The Score (Off-Campus Book 3)

My mother was a beautiful woman. I’m not saying this because I’m her daughter and therefore saw her through rose-colored lenses. I’m saying it because it’s true—Eva Hayes was a beautiful, stunning, exquisite woman. She modeled when she was in her twenties, and though she wasn’t tall enough for runway work, she was a high commodity in the print market. I still have every catalogue and magazine spread she ever did in a scrapbook I keep on my bookshelf.

I inherited her blond hair and blue eyes, but my features aren’t flawless like hers. Mom had one of those classically beautiful faces that would make men, women and children stop and stare whenever she walked by.

Me, I’m more cute than beautiful.

But I’ve learned that the right makeup and the right clothes can transform any girl from cute to sex bomb.

I don’t know what my plan is. Dean and I aren’t dating, first off. And since I don’t want anyone to know we’re fooling around, I can’t storm into Malone’s and dump a pitcher of beer over his head.

What I can do is show him exactly what he’s giving up.

I won’t lie—it hurts that he didn’t give me advance warning like he’d promised. And it definitely stings that he’s with someone else tonight when I would’ve been happy to keep flinging with him. But I knew going into this who I was getting involved with. Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis sleeps around. The End.

My ego, however, refuses to stand for this, which is why thirty minutes later I find myself sliding out the backseat of a taxi and stepping onto the curb in front of Malone’s.

My peacoat keeps me toasty as I linger near the door debating my plan of action. A couple of college guys pop out of the bar, and I’m gratified when both of them stop to check me out. Ha. And their appreciative gazes are based solely on my makeup and fuck-me-silly updo. They’d probably be salivating if they saw what was underneath my coat.

I reach for my phone. Here, I tell Hannah. Where r u?

Her: Pool table.

Taking a breath, I walk inside and make my way through the crowd. The music vibrates in the floor beneath my heels as I pass the booths on the left and head toward the archway where the main room opens onto the game room.

There are half a dozen more booths and tall standing tables in this section of the bar. I instantly spot my best friend. She’s talking to Logan and Hollis, while Garrett circles one of the green-felt tables with a pool cue in his hand. Holding a beer bottle, Fitzy is watching Garrett line up a shot, his own cue resting on the wall beside him.

I finally catch a glimpse of Dean. He’s almost hidden from view in the corner, talking to a curvy brunette in skinny jeans and a low-cut sweater.

Nice sweater, sweetie, but I can beat that.

I unbutton my coat, slip it off, and tuck it under my arm. Then I square my shoulders and saunter up to the pool table.

A wolf whistle slices through the music, courtesy of Logan. “Je-sus,” he marvels at me. “You look bangin’.” His blue eyes twinkle. “What’s the occasion?”

I smile demurely. “Just felt like looking pretty.”

Hannah snorts. “Babe, you look more than pretty. I think every dude in this bar just sprung a boner.”

I shrug. I only care about one boner in particular. I wonder if Little Dean has noticed me yet.

“So you won the game, huh?” I say to Logan.

“Damn right we did.”

“Nice. You guys are back on track, then.” I know Big Dean was upset about their three-game losing streak.

“Yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself. We were up against a Division II team. And even then we barely squeaked out the W.”

“Yo, Logan!” Garrett shouts. “Think I can make this shot?”

“’Scuse me, ladies. My supreme billiards skills and best friend services are required.” He wanders off.

Hannah leans in closer. “So. Does this mean you’re ready to dip your toe in the dating pool again?” Grinning, she gestures to my outfit, which, if I’m being honest, doesn’t really say “I want to date.”

It says DTF.

My royal-blue bandage dress stops at about mid-thigh. I wore a push-up bra, so my cleavage is out to there. My smoky eye shadow makes my eyes look huge. My five-inch stilettos make my legs look impossibly long. Sure, they nearly froze off during the walk from the cab to the bar, but the quest for hotness sometimes requires a sacrifice. That’s Beauty 101.

“Naah, I’m just testing the waters.”

Her smile widens. “Well, consider this test aced. I’d do you.”

I tense abruptly, feeling Dean approach before he even sidles up to me. “Looking good, baby doll,” he says lightly.

But I hear the edge in his voice, and his displeasure is unmistakable. Which is preposterous because what does he have to be peeved about? I’m not the one who was making out with someone else.

“Thanks. Who’s your friend?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster.

His expression goes blank. “Huh?”

I nod toward the brunette, who’s inspecting us with visible suspicion. I can’t believe Dean has the gall to act like he doesn’t know her. I just saw them talking.

“Oh,” he answers. “Polly? Paula? I didn’t catch her name.”

Of course he didn’t.

“Penelope,” Hannah supplies. “I sat next to her during the game. She’s a massive Dean fan. Talked my ear off about you the whole time.” My best friend smirks. “I finally had to interrupt and tell her you don’t live up to the hype.”

