black and reeks of cleaning supplies, but suddenly Logan’s body presses up against me, and all I can smell is him. I gasp when his mouth covers mine, because I didn’t see the kiss coming. I can’t see anything actually. But I sure as hell can feel. The hard muscles of Logan’s chest straining beneath his long-sleeve shirt. The seductive coaxing of his tongue as it slips through my parted lips and fills my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck and eagerly return the kiss. In a heartbeat, he backs me into the wall, one muscular thigh thrusting between my legs. The unexpected contact triggers an instant jolt of arousal that spirals to my core.