Oh man. I’m in big trouble. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. Every time the memory floats into my head, my pulse races and my balls tighten, and all I want to do is kiss the crap out of her again.

The overpowering lust, however, is accompanied by a sense of crushing rejection. Because, clearly, I was the only one affected by that damn kiss. If Hannah had felt something, even in the slightest, she wouldn’t have stuck her tongue down Dean’s throat two seconds later. Dean. One of my best friends.

But she’s not here with Dean tonight, now is she? Nope, she’s my date, and we’re here to make another guy jealous—why can’t I give in to temptation? This might be the only chance I get.

So I plant a soft kiss on the side of her throat before whispering, “You’re gonna be the center of attention tonight, babe. Smile and pretend you’re enjoying it.”

I steal another kiss, this time on the corner of her jaw, and she sucks in a breath. Her eyes widen, and either I’m imagining it, or there’s a glimmer of heat there.

Before I can interpret what I’m seeing, one of the linebackers interrupts us. “Graham! Yo, good to see you, man!” Ollie Jankowitz lumbers over and slaps my back, and the contact jars my entire body because the dude is monster-sized.

“Hey, Ollie,” I say before nodding at Hannah. “Do you know Hannah?”

He wears a blank look for a second. Then his eyes dip to her chest, and a slow smile stretches across his bearded face. “I do now.” He sticks out one meaty paw. “Hey, I’m Oliver.”

She awkwardly shakes his hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Got anything to drink in this place?” I ask Ollie.

“Kegs are in the kitchen. Lots of other party favors floating around, too.”

“Nice. Thanks, man. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

I lace my fingers through Hannah’s and lead her to the kitchen, which is packed with drunken frat brothers. I haven’t spotted Beau yet, but I know we’ll run into him eventually.

I’m not too thrilled at the prospect of seeing Kohl, though.

I grab two plastic cups from the stack on the granite counter and make my way to one of the kegs. The frat boys protest, but when they notice who’s pushing them aside, they part for me like the Red fucking Sea. Just another perk of being the captain of Briar’s revered hockey team. I pour two beers, then duck away from the crowd and hold a cup out to Hannah, who adamantly shakes her head.

“It’s a party, Wellsy. Won’t kill you to have one measly beer.”

“No,” she says firmly.

I shrug and take a sip of the watery alcohol. The beer is cheap as fuck, but that’s probably a good thing. Means there’s no chance of me getting wasted off this shit, not unless I drink a whole keg to myself.

As the kitchen empties out, Hannah leans against the counter and sighs. “I hate parties,” she says glumly.

“Maybe that’s because you refuse to drink,” I tease.

“Go ahead and bring on the prude jokes. I don’t mind.”

“I know you’re not a prude.” I wag my eyebrows. “A prude doesn’t kiss the way you do.”

Her cheeks redden. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’ve got a sexy tongue and you know how to use it.” Ah shit, wrong thing to say. Because now I’m hard. Luckily, my jeans are tight enough to keep my erection from tenting like an asshole.

“Sometimes I think you say things just to make me blush,” Hannah accuses.

“Nope. I’m just being honest.” A swell of voices wafts past the kitchen, and I find myself praying that nobody walks in. I like being alone with Hannah.

And even though there’s no reason to put on a show when we’re alone, I still move closer and sling one arm around her shoulder as I take another sip of water-beer.

“In all seriousness, why are you so anti-drinking?” I ask gruffly.

“I’m not anti-drinking.” She pauses. “I actually kind of like it. In moderation, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, rolling my eyes before reaching for the second cup I left on the counter. “Would you have a beer already?”

“No.”

I have to laugh. “You just said you liked it.”

“I don’t mind drinking in my room with Allie, but I never do it at parties.”

“Oh jeez. So you sit at home like a wino when you drink?”

“No.” She looks exasperated. “Just…drop it, will you?”

“Do I ever drop anything?”

Her exasperation turns to defeat. “Look, I get paranoid about what might be in my cup, all right?”

Insult prickles my skin. “For fuck’s sake, you think I’d roofie you?”

“No, of course not.”

Her swift response eases my concerns, but when she adds, “Not you, anyway,” it triggers my suspicion.

“Did…” I frown deeply. “Did that happen to you?”

Hannah’s face goes stricken for a beat, and then she slowly shakes her head. “It happened to a friend of mine in high school. She was drugged.”

My jaw falls open. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Someone slipped her GHB at a party…and, um…let’s just say it wasn’t a good night for her, okay?”

“Oh shit. That’s all kinds of fucked up. Was she okay?”