I second that.

“Bullshit. I’m better than the hype.” Even as he protests, he sounds distracted. I can feel him staring at me.

“I’m going to get a drink.” I push away from the table.

“Great idea,” Dean says in an overly cheerful voice. “I could use one too.”

I clench my teeth as he follows me. It’s damn hard to run in these heels, so I settle for a speed-walk and hope I lose him in the crowd.

God, it was a stupid idea to come out tonight. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. If anything, I’m even tenser and angrier than I was before.

A squeak flies out of my mouth when I’m suddenly tugged backward.

Dean’s lips brush my ear as he growls, “If you came here to tease me, it’s working.”

My jaw stiffens. I spin around and level him with a glare. “Contrary to what you believe, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” Except he’s right. That is why I came, and now I feel totally and utterly foolish, because I’m not the kind of girl who plays games.

I should have stayed home. Rehearsal had left me in a bad mood, and then I let the thought of Dean with someone else turn me into a character from a rom com. Dressing up like a harlot to get some undeserving guy’s attention? Who am I?

My self-disgust spurs me to keep walking. I approach the counter, where the throng of men there parts for me like the Red Sea. I guess that’s one benefit of looking like sex on stilettos.

I order a Cosmo, because why not? I might as well live up to the image I’ve created. I brought a little black clutch with me, but when I open it to get some money, three different hands brandishing twenty-dollar bills fly up in the air.

“I got this—”

“It’s on me—”

“Let me buy you a drink—”

Dean rumbles out an annoyed sound. The next thing I know, he’s yanking out his own twenty and shoving it at the bartender. “On me,” he says sharply. He glares at my other suitors, who all avert their gazes.

“Are you going to pee on me now to mark your territory?” I hiss at him.

His eyes flash. “I don’t know—should I? What the hell is going on here, Allie?”

“Nothing.” I take the drink the bartender hands me and swiftly duck away from the counter.

Dean stays hot on my heels, so I walk faster, and then we’re with our friends again and I breathe in relief. Good. Now he can’t pester me for answers anymore.

Penelope immediately rushes over, and my spine stiffens when she latches her talons onto Dean’s bare forearm. The black T-shirt he’s wearing stretches across his perfect chest and shows off his perfect arms. The same arms that were pinning me down the other night when he was moving inside me.

I swallow a mouthful of my drink and try to pay attention to Hannah. She’s talking about her showcase rehearsals and how happy she is that the faculty is letting her sing an original composition instead of pairing her up with a songwriting major.

“I’m thinking of sending out some demos to labels,” she admits.

“Really?” She mentioned a few months ago that she might want to focus more on songwriting than performing, but I hadn’t realized it was a serious consideration on her part.

“Yeah.” She toys with a strand of dark hair, which draws my attention to the neon-green clip holding it back. It’s the only splash of color in her all-black getup. “I love composing. I mean, I also love being on stage, but Dexter and I were fooling around on the piano at rehearsal last night, and when he sang one of the songs I was working on, it was…”

I tune her out. I’m an awful friend, I know, but I can’t help it. I’m far too distracted by the evil vulture that’s pecking at Dean like he’s a juicy carcass. Running her manicured fingers up and down his arm. Stroking his biceps. Leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

In his defense, he doesn’t appear to notice that Penelope is glued to his side. His gaze is fixed on me, and it’s growing cloudier by the second.

I sip my drink and spend the next hour making an effort to be social. But I’m just getting increasingly angry—at myself.

I inadvertently cast Dean in a role that he shouldn’t be playing. He’s not my boyfriend. I shouldn’t be texting him after I have a bad day. I shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t text back, or that he’s talking to another girl.

Though, again, in his defense, he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in Penelope. Every time I sneak a peek at them, he’s on his phone and not paying her a lick of attention.

My clutch keeps buzzing, which tells me he’s most likely texting me. But my phone stays in my purse because I’m too busy dealing with the realization that apparently I’m helpless without a boyfriend.

I’m…co-dependent? Is that the right word? And is that why I kept getting back together with Sean? Because I can’t be alone? I had a boyfriend the entire time I was in high school too…

Okay. I might be making a mountain out of a molehill right now. Just because I’ve always had a boyfriend doesn’t mean I’ve got issues, right? I like having a boyfriend. I like holding hands and kissing and snuggling and telling each other about our days. That doesn’t mean I need one at all times.

Maybe I just suck at flings. I’m sure plenty of other women have problems separating emotions from sex.

Still, this is all very disheartening. I decide it’s time to go. I’m not paying attention to a word anyone is saying, and now I kind of want to go home and Google “co-dependency” to see if I can self-diagnose myself.

I do want to pee first, though, so I excuse myself and walk toward the restrooms. I don’t bother turning around to see if Dean is following me, because I know he is. I caught a glimpse of him in my periphery, disentangling himself from Penelope the moment I moved away from the table.

