He drinks me in with a fondling gaze, undressing me with those blue cellophane eyes. He's rounding out all the bases mentally - he's already bent me over home plate, I can tell.
"You know, Questions," I say, "Coke or Pepsi, male or female - in or out ." I'm not sure if peppering the conversation with innuendo is the best idea, although it's most likely his native language. I look past him at the crowd, trying to distract myself from the fact he's even more alarmingly handsome up close than he was clear across the room.
"In or out?" He says, seductively. "Definitely in, and for sure, female." He gives it in a heated whisper just over my ear and rips a fire through my insides, awakening something in me on a primal level. His voice resonates above the raucous music, and my eyes close involuntarily at the quasi proposition.
Shit. I startle to my senses and scan the room for the simpleton I might be moved to strangle once I locate. It's my first day here at Garrison, and I've landed at some frat party hosted by my mom's best friend's son, at Alpha Sigma Phi, with my luggage sitting in the corner still fresh from the airport.
The Adonis pushes out a smile, and a pair of deep-set dimples go off, rendering me defenseless.
Honest to God, I'm about five minutes from pulling Mr. Coke or Pepsi into the corner and raking my body against his. Not that I've ever done that before, nor have I ever been motivated to do so. But after a long travel day, and a four-hour layover in five-inch heels, spontaneous sex doesn't sound so bad.
"Cruise Elton." He shoves his hand at me as if we were about to conduct business, and something in me softens to him. His glacial eyes burn into mine. He's watching me, drilling his watery pools through all of the formidable layers I hide beneath. He's inspecting me for the truth, for the underpinnings of who I really am. I bet he's embroiled in deep philosophical questions like do I know how to properly utilize my tongue and whether or not I have a piercing that could pleasure him into an erotic nirvana.
"Kendall Jordan," I yell over the music, taking up his warm, thick fingers. He feels safe, reliable, and something stirs in me when we touch.
"Nice to meet you Kenny." He gives a wicked grin and swivels his hips into mine. He's still acting like the playboy he's been for the last hour, but something in his eyes tempers when he says my name, albeit incorrectly.
"It's Kendall," I repeat, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles, memorizing how he feels before letting go. I wish I were one of "those" girls. If I were ever going to be one, tonight would be the night.
"You look more like a Kenny to me. Cute and sporty." He plucks off his baseball cap revealing dark blond waves before settling it over his head again. His shirt rises over his tan stomach, offering me a glimpse of rippling muscles, solid as granite, and I resist the urge to run my fingers over him like some erotic form of Brail.
I don't know what he wants from me. At least six girls stood ready to commit an entire slew of indecent acts with him right here in the commons room with total disregard to the bodies crammed into this place. I'm still in the awkward glances phase when it comes to guys. For sure I haven't graduated to one-night stands at frat parties.
I grind my heel into the floor. Perhaps it was my sexy stilettos that inspired him to slither on over.
"You go to Garrison?" He takes a swig from his soda. Odd that it's not a beer but a refreshing change of pace. On second thought, he's probably got it locked and loaded with an eighty-proof fuel enhancer.
"Just transferred in." I turn in an effort to shut down the prospect of evoking an erection out of him, but he's quick to jump back in my line of vision. "Look..." I sigh. "I'm actually engaged to Pennington." Sadly, I've resorted to playing fast and loose with the truth in hopes he'll find someone else to sexually assault for the evening.
He nearly chokes on his drink. "Really?" His face ignites in an ear-to-ear grin like he knows I'm lying.
"Really. Our mother's arranged the whole thing when we were like twelve." I leave out the part about meeting Pen