Page 9 of They Break Beauty

She jerked her hand free of mine, then pushed her way toward a group of guys and started getting her dance on with them. I stayed near a group of sorority girls, moving to the slow jam beat while keeping a close eye on her.

I hated dancing around guys.

I didn’t like being touched.

Not by men.

Fortunately, the sorority girls must’ve seen the nervousness all over me, how uncomfortable I was, because one of them took my hand and the other three welcomed me into their group. They were dancing in a fun, hilarious way, just living it up.

Exactly what I’d been going for when Chloe and I had been headed to this party earlier.

I’d wanted to let loose a little and have fun.

But with the way she’d been, it had forced me into the role of babysitter.

One of the girls—one with beautiful long black curly hair—leaned in and told me in a serious tone that cut into the revelry, “You should get her home.”

Her friend in a romper a lot like mine added, “Right now. She’s what they’re looking for.”

I frowned. “What?”

Another one with straightened brown hair and a gold mini-dress told me, “Look, we like you. And your friend. That style app you made? Ah-mazing!”

“And you want Chloe to make you an outfit for that gala you’ve got coming up,” the one in a romper said.

“Well, that too.”

“What did you mean that she’s what they’re looking for?” I pressed.

The one with the amazing curly hair told me, “It’s a sick game with a couple of the frats. Let’s just say they use tonight to reach a certain quota.”

“Of hookups,” another added.

“We’re here trying to figure out who’s involved in this sick game and we’ve got a couple of members from another frat helping us. So far we’ve only got a few ID’d and tossed out, so there’s still a lot more here.”

“They want the inebriated ones, like your friend right now.”

I screwed up my face. Urgh. That was beyond sick and twisted. “Shit, thanks for the heads up.”

“No worries.”

I went to get Chloe just as she was grinding her ass against a guy behind her, while she linked her arms around another in front of her, but the sound of the music suddenly stopping startled me, pulling me up short.

“Let’s take this party up a notch!” someone called out, and I followed the sound to see three guys taking position on a raised platform with a drum kit and microphones. One sat behind the drums, while one holding a bass guitar took position at one of the microphones.

But the one who really caught my eye—and whose presence caused a whole lot of commotion and the crowds rushing over to the makeshift stage—was the one in the leopard print shirt and black leather pants who had an electric guitar strapped to him.

He was a very familiar face around Stonewell—especially the college campus.

Colton Sharp, playboy extraordinaire.

His platinum-blond wavy mohawk was styled to perfection, his toned body emphasized by his form-fitting clothing. He was clean-shaven with so many hoops and studs in his ears that there were too many to count.

Shrieks and applause erupted as he took position. “This is a new one. Just for you,” he spoke, making the crowd go even wilder.

Then they launched into hard-rock anthem.

His voice was gritty with a sexy rasp, and the confident way he moved and the seductive way he rolled his hips and grasped the microphone as he got into the song, his passion pulsing forth… it was intense and one hell of a pull.

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