She Asked for It Read online

  “Need help?” I think I hear Mike say but when I look back, he’s talking to one of the guys who’s now playing beer pong.

  I feel dizzy and it’s all so much. “Water,” I say softly and force myself to go back to the kitchen. Sam needs water. Hell, I need water too.

  The smell of beer and pot hits me the second I round the corner.

  Holy shit.

  It really does smell like skunk. Sam keeps moving, up the stairs to the second floor with both of her hands over her ears. “I’m coming, Sam,” I mumble as I run to the kitchen faucet and fill two cups. One for me and one for her.

  Exhaustion and a thick cloudy haze greet me as I turn the corner to go up the stairs Sam climbed. It takes me a moment; a few guys go upstairs while I stand there. Mike’s cousin is one of them. The other two wait in line for the bathroom.

  I watch as Mike’s cousin goes into a bedroom; the door was open, but he closes it.

  “Hey, you going up there?” A guy’s voice from behind me startles me just as I start to call out Sam’s name and I swear my heart almost leaps from my chest. My ass hits the railing as I whip around to him and spill both cups.

  “Me?” I ask him, fear clearly evident.

  “You okay?” he asks me again with a broad smile like this is funny.

  But this isn’t funny. The cups fall from my hands like I’m watching in slow motion.

  “Whoa,” the guy says. Some part of me dimly notices he’s tall and he’s right in front of me to catch me as I tip forward. I know that I’m falling. I’m aware of it, but then it all goes black. I can hear him for a moment, asking if I’m alright and calling for help.

  I guess that makes it okay, so I give in to sleep. Help is coming.

  Running

  There are times in life when you run toward something.

  And there are times you run away.

  Neither choice is shameful.

  But either way, you’re running.

  Chapter 5

  Allison

  Five years later

  * * *

  Fourteen boxes.

  Packing and unpacking fourteen boxes takes a toll on the body. And my shoulders are sore; my core feels like it’s on fire.

  But I’m here.

  I actually went through with it.

  I hear them first as I round the building that houses all of the equipment for the fields. The bleachers come into sight first, followed by then the men I came to see.

  My hips sway a little more than before, my lips tilting up into a half-smile even though my heart races.

  I glance at each one, taking them in as the sweat glistens off their backs and chests. Most of them only have on a pair of gym shorts, ranging from blue to black to red. Their laughter drifts across the field as they huddle around the small area where all their gear is laid out.

  A few guys playing rugby. Seven of them, to be exact.

  It’s just a hobby team for the university, and most of these guys don’t take it seriously. Which is why there’s no one here. It’s just a reason to get out some aggression and judging by each of the guys’ history, there’s a lot of aggression here.

  I knew they’d be here, practicing and putting all their goods on display.

  A small hum slips from me and into the mid-August heat as I spear my hand through my hair and let the wind push it out of my face and off my shoulders.

  It doesn’t take long for one of them to notice me walking a little closer than I should.

  After all, the field backs up to woods and the only reason I’d be walking out here is for them. And now they know it.

  The guy closest to me tilts his chin up as he asks, “What’s going on?”

  The rest of them quiet down as I walk up to the bleachers and take a seat, letting my bag fall into the grass and rest against the metal. I’m in jeans, so I spread my legs just a bit as I lean forward, my body language suggestive but also relaxed.

  “I just came to see the game,” I say sweetly and let my eyes roam from the tall blond with broad shoulders to the darker brunette with a tattoo sleeve down his left arm.

  “No games today, sweetheart,” a man says at the far end of the group, but I don’t turn to look that way.

  “It’s always a game,” I tell him back. “I’m Allison,” I say, flirtation in my voice.

  “Well, hello,” the closest guy--the dark blond, or dirty blond as I like to call it--says and walks closer to me, taking a seat to my left but far enough away that I’m still comfortable. “I’m Daniel,” he tells me.

  “I know,” I say and then bite down on my lower lip. “Daniel, the one with the Irish temper,” I add, quoting his bio from the website for the frat, and then move my gaze across the remaining six men on the field. I looked them all up and Daniel definitely caught my eye. I’m not really into blonds normally, but I certainly noticed him.

  “James has the beard,” I say to the man with the neatly trimmed beard and then add, “Don’t shave it or I might forget.” That gets a laugh from them. He’s classically handsome, but only slightly above average looking.

  I finally take a look at the guys on the far right. I expect to feel a certain way, but my gaze is caught, trapped by a beast of a man. His eyes pierce through me, pinning me in place. It takes a moment for me to even register any other defining feature. I can practically feel his sharp jawline covered in stubble that would be rough to the touch. His hair that’s nearly black and just long enough to grip at the top, but shorter on the sides.

  His shoulders … broad enough to trap me under him.

  “I don’t know yours,” I tell him, feeling my heart race a little harder. My body heats with the way he looks at me.

  There’s something different about him. The air around him is tense. And I’m grateful for the distraction.

