"Damn it."
Colton pushes me up against the hallway wall, putting his hand above my head and leaning down toward me. "So are you coming to my place to reward me for my good grade or what?"
"No way," I hiss. "We've almost made it through the summer without getting caught. I'm not finishing the semester with that kind of a bang, thanks."
Colton grins. "I have a better idea."
"I'm afraid of any ideas of yours."
"Let's go to the athletic center," Colton suggests.
"The tutoring rooms are locked afterhours," I say. "You know they don't give us keys."
Colton pulls his key ring out of his pocket. "I have a key," he says.
"To the tutoring rooms? How did you get one?"
"Not to the tutoring rooms."
"To where, then?"
"You'll see."
Inside the athletic center, I'm definitely nervous. It's mostly deserted afterhours, but it's not like we're running around at three in the morning or anything. There are definitely still people here. And those people could include Colton's teammates or his coaches. Or anyone else who might know who the two of us are.
This is a really stupid idea.
"What if someone sees us walking together?" I ask, putting several feet between us in the hallway.
"So?" Colton asks. "I'm doing awesome, getting good grades. Obviously you're a great tutor who gives me extra help during off hours."
I look over my shoulder at him to see him waggling his eyebrows at me and looking at me lasciviously.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm worried about people thinking," I hiss. "Where are we going?"
We round a corner near where the athletic director offices are. "Coach's office," Colton whispers.
I stop short. "No fucking way, you ass," I hiss. "I'm not doing it with you in your Coach's office."
"I'm kidding," he says. "God, you should have seen the look on your face."
"Bye," I say, turning around and walking the opposite direction.
Colton catches up with me, moving to block my path. "Don't be pissy."
"I'm not pissy," I say. "This is a really bad idea."
"Come on, chicken," he taunts.
"I'm not chicken, either," I protest. "This is a stupid idea and we're going to get caught."
Colton looks behind him before pushing me up against the wall. My heart beats wildly in my chest as he looks down at me, his lips inches from mine. Heat courses through me and a tingle of arousal goes right between my legs. "You like the possibility of getting caught," he whispers.
"I do not," I hiss, glancing behind me. He snakes a hand up underneath my skirt and reaches between my legs.
"So you say. Except that I know you're lying."
"Not lying," I argue, but my words catch in my throat as he slides his fingers over my clit.
"I want to fuck you here," he whispers.
"I'm not fucking you in the hallway."
"I could make you come right here, right now," he says, his finger moving more quickly.
"No," I protest.
"Do you trust me?"
"Definitely not."
Footsteps echo loudly down the hall and I push Colton's hand away, jumping away from him like I've been shocked by electricity. I put several feet between us, rounding the corner with long strides like I'm in the building on important business and have no idea that a hot as hell football player seems to be following me. I nod to the person who passes me, who turns out to be a janitor wheeling a floor buffer down the hallway.
From behind me, Colton chuckles. "Chicken," he whispers.
I ignore him until we get to the end of the hallway where I turn right to head back toward the exit. He calls my name softly. "I'm leaving," I say back.
"Come on. I came here to show you something."
I look at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm afraid to ask what that is."
Colton grins. "It'll be worth your while."
"How can I resist?" I ask the question sarcastically, but it's hard to be annoyed with him when he's standing there grinning like he's totally pleased with himself.
That cocky, crooked grin is going to be the death of me.
I follow him, walking for what seems like forever before he stops at an elevator that takes us up almost to the top floor.
When we reach where we're going, Colton stops and looks around like he's a spy checking for a tail, even though we haven't passed anyone in a few minutes. He pushes a key into a door, quickly shutting it behind him.
"What is this place?"
"It's the alumni box," he says. He flicks one of the light switches and a row of recessed lighting illuminates part of the room. It's all dark wood and leather seating and long tables, the primary focus being the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room that overlook the football field.
I walk to the window and peer out. It's mostly dark, the only lights the security lights illuminating the corners of the field. "Nice view."