I was working at a study table near the windows across the hall from the café in the Union when Callahan tossed his backpack in one of the empty chairs with a chuckle. “You don’t trust yourself not to climb into my lap when we’re studying, huh?”
Narrowing my eyes, I retorted, “I don’t trust you not to initiate shenanigans.” With a shrug, I returned my attention to the books I’d laid out on the table in front of me rather than stare at his effortless hotness. I swear, in the past I’d never paid one iota of attention to any guy who always wore a ball cap backward, but the style gave him a boyish sexiness I had a hard time ignoring. Never mind the way his chest filled out his Wildcats hoodie or those low-slung jeans that emphasized his muscular thighs and tight ass. “Plus, we have a lower probability of being interrupted by your fan club if we meet here rather than at the library.”
He dropped himself into the chair opposite mine and pulled his iPad from his pack. “For the record, I enjoy shenanigans with you.” The wicked gleam in his eyes set a full battalion of butterflies loose in my belly.
Then the toe of his shoe slid along the outside of my calf, and I shoved both feet under my chair so fast I nearly lost my balance and face-planted the table.
His rich laughter played over me. “You can pretend all you want, Island Girl, but we both know you have a thing for me.”
“Careful with that ego, Hotshot. Wouldn’t want your head to get stuck in the double doors on your way out of here tonight.”
Dancing eyes met mine. “I’m not worried about my ego.”
Somehow we managed to do some work in spite of Callahan’s repeatedly finding ways to touch me even with a table between us. Two hours flew by as our project started taking shape in a way that excited both of us. It still surprised me how much he genuinely seemed to love classic British literature as much as I did. That and the fact that if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, he had the next closest thing. How he could read a book once, especially one as dense in detail as Mansfield Park, and have complete recall of events stunned me. I had to read a book at least twice, usually three times, to cement all those details in my head.
After we called it a night and packed up our books, I headed to the front doors of the Union. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, he was right behind me.
“You don’t have to walk me home.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s after dark.”
“It’s two blocks, Hotshot. On a well-lit sidewalk through the heart of campus. I walk this route by myself all the time.”
A cloud passed over his features. “Tonight, you don’t have to.” He had that same stubborn expression as the last time he walked me home.
With a nonchalant shrug, I said, “Suit yourself.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he fell into step beside me. “You coming to the Homecoming game this weekend?”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“But you are now, right?” An almost vulnerable hopefulness colored his tone.
“I think it’s too late to get tickets.”
“It’s never too late to get tickets when you know the right people.” He grinned.
“Well, then, I might go to the game. What’s Finn’s number? 94?” I smirked.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious, Island Girl.”
In minutes, we were standing outside the lobby to my dorm. “Thanks for walking me home. Even though it wasn’t necessary,” I couldn’t help but add.
“You gonna invite me in?”
I furrowed my brow. “Why would I do that?”
Rocking on his heels, he said, “I invited you to my place. Thought you’d return the favor.”
Shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder, I said, “You invited me to a party at your place. Totally different deal.”
Wicked mischief glittered in his sea-blue eyes. “I bet you’re too embarrassed for me to see how messy you are.”
My brows did their best to meet my hairline. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t even slow down. “Coffee cups overflowing your trash, dirty jeans and socks piled askew under your study chair, a pair of lace panties haphazardly flung over your desk lamp where you tossed them at the dirty clothes basket and missed. The covers mounded in the middle of your bed from you reading there right up until you had to sky out to class this morning.”
“You have one hell of an imagination.”
“From your response, I’m pretty close, yeah?”
“You think I’m a slob?” My voice might have risen an octave with the question.
His shrug was noncommittal. “Since you won’t invite me to your room, I have nothing to go on except for my imagination.”
“For the record, your imagination sucks.”
Slowly, his brow lifted, giving him a rakish expression. “So you are a messy roomkeeper.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I let a ghost of a smile dance over my lips. “Haphazardly? Askew? You’re using some quarter-size words there, Hotshot.”
