He’s so damn sure he’s getting laid tonight. It’s almost cute. “G lot, you said?”
We walk the rest of the way in silence and I keep a constant watch around us, darting around from face-to-face for anyone that might know my father.
Junior’s car sits in the corner of G lot and I start to relax more and more with each step we take from the high-populated campus hangouts.
I pause as we approach the vehicle, genuinely wondering whether or not he’s messing with me. It’s an old, white mini-van.
“This is your car?”
Junior grins. “You’re definitely new around here if you’ve never heard of the Junior-mobile.”
I blink. “The Junior-mobile?”
“I didn’t name it,” he claims. “The team did.”
“And what’s so special about the Junior-mobile?”
He grabs the side door and slides it open. “Take a look.”
I step closer, instantly noticing the lack of seats inside. It’s been completely modified, leaving the front seats intact but everything else has been stripped out and replaced with an air mattress on the floor — along with a few thick pillows and a wrinkled comforter. The windows are tinted, and I notice a string of soft, blue lights pinned to the ceiling to set the mood.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting in this thing!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m clean and I want to keep it that way. God knows what diseases are lingering all over the walls…”
“It’s perfectly safe and clean… just like me, by the way.”
“Doubtful.”
“Play your cards right and you’ll be the first classy lady to grace the backseat this semester.”
I feign a gasp. “The great Junior Morgan hasn’t gotten laid yet this semester?”
“I didn’t say that. I said you’d be the first one in the backseat.”
I cross my arms and lean against the open door. “So, how does this whole player persona work for you?”
“Player persona?”
“Yeah,” I continue. “You pick out a girl, drag her to the old Junior-mobile, score a touchdown or two, and then what? Sayonara, lady? Hope we don’t randomly bump into each other again?”
“You sound surprised, Ellie,” he notes. “I thought all of us were dirty, cheating, lying scoundrels.”
“Don’t you ever feel bad about it?”
“I’ve never been dishonest to a girl to get her in here,” he says. “I’ve never led anyone on, made a promise I didn’t keep, or done anything particularly shady to get laid. I make it clear from the beginning what I want, and I’ve done the same with you.”
“Is that all this is?” I ask. “After tonight, you’re just hoping to scratch another notch into your floorboards?”
Junior chews on his bottom lip. “Honestly, yes.”
I scoff and push off the door, unable to hide my disgust. “Wow…”
“Ellie…” He takes a step forward. “Don’t even pretend like you’re not interested.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
He drifts in so close, I start to smell his cologne again. I ease back but quickly find myself leaning against the van, struggling inside between smacking him or accidentally stumbling inside.
“I’ll tell you what…” he says, “I’ll give you another shot to tell me to fuck off. Then, you can leave, and I’ll never bother you again. Cross my heart. But…” He places his hands on the van door, pinning me to it just like he pinned me to the lockers and a rush of heat strikes my core. “If there is any chance at all that you want me as much as I want you, then you’ll get in the van and we’ll continue our little date like normal. Don’t lie. I can tell.”
My eyes fall down his body, drawn to his groin as if I’ll see his cock again; hard and throbbing for me. I close them, embracing the darkness as I feel him drift closer.
“Ellie…”
Holy shit. I love the way he says that.
“… say you’ll stay. With me.”
His lips graze my cheek, angling close to my mouth but they never quite connect, leaving a hair’s distance between us.
This fucking guy. He’s baiting me and it’s working, but I don’t want to be just another notch in Junior Morgan’s dirty van floorboards.
The bitch of it is that I don’t want to leave either. I want that cock from earlier; the one I touched and fantasized about. I want to watch his tattooed body towering over me, thrusting me into oblivion while I cry out in blissful agony and a man like him knows exactly how to make that happen.
But I’ve spent my whole life as the daughter of a narcissistic womanizer. I won’t be taken advantage of one now.
I open my eyes and look into his, watching as his pupils twitch in anticipation of my response.
“Let’s go,” I say, shifting away from his touch and walking around the van to get into the passenger’s seat.
You want to fuck me, Junior Morgan?
You’re going to have to earn it first.
“Why are you here?” Junior asks me.
I glance over at him, wrinkling my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a transfer student, right?” He takes his eyes off the road for a split second to look at me. “You’re new and you’re taking three-hundred level courses.”
“Ahh.” I nod. “Welcome to the glorious world of P.R. representatives.”
He pauses in confusion. “What?”
“When my dad decided he wanted to become a coach, his public relations guy told him he should revamp his entire image,” I explain. “That meant shifting away from his old, immature, manwhoring ways and embracing a more family-friendly lifestyle to gain good press when his new job went public.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“Well, you can’t be family-friendly without a family,” I say. “He contacted me — or more accurately, his P.R. rep contacted me — and offered me a deal. If I came to live with him, pose nice for photos, and act the doting daughter, then Dad would continue paying for my education.”
Junior pauses, shifting his attention back to the road ahead. “I guess that’s why he doesn’t want you involved with the team…”
“It could cause unnecessary drama, as he claims,” I confirm. Junior chuckles and I turn toward him. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he says. “It’s just so strange that we’re talking about Cary Pierce right now. I have Cary Pierce’s daughter in my van.”
“Why is that strange?”
“I mean… he’s your dad, you’re used to knowing him. But me? I had a damn poster of the guy on my bedroom wall as a kid and now he’s my coach. It’s a bit… strange.”
I laugh. “I guess I get that.” I shift in my seat, leaning around to face him. “Why did you want to go out with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, most guys who ask me out just want to meet my dad,” I explain. “You’ve already met him.”