To my frustration, the line for the ladies’ room is unacceptably long. Nope, I’m not waiting thirty minutes to use the toilet. I don’t have to go that bad. But I know if I turn around, I’ll probably bump into Dean.

I keep walking straight ahead toward the emergency exit. I’ve used it before, so I don’t expect an alarm to go off, and it doesn’t. Cold air hits my bare arms and legs when I step into the alley behind Malone’s. I hurriedly put on my coat just as the door flies open and Dean emerges.

“Go away,” I tell him.

His nostrils flare. “No.”

“Fine, then stay out here. I’m going home.” I fumble with the clasp of my clutch. I need to call a cab and tell Hannah I’m leaving. Dean snatches the purse from my hand, summoning an irritated expletive. “Can I please I have my purse back?” I demand.

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re pissed at me.”

I don’t answer.

“Stop acting like a brat and fucking talk to me,” he orders.

“Why don’t you go find Penelope?” I suggest. “I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you. If you’re lucky, she might even stick her tongue down your throat again.”

He’s momentarily startled. Then he starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of Penelope?”

“I’m not jealous,” I answer coolly. “I just don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Dean’s jaw falls open. “When did I lie to you?”

My cheeks heat up. Damn it. Damn him. And damn me for giving him the power to make me feel so…so…God, I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.

“You promised to let me know if you were going to hook up with someone else,” I accuse.

“I didn’t hook up with her.”

“Hannah said you were kissing her.”

“No, she was kissing me. Or trying to, at least. I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“You did?” Some of my indignation falters, but I force myself not to soften. It doesn’t matter what Dean did or didn’t do. I still allowed this fling to veer in a direction I’m not comfortable with, and now it’s time to get back on the right path.

“Yes, I did,” he retorts, “because contrary to what you believe, I’m a man of my word. I told you I wouldn’t screw around with anyone else.”

“Fine. I believe you.” I swallow. “Can I go now?” I try to grab my purse but he keeps it out of my reach.

“You’re still pissed,” he says flatly.

“I’m not.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, baby doll,” he snaps.

“Are you saying your she-kissed-me story is bullshit?” I snap back.

“No, what I’m saying is—” He spits out a frazzled curse. Then exhales slowly. “I’m saying you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. And FYI? If anyone should be pissed right now, it’s me.”

My jaw drops. “How so?”

“I’ve been getting shit for two days thanks to your Houdini act in the bathtub,” Dean says darkly. “I found a bottle of lube under my pillow last night with a note from Garrett saying ‘For your ass’. Logan bought a carton of pink lemonade and keeps giving me a thumbs up every time he drinks a glass. Grace can’t look me in the eye without giggling. And now I’m getting shit from you, and you won’t even do me the courtesy of telling me why?”

“I’m…I’m…argh, I’m done with this.” The words burst out before I can stop them. “We’re not flinging anymore, okay? It’s done.”

Dean’s shoulders set in a severe line. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“And I don’t get a say in it?”

“No.”

“Bullshit,” he says again. “You can’t just call it off without giving me a good reason.”

A powerless feeling rises in my throat, because I don’t have a good reason.

“I had a bad day and you were the first person I called.”

That sounds insane if I say it out loud. But I know myself. I can feel myself falling into the boyfriend bear-trap, and I need to step out of it before the damn thing snaps shut and mangles my poor helpless heart.

“Are you telling me you’re not attracted to me anymore? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it. You know I am. But—”

“But nothing.” He edges closer, and my breath gets trapped in my lungs. His eyes are on fire, his chiseled features twisted in a feral look. I’ve never seen Dean angry before. It’s hot as hell. “How about we recap what happened tonight? How does that sound?”

Before I can blink, I’m against the brick wall, and his mouth is inches from mine. We’re half hidden between a stack of milk crates and a dumpster that is blessedly empty. Not that it matters, because even if it were overflowing with garbage, I still wouldn’t be able to smell anything other than Dean’s spicy, masculine scent. Every time I inhale, the addictive fragrance makes my brain foggier and foggier.

“You heard I was at the bar with another chick, and you got jealous. How am I doing so far?”

I clench my jaw.

“Then you freaked out because you got jealous, right? Am I still nailing this?” When I don’t answer, he locks my chin in his hand. “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours? You think this means you’re going to fall for me? That because you want me all to yourself, it means we’re on the track to marriage and babies?”

His mocking tone grates. “Don’t be an ass.”

He ignores me. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything, baby doll. So you were jealous. Big deal. Do you know how fucking jealous I am right now? Do you think I like seeing every guy in the bar drooling over your tits and shoving their hands in their pockets to rearrange the stiffys you gave them showing up in that getup? I want to rip their eyes out just for looking at you.”

