Page 4 of Blitz'd

I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts—there’s a near endless number of people I could call. I could have a girl, a guy, or both on my cock in a half hour or less. There are perks to being a goddamn superstar.

And…

No matter how long I scroll, none of the names are doing a damn thing to pique my interest.

I grunt, dropping my head forward onto the steering wheel of my car where I’ve been sitting for the past half hour, lingering on a campus I havenobusiness being on, in front of a dorm building that I shouldn’t know about.

It’s shocking how easy it is to get a little information out of an eager freshman if I put on a charming smile.

It’s even more shocking when they’re so clueless you get to steal their access card, and they’re too busy preening and hoping the number you gave them was real to notice.

Fucking desperate.

About as desperate as a guy sitting in his car outside a dorm building when he should be fucking his way to oblivion back at his apartment.

I wouldn’t call myselfdesperate, though—it’s more that I tasted something and Iwantedit. Zander Braithe doesn’t know what he did when he kissed me.

He doesn’t realize that pressing his lips to mine gave me every right to figure out where he lived, every right to track him down.

Every right to do whatever Iwanted.

It wasn’t my fault if the fucker signed a check he wasn’t ready to cash.

And I’mstillin my car twenty minutes later, wondering what I want to do, when a low growl finally spills from my chest. For all I know, he got exactly what he wanted and made that blonde bitch so jealous she’s in his room right now, riding his dick and making fake little moaning sounds.

No.

Not happening.

It’s that thought more than anything that shoves me from my car, that thought more than itshouldthat sends me to the dorm building with the card in hand. If this was a halfway decent campus, there’d be someone at the desk making sure no one untoward came in when they weren’t supposed to. As it is, there’s an older man with his eyes half closed.

He doesn’t bother opening them when I hold up the card I’d snagged and make my way past him without saying a word.

It makes sense—if he doesn’t know the students who room here very well, I just look like any other jock coming in and out after a night of celebrating a win.

God, fuck theirwin. Thinking about it makes me mad, and for some reason, getting mad makes my dickharder.

And fuck whatever is possessing me as I make my way up the stairs.

This was as far as I’d gotten in my scout for information.

I was a piss poor stalker, but I’d counted on my good luck to lead me if I managed to get into the building… and it seems like that bitch is on my side, because this is one of those dorms where half the doors have whiteboards pinned to the front so people can leave little messages.

Busy fucking, don’t come in.

That one better not be him. The black swirl of irritation just beneath my skin springs to the surface, and I stalk forward before something catches my eye two doors down.

Don’t forget your key again, Zandy.

Zandy.Zandy?

Why the fuck did he taste like applesandhave a dipshit nickname likeZandy?

I don’t think about it when I stride forward and knock on the door. EitherZandyis home, or he’s out somewhere fucking that girl in a victory lap because he made her jealous.

The sound of footsteps come closer after I bang on the door for a third time, and a bit of smug satisfaction pours through me when the door opens and one veryrumpledand sleepy looking Zander blinks at me in confusion.

He hasn’t been fucking anyone. I can tell by the empty room behind him and the fact that he looks more pissed than anything.

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