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  mine as he slowly cleans me, his fingers pressing the terrycloth against my clit for far too long than necessary before moving over the insides of my thighs.

  "I'm going to mark you everywhere," he whispers. "All of you is going to be mine, Cassie Rae."

  17

  Colton

  I can't believe I just said that. Not the part about marking her. I definitely want to come all over her. But the part about her being mine.

  I've never said that to anyone before. But it's the truth. I don't want anyone else touching this girl.

  "You can't just claim me," she says, shaking her head. She bends down and pulls her panties on, and I stand there watching her. "Who says stuff like that?"

  "The guy who just came all over your pussy," I answer. I reach for her waist because I want to pull her against me, feel her skin against mine. And because watching her put on panties is hot. Watching her take them off is even better.

  "I thought you weren't going to lay a finger on me," she whispers.

  "I'm going to put my fingers inside you," I tell her. "Just not today."

  "Because coming on me is enough for you?"

  My cock twitches its response, which is a huge hell no. Coming on her pussy is far from enough. I want to fuck the absolute hell out of this girl.

  "Does it look like it was enough?" I ask, pressing my cock against her leg. I’m still hard for her.

  Her face colors.

  "This shouldn't happen again, Colton," she says, her voice halting.

  "Because you don't want it to happen again? Or because you're so hung up on the whole tutoring thing? Or," I go on, "because you're afraid that if I fuck you, you're going to like it?"

  She doesn't respond. I watch her get dressed, first her bra, then shirt, and finally her skirt, the whole time thinking I should just confiscate her clothing and keep her here with me.

  "I should go," she murmurs. "I've been up here for way too long. Your roommates are going to suspect something."

  I reach for my shorts but I don’t put them on. "You don't have to go." God, I sound like a chick. I clear my throat and speak firmly. Lower. More manly. "I mean, it's whatever."

  The expression on her face is conflicted, like she's torn between staying and leaving. This is just awkward as hell. I've never had an after-sex conversation. And this isn't even after sex. The extent of the conversations I have with girls I've fucked goes something like this: "Shut the door behind you when you leave. I have to get some sleep."

  God, I'm an asshole.

  "No, I need to go," she insists. She avoids making eye contact with me. Shit, maybe the whole mark my territory thing was over the line. But I can't help it when I'm around her. I have this feeling, some kind of primal urge, like she belongs to me.

  That sounds pretty fucking crazy, really.

  "Yeah," I grunt, shrugging nonchalantly, like what just happened is totally normal. Like it's every day that I jerk off in front of a girl and come on her pussy. Ten seconds ago, I was telling her what to do, ordering her to take her clothes off and finger herself in front of me. Now, afterward, I'm feeling nervous as hell. Me, Colton King, nervous. This girl makes me fucking uncomfortable.

  “Yeah.”

  "Either way. You know. Whatever," I mumble back.

  Way to go, Colton. Whatever is totally the right thing to say when you just jerked off on a virgin.

  Cassie gives me a funny look. "Yeah. Um. Whatever. I'll see you at the tutoring session."

  I get my balls back. Fuck this not-touching-her bullshit. That was just stupid. I pull her against my naked body, pressing her hips up against my cock.

  "Colton," she whispers, a warning.

  I don't let her speak. I press my lips against hers and she melts against me as her tongue finds mine. I kiss her, my hands immediately pulling the sides of her skirt up so that I can run my hands across her skin, cup her ass.

  Yep, not touching her was a fucking stupid idea. I don't want to stop touching her.

  "Colton!"

  That was not Cassie's voice.

  I pull away from Cassie, who looks at me with wide eyes. "Who is that?" she hisses.

  Now I groan louder. "Just a second, mom."

  Cassie's expression turns to a panicked one. "That’s your mother?" she hisses, her voice going up an octave even in whispered form.

  I roll my eyes and pull on my cargo shorts. Great timing, mom.

  "Oh, don't worry about me, honeybun," my mom yells from outside the door. "I'm just letting you know I'm here early and I'm going down to the kitchen. You boys need a good meal."