“What?” He threw a hand over his chest in mock indignation. “I don’t skip class, and I study. Stop trying to deflect attention from the cyclone that is your room you don’t want me to see.”
“You are such a pain in my ass,” I growled. “Do you know that?” I spun on my heel and stomped toward the front door. When he didn’t fall into step with me as usual, I stopped and turned to see him standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. “Well? Are you coming in or not?”
I couldn’t help but return the smile that broke over his face as he jogged over to me. The front desk clerk did a double take when I waved to her with Callahan O’Reilly in tow. When I keyed us into my room and flipped on the lights, a low whistle sounded from his lips.
“Whoa. Not at all what I thought. Did you clean this morning in anticipation of inviting me over tonight?”
He met my half-hearted punch to his bicep with a low chuckle.
“This is how my room always looks, you jerk.”
Glancing around the small space, his eyes fixed on the study lamp on my desk. “Huh. Not even a stray pair of panties here.” His gaze found mine. “I’m disappointed, Island Girl.” The naughty expression accompanying his words intensified the second he spied the recliner in the corner behind the door. “Exactly what do you get up to in this?” He stepped over to the chair and made himself comfortable in it.
My recliner was big enough for me to curl up in with a blanket and a book. When Callahan sat in it, his football-player-size frame dwarfed it.
“That’s my reading chair.”
“Of course it is.” He waggled his brows, and I shook my head.
Tossing my backpack on the floor beside my desk, I spun my desk chair around to face him and sat down. His playful demeanor evanesced as he leaned forward and held my eyes with his. “You’re a junior in college. Why are you still living in the dorms with all their rules and restrictions?” Turning his head, he glanced around the tiny space. “And no room for much of anything.”
“One of the perks of being an RA is free room and board. It means I only have to work a few hours a week at the sweet shop to pay for incidentals so I can go to class and study the rest of the time.”
“You’re smart, Jamaica. You don’t need to study during every waking hour of the day.”
Before I realized what I’d done, I’d grabbed the seat of my chair on either side of my hips and rocked back and forth. Stopping mid-movement, I said, “I can’t lose my scholarship.”
His serious expression did little to eradicate the fears this conversation engendered. “That’s not going to happen.”
“It will if I don’t stay on top of my classes.” Staring into his eyes, I willed him to understand.
For a long minute, we didn’t say anything. Then he extended his hands to me, palms up. Without thinking, I set my hands in his. His hands enveloped mine as he gently rubbed his thumbs over my skin, sending cascading shivers over my arms.
“It’s called balance. I’ll help you work on it.”
A long beat passed. Then in one fluid movement, he was on his feet, tugging me up with him. Cupping my face in his palms, he said, “I have to be in the weight room at dark-thirty, so I’d better head out.”
He lowered his head and butterflied a kiss over my mouth. Without my permission, my fingers slipped through the belt loops of his jeans and I held onto his hips. On the second pass, he mashed his lips to mine, the pressure exactly what I needed, yet I craved more. The faint outdoorsy scent of his shampoo tickled my nose. That fragrance drew me in, and I pulled him closer.
His tongue flicked out along the seam of my lips, asking for an invitation I was already desperate to give. Tiny moans and whimpers escaped my throat with the hot glide of his tongue over mine. For reasons I’d never figure out, this man’s kisses turned me inside out.
He slid one hand into my hair at the back of my head, holding me where wanted me while his other hand trailed over my shoulder and down my spine to wrap around my back and hold me tight. My arms came around his waist, and I clung to him while his kiss sent my heartbeat into overdrive, a heavy rhythm that echoed low in my belly.
The whole world could have crashed around us in the space of that kiss, and I wouldn’t have paid one second of attention to it. I couldn’t make sense of how Callahan O’Reilly could make me forget everything I’d worked so hard, sacrificed so much, for. But when he slowly backed out of the kiss with tiny nips at my lower lip and hard little pecks across my mouth, I didn’t want to stop.