My surprised gaze rises to his.

“No lie,” he tells me. “But do you see me freaking out about it? No, because it doesn’t mean a damn thing. Only that we’re not done turning each other on.”

He thrusts one big thigh between both of mine, grinding against me so I can feel his erection.

“I still turn you on, don’t I?”

The hard ridge pressing into my belly distracts me from replying. I can feel my panties dampening. God, I’m ridiculously wet. And my nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching wildly as they pucker against the lace of my bra.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. I know I still do.” His lips brush over my ear, eliciting a flurry of shivers. “If I slide my hand under that dress right now, we both know what I’ll find. That your pussy is wetter than it’s ever been.”

I can’t breathe. Because there’s no air. Dean is stealing it all with his filthy taunts. And his hands are pushing my coat off my shoulders. I’m frozen in place, too fascinated by the intensity simmering in his eyes. He lets the coat drop to the dirty pavement, then eases the hem of my dress up and cups his palm over my core. The resulting flash of pleasure is what snaps me out of my trance.

We’re in public, damn it, but Dean doesn’t seem to care. And even though it’s cold outside, his fingers are surprisingly warm as they dip under the crotch of my panties.

Chuckling, he rubs the wetness pooled there. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

He’s mocking me again, and my indignation returns in full-force. “Get over yourself,” I mutter. “I’d be wet if any guy was rubbing up against me.”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.” His thumb brushes my clit. I almost fall over. “It’s me. You want me.” He pushes one finger inside and my inner muscles betray me by tightening around it. “And as long as this hungry pussy keeps dripping for me, we’re not fucking done.”

Oh God. He’s fingering me in earnest now. The pleasure is unbearable, centered between my legs, pulsing in my veins. It’s all I can concentrate on.

“Dean…” Somehow I remember how to talk. “Anyone can walk outside right now.”

“Good. Let them. Let them see what a bad girl you are.”

I moan so loud it’s embarrassing. Dean adds another finger and works both inside me, curling them until they hit a spot that brings white dots to my vision. I rock against his hand, no longer putting up a protest, but greedily taking what he’s giving me.

“Should we give them a real show? Should I take you right here against the wall?”

My vision comes back into focus. His eyes are blazing with unadulterated lust. His free hand hovers over his zipper. He tips his head, waiting for me to respond.

I don’t know what spell he’s cast over me. I should push his hand away. Tell him to keep his pants zipped and stop being a jerk. We’re in public. Someone really might see us.

So why is my heart pounding even harder?

And why am I dipping my head in a nod?

Approval flashes in his eyes, along with a dose of pure need. His fingers slide out of my core, and then he spins me around so I’m facing the wall.

I tense when muffled voices drift toward us from the street beyond the alley. What if we get caught? What if we get caught by a cop? People go to jail for this, right?

Dean’s hot breath fans over my neck as he lifts my dress up to my waist. The chill in the air raises goose bumps on the backs of my thighs.

I should stop this. Probably. Maybe. But I don’t.

I hear the sound of plastic tearing, clothes rustling, and then his erection slides between my ass cheeks. It moves lower and lower until the tip nudges my opening.

“You better come fast,” Dean whispers in my ear. “I’m so hot for you I won’t last more than a couple strokes.”

I don’t know if I’ll last more than a couple seconds. My clit is swollen to the point of agony. So are my breasts. I’ve never had a quickie outside a bar before, and everything about this moment is different and thrilling and terrifying. The added element of danger, the risk of someone catching us, has turned my body into a live wire just waiting for one spark to ignite it.

And that spark comes in the form of one deep thrust from Dean.

My cry of climax is cut short when he claps a hand over my mouth. For someone who just taunted me about putting on a show, he’s suddenly cautious of our surroundings.

I, on the other hand, can’t even remember what continent we’re on. The orgasm races through me and leaves me breathless. I bear down on Dean’s shaft with every uncontrollable shudder, and he gives a barely audible groan and buries his head between my neck and shoulder as he pumps into me from behind.

He wasn’t kidding. He comes so fast I don’t know whether to be impressed or tease him about it. He drives into me one last time and trembles wildly, his hands clamped tight on my hips.

I’m trembling too, but I don’t know if it’s from the orgasmic aftershocks or the frigid breeze on my bare butt.

When loud voices break the silence, I jump away from Dean and shove my dress down to my thighs. A peek behind the dumpster reveals shadowy figures ambling along the sidewalk. Not a single head turns toward the alley.

I pick up my coat and hurriedly put it on as Dean tucks his still-hard cock into his pants. He flicks the condom in the dumpster and gives me a wary look.

“What?” My voice doesn’t sound like my voice. It’s lower. Throatier.

His gaze rakes over me from head to toe before locking with mine. “We’re not done,” he says gruffly.

I bite the inside of my cheek and say, “I know.”