  “Dean,” he tells me and his expression stays hard. I’d say almost cold, but that’s so wrong. There’s a heat there, a heat of defiance. And something else. Or maybe I’m imagining it.

  He’s the type of man who gives you chills while making everything else that matters hot.

  The kind you know you’re supposed to stay away from because they’ll ruin you without thinking twice … The kind of man my dreams are made of.

  My cheeks heat and a small smirk lifts Dean’s lips as if he can read my mind. As if the dirty thoughts in my head are what his dreams are made of too.

  “We’re just finishing up a workout,” Daniel says and I nod as he adds, “We’re getting ready to party.” His voice is deep, but Dean’s is deeper.

  “Damn, I was really looking forward to your practice,” I answer him with a pout, finally ripping my eyes away from Dean.

  “You want to come?” Daniel asks me and I shake my head before taking a peek at Dean, who’s still watching me with that hunger in his eyes. “Come on, I know you do,” he teases and the playfulness in his voice makes me smile. He’s cute in a charming but deadly way, and that’s not what I’m after.

  “Not today,” I answer him, my voice coming out a little smaller than I’d like.

  “Suit yourself,” Daniel says and stands up, walking to where he’s laid his bag on the ground. “If you change your mind, come on down to Broom Street.” He smiles with a warmth that’s inviting. “It’s going to be fun,” he adds.

  A few guys let out a rough laugh, deep and low. “You’ll know which house is us,” one of them says.

  I keep finding my gaze drifting toward Dean’s and each time I do, his intense stare is on me. I didn’t come here for him. A little flirtation here and there is all I was aiming for, but the way he looks at me is doing something to me that I can’t deny.

  He’s bad for me. But I can’t help what I want.

  She Asked for It

  Preface

  Allison

  * * *

  From the moment I laid eyes on Dean, I knew he’d be trouble.

  I didn’t anticipate this though.

  I didn’t expect to let it go this far.

&
nbsp; I didn’t want him to be a casualty of my obsession.

  Someone to my right clears their throat, and I look down the row of people. A woman looks back at me; she’s older with graying hair and a thick sweater that climbs up her neck, practically swallowing the frail woman. She holds my gaze, narrowing her eyes and thinning her lips into a flat line.

  I know what she’s thinking. What they’re all thinking, and it makes me want to throw up.

  She asked for it.

  They have no idea.

  No one does.

  Not even Dean, as he sits on trial.

  They can judge me, because I deserve it.

  If I could go back, I would.

  I close my eyes and try to hold back the tears, the pain. Every moment that led us here is another chink in my armor. Picking away as the events flash before my eyes.

  When I open them, through the haze of tears scattered on my lashes, I see Dean looking back at me.

  I’m so fucking selfish, and that’s what pushed me over the edge.

  I knew Dean would be trouble. A kink in my plans perhaps, but I didn’t think I’d fall in love.

  I justified using him. I craved his touch so much that I pulled him into my web.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth and Dean’s expression slips.

  They’re right when they say I asked for it.

  I didn’t just ask for it, though.

  No, no.

  I fucking prayed for it.

  Chapter 6

  Dean

  * * *

  I like how she’s acting like she doesn’t recognize me. The way she twirls the pen in her brunette curls, looking up at the professor and then slips the tip of that pen between her teeth.

  Fucking tease.

  Her name’s Allison. I love the way it slips off my tongue.

  I didn’t look twice at her the first day we sat in this room. But I noticed when we crossed paths in the building next door, the one with the cafeteria. And I noticed when she started walking away from campus and toward the houses down Connell Street, only two blocks down from Broom Street.

  The tiny glances and the subtle way she shifts her thighs each time she sees me … that got my attention even more.

  Maybe it’s the curve of her waist or the way her lips are almost always just slightly parted. But something drew me to her and now the idea of her on her knees in front of me as I make her lips open wider with the head of my dick is all I can think about.

  And then she can treat me to the same sucking she’s doing to the tip of that pen right now.

  Maybe it’s just because Chem 201 is boring as hell.

  Or maybe it’s because Little Miss Allison looks like she’d be down for a dirty fuck, but she’s avoiding me at all costs.

  Like right now. How she knows I see her. She’s got to know I want her.

  But all she’s doing is slipping that pen across her bottom lip, making my dick twitch with need.

  “And you?” the professor asks, his voice directed this way. I’m one row behind and two spots to the left of her.

  “I’m sorry?” she asks Professor Grant. My lips curl up into a smile, although I hide it behind my fist as I lean my elbow against the desk. Yeah, I know I’m getting to this broad.

  “What’s the constitution of the nucleus of an atom?” he asks her and my brow raises slightly. We’re only five days into the semester and this class meets Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Week one is too fucking early for this shit.

  “Electrons and neutrons,” she answers hesitantly.

  “Wrong,” the professor’s voice rings out and Allison purses her lips. The pen in her hand taps on the textbook as the class know-it-all pipes up in the front row, not even waiting to be called on.