“Yeah, I thought we’d enjoy our good-night kiss more in your room than in the lobby or on the street, and I was right.” His eyes danced as he rested a hand on the back of my thigh.
Only then did I catch on that I’d started climbing him. Mortified, I slid off him fast, but when I attempted to step away, he held me close.
“Not so fast, Island Girl. Don’t pretend you weren’t as into that kiss as I was. I gave you exactly what you’ve been asking for all evening.”
“What are you talking about?”
A grin tipped the corner of his too-gorgeous-for-my-own-good mouth. “You haven’t been able to keep your eyes off my lips since I showed up at the Union.”
“Watch yourself, Hotshot. Your ego is showing.”
His grin widened. “You can tell your fibs to other people, but I saw where your eyes went.”
Pushing against him, I tried to pull away, but he held me close. “It’s okay, Jamaica. I couldn’t stop looking at your pretty mouth either. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised we got any work done with how much I was thinking about kissing you.” Leaning in, he stole another kiss, so I stole one from him.
“This”—he gestured between us—“is only starting, but I can tell we’re going to have a good time.”
“Nothing is starting between us. I don’t date jocks.”
Glancing down at where our bodies still touched with our arms wrapped around each other, he grinned. “Too late.” He patted me on the ass. “We’re already dating.”
I stepped out of his arms. “We are not dating. We’re study buddies because Dair’s TA has a warped sense of humor. That’s all.”
“Study buddies.” He snorted. “That totally explains the way we both go up in flames every time we kiss—”
I might have growled at him.
“—and you spending the night in my bed after our second date.”
My eyes flew to the ceiling. “This is not happening.”
“Sure it is. And it’s going to be a fun ride.” He opened the door to my room and reached back with his other hand to snag mine, lacing our fingers together. “I may have been thinking about other things today”—he waggled his brows—“and dropped some easy balls in practice. I need to be on time for weights in the morning. Come on and walk me out.”
He tugged me through the door and into the hall, then he reached behind the door to make sure the knob remained unlocked. At my questioning raised brow, he said, “Wouldn’t want you to have to call room service to get back in. Might be embarrassing, you being an RA and all.”
I sent my eyes to heaven and shook my head. But I was secretly touched that he’d made sure to save me a second trip to the lobby for the master key to unlock my door.
A giggly group of freshmen girls burst through the front doors to the dorm right as we arrived in the lobby. Their titters abruptly stopped when they caught sight of Callahan, who didn’t seem to notice them at all. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Bet you dream of me all night.”
I snorted. “You are so full of yourself.”
His eyes glittered over the top of my hand, which he’d raised to his lips. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be dreaming about you all night too.” The lingering kiss he planted in the middle of my palm sent tingles straight up my arm. Letting me go, he said, “See you in the morning.”
With athletic grace he easily stepped around the knot of staring freshmen and out into the night. I watched him walk away while his kiss remained warm on my skin.
As I turned to head back to my room, one of the freshmen broke from the group. “That was Callahan O’Reilly, wasn’t it? He’s even dreamier up close. Are you dating him?”
“I wouldn’t say we’re dating, exactly,” I hedged.
“Oh, then you won’t mind if I go after him.” A feral gleam came into her eyes—a cattiness I’d seen in the expressions of too many mean girls in my life.
Out of nowhere, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, and before I could stop them, the words were out of my mouth. “Sorry, Emma. Callahan doesn’t date freshmen.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t date freshmen?” She flipped a long blonde lock over her shoulder. “From what I hear, he likes all the girls.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Nope. Not freshmen. Too much drama, he says.”
I had no idea if he dated freshmen or not, and now I was putting words in his mouth. What was wrong with me? Emma’s narrow-eyed stare didn’t help. “’Scuse me, girls. I have a quiz to study for.” Turning on my heel, I headed back to my room. All the while, Callahan’s kisses lingered on my hand and my lips.