“What are you saying? I can’t trust you, Mr. Kyle Davis?”

He cringes and rakes fingers through his tousled hair. “Jordan … can we talk?” His eyes glance about the room before they return to mine. “Somewhere private?”

The blessed warmth of alcohol has loosened me up—enough that I agree to his request against my better judgment. “Okay.”

Removing the plastic shot glasses from my possession, he tosses them away. Then he takes my hand, enclosing it in his large, calloused palm. Zings shoot through me. “Where are we—”

I break off when I realize those nearest us are staring. The music still pounds, and dancers still grind, but they’re doing it while watching us, Jaxon and Lindsay included. Jaxon’s eyes are on our joined hands before they slide up, confusion clouding his eyes. The girl he’s with doesn’t look confused. She looks ready to maim.

Unnerved by the focus, I shift backwards and the grip on my hand tightens.

“You two know each other?” Jaxon asks, and there’s hurt in his tone that I don’t understand.

“Yes,” I blurt out, for a moment forgetting the confidentiality of our tutoring agreement in my haste to explain. “He’s—”

“We’re dating,” Kyle interrupts quickly.

“What?” Lindsay screeches from her narrow-eyed stance beside Jaxon. She looks at me. “You’re dating Brody Madden?”

“What?” A hush falls over the room. Even the music is kind enough to hit an instrumental so everyone can eavesdrop with ease. “No! I— Wait … Brody Madden? I don’t—”

“Let’s go,” Kyle growls. I’m pulled roughly from the basement. People sweep to the side like he’s parting the Red Sea. I’m oddly breathless, and confused, and somehow still managing to enjoy the heat of our joined hands.

“Stop,” I gasp when we leave the basement.

He ignores me and I’m dragged toward another set of stairs. We pass by Leah coming out of a side hallway, fluffing her hair and readjusting her top. She stops dead and her eyes are dinner plates. She tries to say something but her mouth resembles a fish, opening and closing without speech.

“What …”

Kyle doesn’t pause his determined stride. I find myself jogging up the second set of stairs behind him or risk getting dragged along the ground. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I call out to Leah over my shoulder. “We’re just going for a quick chat.”

“A quick chat?” she bleats weakly.

Leah disappears from view as we walk along a dim, narrow hallway. He shoves open a door, and I’m pulled inside behind him.

“Hey!” shrieks a girl in her bra and panties. She’s wrapped around a shirtless guy in a pair of jeans.

“Out,” Kyle commands.

“Dude! What the f—”

The guy spins toward us, eyes livid. His anger drains quickly when he looks at us. “Oh sh-shit. Brody. Sorry.” He ducks, grabbing at clothing and dragging his half-naked girl out behind him. The door shuts swiftly behind them, closing us in together.

It’s suddenly quiet, the basement music a muted thump from below. We stand facing each other in the darkened room, and it’s like I’ve been thrown in the lion’s cage at the zoo. Pale moonlight shines through the window, and I see his chest moving up and down, his pulse throbbing in his neck.

I clear my throat. “Why is everyone calling you Brody?”

He pauses for a beat. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, and I know I’m not the only one affected. There’s attraction between us, hot and intense, but I ignore it because I feel like I’ve been played. “That’s my name. Brody Madden.”

“I see,” I reply, when I don’t really see at all. I sink to the edge of the bed behind me because my legs are jelly. “Brody Madden,” I repeat, more to myself than anything.

I look up. He’s shifted closer—too close. His deep brown eyes are wary, his shoulders and chest powerful, like glory and golden fire as they flex beneath the muscle tee shirt he wears. His calves are honed, hips slender, and his stance tense. He’s number twenty-two. Wide receiver. Football royalty. And Jaxon’s cousin, which makes Professor Draper his uncle. “You play football,” I say in the silence.

Kyle … no, Brody, folds his arms. “Yes.”

“Oh my god!” I bite out at the confirmation. “You said we were dating! Why would you do that?”

“Because you were about to tell the whole world you’re my tutor!” he replies hotly. “I had to say something. I was holding your hand dammit. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“I was not about to tell the world!” I yell defensively, shooting to my feet. “I was about to … Oh shit, I was.” I sink back to the edge of the bed, blaming the chugged beer and tequila shots for my unsteady legs. I place a hand on my forehead. It’s hot and clammy. “I don’t understand. Professor Draper said I was tutoring Kyle Davis.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Kyle Davis is his TA.”

“Well why would he …” My mind flashes back to my meeting with the professor and there’s a light-bulb moment. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“He didn’t actually give me your name,” I admit. “He handed me your information but it got caught up with other papers from his desk. I must have picked up the wrong sheet.”

Brody begins pacing in front of me, and it makes the room spin. He shoots me a hooded glower, his tongue snaking out to lick along his lush bottom lip. My eyes follow its path.

“This whole tutoring thing is a bad idea.”

“I agree completely,” I reply, my heart beating hard and fast. I drag my gaze from his mouth and the effort leaves me dizzy. “But you know what’s worse?”

He halts his pacing and pins me with his eyes. “What?”

“Failing.”

His jaw ticks as he stands there staring down at me, tension thick in the air. “I’m not going to fail.”

“Of course not. What would your professor know?” I snap, standing with a sudden surge of irritation. “If football’s everything to you, you can’t afford to fail.”

Done with this conversation, I make for the door. Twisting the knob, I shove it open and blinding light streams in. I turn back. “But I guess you already know that.”

It was meant to be a parting shot, but I don’t make it out the door.

Brody’s hand grips my shoulder, and I’m pulled back inside the room. He closes the door behind us and nudges my back up against it. He pins me in place with his hips, both hands planting flat on the door above my shoulders. His movements aren’t rough, but they’re forceful, and air leaves my lungs in a rush.

“You can’t go out there.”

“Newsflash, Brody. That’s the exit. You expect me to go out the window?”

“Everyone thinks we’re in here together.”

“We are in here together.”

He clears the matter up. “Having sex.”

“Well that’s just bloody awesome, isn’t it?” I push back against him, and it brings us flush together, our bodies aligning seamlessly. “We’re not having sex, and we’re not dating.”

“Stop it,” he groans and grinds his hips into me.

I freeze. “Are you … humping me?”

“Of course not,” Brody says and turns his head into my neck. I hear him exhale, long and ragged, his breath ghosting along my bare shoulder. My hands shake and I fist them so he doesn’t see how affected I am. “Just … wait a minute.”

“For what?” I whip out, anxious to leave. “The Tardis to magically appear and deliver me home?”

His lips twitch, but when I wriggle against him a guttural sound escapes his throat. His hips jerk forward, the bulge in his pants now a hard, throbbing pulse against my belly.

My body stills, the feel of him against me forcing an internal battle of need. “So help me, Brody, if you don’t get off me right this instant I’m going to … to …” Dammit, I can’t think. I can’t deliver threats when he’s pressed so close, his skin damp from the heat of the room and smelling of soap.

Brody’s chuckle is low and breathy. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m your tutor,” I hiss.