  Cassie puts a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

  I pull my t-shirt over my head. "Don't laugh," I say. "You don't have to deal with her."

  Cassie snorts. "Whatever you say, honeybun."

  "That's nothing," I grumble. "When Drew and I were growing up she used to call us honeybun and honey-two."

  "You have a brother?" Cassie asks. She bends over to pick up her messenger bag and puts the strap on her shoulder.

  "He's my twin," I tell her. "He's in South Carolina."

  "Playing football?" she asks.

  "Baseball."

  She slides her palms over the fabric of her skirt. "Do I look…?"

  "Like you just came?" I finish for her.

  Cassie drops her bag on the floor. "Oh my God, I need to wash my hands," she blurts out, running into the bathroom. When she comes out, she gives me a sheepish look. "Are you sure we don't look like anything happened?"

  "You look as pure as the driven snow," I say.

  "Funny," she shoots back. "You're a real comedian."

  Stepping outside of my room, I look over the staircase to see my mother directing my roommates to help with unloading bags of groceries.

  "Spaghetti okay with you boys?" I hear her ask, as she carries two loaves of bread through the living room.

  "Hell yeah, Mrs. K," Emmett calls back. "Are there cookies in one of these containers?"

  My mom catches sight of me coming down the stairs and immediately pushes the loaves of bread onto Jack-off as he passes by her. She squeals. "Oh, my little baby Colton!" she sings in her thick southern accent, her arms wide open.

  From behind me, I hear Cassie giggle.

  Yeah, it’s totally not embarrassing at all to have your mother show up when you're in the middle of feeling up your tutor and then have her call you her “little baby” right in front of her.

  "Hey, mom," I call as I walk down the stairs. "I thought you weren't coming until later?"

  "Oh, please, I left early. I couldn’t wait to see you, and I wanted to miss traffic.”

  My mom reaches to hug me, but as soon as she sees Cassie, she shoves me aside. "Now, who is this?" she asks. "I'm Colton’s mama, but you can call me Mrs. K like the boys do. Or Doreen."

  "Cassandra," Cassie says. "It's nice to meet you. I was actually just on my way –"

  But my mom already has Cassie by the arm and is guiding her down the stairs. "Ma," I say. "Do not overwhelm her."

  "Hush, you." My mother slides her arm around Cassie. "Colton didn't tell me he was seeing someone. Especially someone as pretty as you."

  "Oh, he's not seeing me," Cassie explains quickly. "Or, he is seeing me. But not in that way. Definitely not. I mean, I’m not his girlfriend."

  Cassie laughs uncomfortably and looks at me with a panicked expression.

  "She's my tutor, mom," I clarify. "Not my girlfriend. I’m not seeing her. And you can stop manhandling her now."

  My mother lets go of Cassie and takes a step backward. "You should be his girlfriend," she says. Then she looks at me. "This is the kind of girl you should be dating. She's classy. Obviously she's smart if she's a tutor."

  "Ma," I interrupt, my voice firm. "We're not dating. She's not my girlfriend. This is purely a business arrangement."

  Now it's time for my face to burn as I look at Cassie. It is a business relationship.

  A business relationship that involves nudit
y. And orgasms.

  "Yes," Cassie agrees, clearing her throat. "Business only. I'm his tutor. The athletic department hired me."

  "My son would be an idiot not to date you you," my mom goes on, gesturing toward me. "An idiot, Colton. I can already tell she's not like the girls you usually…date. My son's taste in women leaves much to be desired."

  And, we're finished here.

  In about two seconds, my mother is going to mention how she wants grandchildren someday, and how that day can’t come soon enough.

  "All right, mom," I say, interrupting my mother's meddlesome antics. "Cassie is going now."

  "Yes," Cassie agrees. "I'm just going. I was only here to help him with some schoolwork."

  "On a Friday afternoon?" my mother asks, raising her eyebrow.

  "Yep. It was important schoolwork.”

  "In his room?" my mother presses.

  Cassie's cheeks turn pink. "I was in the neighborhood," she explains, her voice wavering, "and I stopped by to see if he needed any help with –"

  "An English paper," I interrupt. "She was giving me some advice on a paper."