  Apparently it’s protons and neutrons, not that I give a shit. I’m undecided … on most things in life, and college is no different.

  I lean over, feeling my weight push into my ribs as I lean across the metal bar.

  “Maybe you should pay attention,” I whisper my first words to Allison, and she finally looks at me.

  She gives me a side-eye with a slanted smile and I give her a charming smile back before letting my weight fall into the seat and relaxing.

  She looks over her shoulder after the professor turns his back to us, ranting about something he’s scribbled on the chalkboard.

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she blushes, peeking at me and then once again pretending to pay attention to him and not me.

  That only makes me want her more. I know she’s thinking about me. I want to know exactly what she’s daydreaming about. So I can make it come true.

  I know she didn’t recognize me yesterday on the field; I’ve been sitting in the back of this classroom, but I recognized her. She’s fucking gorgeous, assertive … doesn’t know what’s in an atom though. I smirk at the thought and pretend to give a shit about what’s on the board when Professor Grant turns back around and looks right at me. I even nod for his benefit.

  The desk groans as I readjust in my seat and get another peek from Allison when the lecture continues and his voice drones on.

  Not a lot of women approach a group of men with confidence. There’s a shyness but also a playfulness in this one that I like. It’s something I want to explore and judging by the way she acted yesterday, compared to how she’s been in class the last two days, quiet and reserved, I’m guessing she’d like to explore some shit too.

  The large, simple clock above the door ticks by so damn slowly as I wait for the class to end. Every time Allison puts that pen into her mouth, my dick gets a little harder. She lets it roll down her bottom lip and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t doing it on purpose.

  By the time two o’clock hits, I’m hard as fucking steel.

  I stay in my seat as everyone packs up around me, my eyes still on my prey.

  As she closes her book, she deliberately avoids my gaze, again. I know she is.

  “I thought you’d be shy,” I tell her as the person to my right leaves, blocking my view of Allison for only a fraction of a second. She sets the heavy book into a backpack and zips it up, all the while looking at me with an expression that tells me she doesn’t know how to answer.

  “When I saw you the last two classes,” I tell her and then close my book, “you seemed shy and not at all like you did yesterday.”

  “Is that right?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear and setting her bag back down on the floor. She turns in her seat to face me and says, “I didn’t know we had a class together. I guess it was just nerves.”

  “You didn’t look too nervous yesterday.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asks me, but there’s a spark of mischievousness in her eyes. It makes my smile widen.

  “It seemed like you wanted something particular.”

  “And what would that be?” she asks me. I notice how her chest rises and falls with her shallow breathing.

  I lean forward and lower my voice. “Can I tell you something?”

  “What?” Her lips stay parted just slightly and she stares at me with curiosity.

  “I called dibs when you left,” I tell her. It’s not true. After she left, her hips swaying and a small bit of that shyness returning when she saw me watching her fine ass walk away, all the guys were talking about was how much ass they’re gonna get in college.

  Her ass, any ass. It doesn’t matter to them. But this one I’d noticed before. This one came to a group of men and is obviously in need. So when she left the field, the vision of her soft lips stayed in my mind.

  “Did you really?” she asks me and then shakes her head like I’m ridiculous.

  They don’t get this ass. Not until I get my fill first.

  “Yeah,” I tell her and look around the now-empty room. “Where’s your next class?” I ask her.

  “I don’t have anything else after this,” she admits.

  “Me neither,” I tell her and she throws her head back, laughing.

  “Y
ou’re such a liar,” she says, calling me out on my shit with a voice full of humor. Her genuine smile grows and that beautiful pink colors her cheeks. “You want to get in my pants badly enough that you’d miss your class?”

  My adrenaline spikes. “How’d you know?” I ask her.

  “Your schedule’s right there,” she mocks me and rolls her eyes. She grabs the paper off my desk and verifies that she is, in fact, right, before tossing it back to me.

  “It’s right next door and you’re going to be late,” she says confidently and stands up, swinging the backpack over her shoulder.

  “It can wait if you want to get out of here,” I offer her.

  “You’re shameless,” she says and then she grips the strap of her bookbag and asks me softly, “You think I’m that easy?”

  “I think you want it; you might be afraid to get it though.”

  Her expression slips just slightly, so quickly I almost don’t see it and I second-guess my approach. “I think you know what you want,” I speak clearly and wait for her light green eyes to reach mine. “I fucking love that.”

  “Oh yeah?” she says, her confidence returning and the space between us heating again. The tension between us thickens as I stand up, closing the small space that separates us. She stays still, letting me get close enough to touch her.

  “Yeah, and I know what I want too,” I tell her and lean forward, so fucking close, but she turns her shoulder to me, brushing against my chest and arm as she walks away, leaving my heart beating hard.

  “Well, right now I want to go home, Dean,” she says over her shoulder.

  “Love the way you say my name too,” I tell her and she pauses in the doorway. “I can make it sound even better when you scream it.”