Page 9 of Cruel Devotion

Ten minutes after hanging around them as they talked, I left and checked out what was happening in another room. Then another. From one spot in the huge mansion to another, I had fun and didn’t let anything bother me more than wondering what else I could do.

Foosball.

Beer pong.

Even a half-assed game of chess with some honor’s society frat boy.

Talking with friends, hitting on girls, and helping myself to the drinks and food.

I was having a fine night, so long as I made sure to avoid running into Preston again. The less we interacted, the better, but tonight, when we were both drinking, it would be a recipe for trouble to butt heads with him.

Later, when I vaguely wondered where Finn was and if he was doing all right with his tendency to still become a little socially anxious, I smiled down at the short redhead who was doing everything and anything she could to keep my attention on her.

“I think you did great tonight.” She leaned into me, tracing her finger down the front of my shirt.

Holy shit, are you wasted.She reeked of alcohol, and her obliviousness was off-putting. Yeah, I’d been drinking throughout the night, but I wasn’t in any rush to get so hammered I didn’t know what I was saying. A steady buzz was fine, and I didn’t have to worry about driving either, since the campus was within walking distance.

“Tonight?” I asked, playing stupid but knowing damn well what she was insinuating.

“Yeah, at the game. You were so,sosexy on the field.”

Oh, my God. You sound ridiculous.“It’s a basketball court. Not a field.”

She giggled. “Same thing.”

“Hmm.”

She bit her lip, staring at me withcome-fuck-meeyes. This girl was after one thing and one thing only, but I wasn’t in the mood now. Not with her.

“I don’t play basketball, though.”

She didn’t look up at me again, moving closer to be flush with me as she brushed imaginary fluff off my shirt. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

She shrugged, lifting her sultry gaze to smile at me again. “My bad. I could have sworn I saw you playing tonight.”

“Nope.”

“But you look just like the rest of them.” She smoothed her hand up my arm. “Strong.” She squeezed my biceps. “Muscled.” She raised her arms higher, to urge me into following along and hugging her. Not a normal hug, but the raised-arms kind of hug a woman did when they wanted to smash their tits against a guy. “So… hot.”

Hearing a woman compliment my body was nothing new. I got around, or I did back before the football season started. During it and after, I was more selective. And hearing this girl stereotype me bothered me.

“You’re just my type, Ethan.”

Fuck, she doesn’t even know my name.“Eli.”

“Hmm. Eli, you’re just my type. I like all the jocks.”

I bet you do.

There was no doubt that she was offering herself up to me. Nearly grinding against me, tipping her face up toward mine as if waiting for a kiss, she was throwing herself at me.

Between her behavior and how she moved, and the revealing outfit…

Yeah, her desperate intention to get laid was obvious.

I didn’t want to stereotype either, but shelookedlike an easy lay, like she’d dressed like this and come to this party just to get fucked up—and find a guy to fuck.

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