  "Yes. A paper," Cassie confirms emphatically. "It was so nice to meet you but I really have to go now."

  My mother slides her arm back around Cassie's shoulder. Oh shit. She’s moving in for the kill.

  "Nonsense," she says. "You need to stay for dinner. How long has it been since you had a home-cooked meal? Are you a college student too? I don't know how you kids survive on ramen and macaroni and cheese, although that's pretty much the only thing Colton would eat when he was a toddler —"

  "Mom," I warn before she breaks out stories of potty training me.

  “Um…I'm in grad school," Cassie says. "But I really do need to –"

  "Oh, grad school!" my mother exclaims, looking over Cassie’s shoulder at me. "I knew you were brilliant. And you're the one who helped my son get an A on his exam. You have to stay for dinner. I insist."

  "Yo, Mrs. K!" Tank shouts, passing through the living room. My mother drops her arm from Cassie's shoulder as Tank gives her a bear hug, picking her up off the floor. My mother is all of five-foot-nothing and maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, and Tank is six-foot-three and over three hundred pounds.

  When he sets her down, she pulls back and appraises him. "You're looking thin, Jonathan," she says.

  Tank giggles like a schoolgirl. "I have to keep my figure. I've been missing your cooking," he says. "Did you bring those cinnamon rolls?"

  "I'll make a pan up just for you."

  “Score.”

  I nod my head at Cassie while my mother is distracted, and she walks quietly toward me. "Escape while you can," I whisper. "It's too late for me. Save yourself."

  Cassie laughs quietly as she tries to do that.

  "Oh, I do hope you're not leaving," my mother calls at once. Nothing escapes her attention. "I want to hear all about how you're helping my son."

  How Cassie is helping me is one thing my mother does not need to know.

  18

  Cassie

  "You know, my roommate is probably expecting me," I say, my flimsy little excuse totally flimsy. "It's almost time for dinner and I think we're going out to eat, and —"

  "She can come to dinner with us!" Doreen proclaims. She's like a tiny dictator, except sweet as pie, ordering around these massive football players like they're children. She makes you feel like you can't say no.

  I have to say no.

  "I'm not sure she's home —"

  "Go ahead and call her up," Colton’s mother says brightly. "I'm sure she has her cell phone on her. You kids are attached to your phones like you need them to breathe. You're all too young to remember the days of rotary phones."

  "Yeah, call her up," Colton says.

  I glare at him. A minute ago, he was all about ushering me out of here, and now I'm standing here in the middle of the living room with his mother and a whole bunch of guys from his football team talking about my dinner plans.

  "Is your roommate hot?" A large guy asks, his mouth full of cookie. He's holding two more in his hands, double-fisting dessert. "Cause if she's hot, she should totally come for dinner."

  "This girl is hot," another one points out. "Of course her roommate's hot. Hot girls have hot roommates."

  "Enough," Colton barks, his voice hard. That silences the roommates.

  Now everyone is standing here quietly, staring at me expectantly.

  Fuck me.

  I dial the phone, saying a silent prayer that Sable doesn't answer. She's probably out. Maybe she's on a date.

  "Where are you?" Sable asks. "You don't have class on Friday afternoons. It's happy hour. That means tacos and margaritas."

  "Oh, you're already at happy hour?" I ask, making a pouty face and a thumbs-down gesture for the benefit of the crowd. "By yourself? And you're waiting for me to join you?"

  "Why are you talking to me in that voice?" Sable asks. "Are you drunk?"

  "Of course," I say. "I don't want you to be sitting in the restaurant all by yourself. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  "Are you being held hostage?" Sable asks.

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "Cassandra’s roommate!" Colton's mother yells loudly. "Ditch the restaurant and join us for dinner."

  "What about dinner?" Sable asks. "Who is that? Where the hell are you?"

  I clear my throat. "I'm at Colton King's house."

  Sable whoops so loudly that everyone in the room has to be able to hear it, and I quickly press the phone against my chest, trying to muffle the sound.