Page 98 of The Bro-code

Everything about her is hot and now that I know how her lips feel? There’s no way I’m going to be satisfied with just one kiss.

Where’s a good, old game of Seven Minutes in Heaven when you need it?

Give me seven minutes, Bay, and I’ll have you screaming my name so loud it’ll cover the music at this lame party.

Our mouths are still fused together, and I pull her tighter to my body. The hand that was holding her head in place slips down to her back now that I know she’s into this kiss just as much as I am.

I feel the line of her spine, all the way down to the swell of her round, perfect ass.

She has no business having an ass like this.

The music starts again and in theory we should stop kissing and start dancing again, but there’s no way this is happening.

I need to get Bay behind closed doors and take this further. I need to make her come.

My eyes have been mostly closed, but I open them to do a quick check of our surroundings. The pool is right next to us, behind Bay and I spot a couple of wooden changing huts next to an outside shower. That’s the closest place where Bay and I can be alone. I just hope she doesn’t turn me down, that the moment this kiss ends I don’t turn into a pumpkin or something.

“Cinnamon,” I murmur against her lips. “I don’t want to stop kissing you. Do you want to go somewhere where we can have some privacy?”

Her eyes are as wide as saucers, her pupils blown so big that they cover almost all the blue of her irises.

Bay nods, her fingers fisting my t-shirt, her teeth biting into her bottom lip in a way that goes straight to my cock.

I take her hand into mine, letting my eyes feast on her perfect body for one more second.

That dress should be illegal and I can’t wait to see how it’s going to look on the floor.

I’ll let Bay keep her stiletto pumps though, they’re sexy.

Wait a minute.

My eyes are stuck on Bay’s blue high heels. They look familiar but I can’t quite place why.

An image flashes in my lust riddled mind and I remember where I’ve seen those shoes.

Earlier today they were on the feet of whoever blew Jagger in the locker room.

The shower door was too high for me to see the girl who was partially hidden by Jagger’s body, but those bright blue high heels are burned into my mind.

Maybe someone else has an identical pair of shoes.

But how likely is that? They’re Louboutins, I know because I noticed the red soles earlier when I was staring at Bay as she walked away from me in the kitchen.

Those shoes cost thousands of dollars and Star Cove might attract a lot of students from affluent families, but I doubt someone on campus is wearing a pair of blue Louboutins tonight.

Fury replaces the excitement, pumping an equal amount of adrenaline into my system. I’m fucking furious.

Not because Bay gave Jagger a blowjob. I mean, I want to kill the lucky fucker, but Bay doesn’t owe me anything. We barely know each other—something I’m trying to change—so until I get to know her better and stake my claim, she can blow whoever the fuck she wants.

What makes me see red isn’t that she hooked up with someone else.

I’m mad because she hooked up with one of my teammates when the night we met she told me in that aircraft bathroom that she didn’t “do” hockey players.

She repeated that much earlier tonight in the kitchen.

“You lied to me,” I seethe, letting go of her hand.

Bay blinks a couple of times, clearly confused. “What?”

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