“Trust me. My dancing is a bad joke. You don’t want to see it.”
He lets me go once we make it past the keg line and I wander to the back corner of the porch—away from the music, the crowd, the Kittys of campus. But I can’t seem to shake Masters so I climb up on the top railing and settle in for a night of people watching, which is better than being inside the muggy house watching a bunch of drunk guys play Madden on a big screen.
The back of the house juts up against a small green space shared by about six or seven other houses—the infamous Playground where the football team lives. When Jack got the invitation to move into one of the houses, we’d known then that the Western coaching staff had high hopes for him.
Knox leaps, one handed, onto the railing.
“How high can you box jump?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Like my moves, do you?” He flashes a smug-as-fuck smile and flexes his biceps. My body tightens in an instinctive response. At least I blame it on biology. It’s natural for me to be turned on by a big, strong guy. Generations of women have succumbed to the big brawny male. It’s why a specimen like Masters exists. “I can do just shy of five feet. Not as good as JJ Watts, but I’ll get there. So, why are we hiding back here?”
“I’m at a party with over a hundred people. I hardly think that qualifies as hiding.” Masters hasn’t shaved and the scruff around his chin only serves to make him look a hundred times hotter. I remind myself that hairy chins can mean hairy butts and hairy backs, but sadly, that does nothing to quell my biological response to him. I take a sip of my Coke to hide my agitation and hopefully cool myself off.
“It’s dark here. There isn’t another person within ten feet of you. I think that qualifies as hiding.” He leans closer, his muscled forearm resting too close to my ass for comfort. I try to slide over an inch but a tree branch stops me.
“This thing is a hazard.” I bat at the branch. It causes a few leaves to fall, but doesn’t give me any space to move away. Between his body and this unruly forest, I’m stuck.
“Hammer’s too busy to cut it down. Besides, I think people fuck back here. He probably keeps it to provide cover.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that from personal knowledge?”
“Personal? As in, have I made the mistake of checking out some noises back here, thinking that an animal was rooting around in garbage, only to find one of my teammates getting his pipes cleaned? Then yeah, from personal knowledge.”
“Still sticking with that virgin thing, are you?”
“I am.” He lifts a bottle of something to his lips and drinks. His big hand nearly engulfs the container filled with clear liquid. Probably vodka. I tear my eyes away from his bobbing Adam’s apple because even that is sexy. “You don't believe me, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” I tilt my head as if a new perspective can reveal the truth. “I don’t know why. I look at you and think it can’t be true.”
He smiles back at me. “I take that as a compliment, but it’s true. I mean, I'm glad that you think that I've got some moves. That bodes well for my future girlfriend.”
“Is it so important that I believe you?”
He spears me with those brilliant gem green eyes of his. “Yeah, I think it is.”
I refuse to explore that sentiment. It’s too scary. I ask him another question. “So, you've never made out with anyone or never had a girlfriend?”
“No, I have.” His arm has slid over that spare inch and now rests against my ass. I try not to let it affect me. I try to pretend that little contact between his bare forearm and my jean-clad butt isn’t spreading into every nerve of my body.
I clear my throat. “So, you’re an everything but virgin. Newsflash, you're not a virgin.”
He chuckles, low and deep. “I’ve never stuck my dick in a girl. I've never gotten a blowjob. I've never gone down on a girl. But I have got to first and second base.”
“I can't believe I'm asking you these things, but I can't help myself. It's partly your fault because you keep answering them. But how about dry humping?”
He takes another swallow from his bottle and then another. Then he drains the whole thing and sets it on the deck floor. “Yeah, I'll admit to that. Do I keep my virgin status?”
“I’ll think about it.” I’m glad it’s dark because I feel hot, and I bet I’m beet red. Why I’m asking these super personal questions of Knox Masters, I do not know. But I’m the one suffering because now all I can think about is what it’s like to kiss Knox, to straddle his lap and rub myself against him until we’re both crazy with lust. Dry humping? Did I really ask him that? I press my can against my forehead, but it’s lukewarm and provides absolutely no relief. I think I need a cold beer. Or some of that rum that the kid offered earlier.