“I’m not worried. Briar’s got this.” She shrugs carelessly. “With that said, I’m heading home now. Have a good night, Connelly.”

A peculiar pang of disappointment tugs at my gut. I want her to stay. That’s so fucked up.

I shift my gaze to the stage, where Danny’s still engaged in conversation. “I’ll walk you out,” I offer.

“Completely unnecessary. I don’t need an escort.” She pats my arm. “Good night, Jakey.”

Despite her dismissal, I follow her.

“I told you, I don’t need an escort.”

“Yeah, you did tell me that.”

She stops at the bar and hands the waiter a twenty-dollar bill. “That should cover his beer, too.” She glances over her shoulder. “Say thank you to your sugar mama, Jakey.”

“Thank you.” I flash an overly lascivious grin. “Daddy loves it when you take care of him.”

Brenna sighs. “I hate you.”

I trail after her toward the narrow stairwell. “Nah, you don’t hate me,” I argue.

The club is on the lower level of the building, so we have to climb one flight to get upstairs. Brenna goes ahead of me, which places her ass about two inches from my face. I nearly choke on my own tongue. Christ. I can practically see up her dress.

When we reach the landing, I stop her by resting my hand on her shoulder. “You like me,” I inform her.

She slowly appraises me. “On the contrary. I think you like me.”

I shrug. “You’re all right.”

A smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “Nuh-uh, you think I’m more than all right. You’ve got a case of the Jensens.”

“Come on now. That’s just crazy talk.”

“So you’re saying if I asked you to go home with me right now, you’d say no?” She licks her lips, those sexy red lips, and moves closer.

I lick my lips, too. “I’d say no.”

Still smiling, she comes even closer. Backing me to the wall, inch by inch, until her warm, slender body is pressed up against mine and the top of her head is tickling my chin.

“I think you’d say yes,” she whispers. She glides her hands up my chest and plants them over my collarbone.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you really believe I’m going to fall for this trick? I saw you pull this on Chilton last night, remember? And I’m not as dumb as he is.”

“You’re a man. All men are dumb.” Brenna peers up at me, and damned if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s bold and fierce, and those qualities combined with her beauty make her a force to be reckoned with.

And yet…I don’t miss the way her pulse throbs in the center of her throat. Or how she’s breathing a bit faster. She’s not unshakeable, this girl. I have the power to shake her up.

“You talk a big game, babe. But if I called your bluff, I think you’d be running out the door.”

“Who’s bluffing?”

“You are. I think all you do is bluff.” I rest my hand on her hip. My grip is loose, careless almost, but it’s a very deliberate touch and it gets the desired response.

Heat flares in her eyes.

“If I take my hand and slide it under your dress, what would I find?” I rasp.

The question is meant to shake her, but it fucks me right up, too. I’m rock-hard now. I love games like this, the dirty ones where you tease and toy and dare each other until something gives. Until someone breaks.

“What would I find?” I repeat. Ever so slightly, my fingers shift downward to play with the hem of her incredibly short dress.

Brenna doesn’t break eye contact. “You’d find me dry as a desert.”

“Mmmm. Doubt it. I think I’d find you ready for me.” I tug on the stretchy material, finding the spot where it meets her flesh. I rub my thumb over her thigh and enjoy the way her lips part. “What do you say? Should we test my hypothesis?”

Our gazes lock. I brush my knuckles over her skin again. It’s impossibly soft, and I’m painfully hard. My cock is a hot spike in my jeans. And then it starts to vibrate.

Rather, my phone does. But it’s lodged in my pocket and in such close proximity to my aching dick that the vibrations actually make me shudder with pleasure.

“You gonna get that?” Brenna asks knowingly. Her body is still flush to mine, palms flat on my chest, and I’m sure she feels the erection pressing against her belly.

“No. I’m busy.” My hand is still under her dress, inches from paradise.

She jerks suddenly, before reaching into the small purse hanging off her shoulder. Both our phones going off at once? That could only mean one thing…

I drop my hand from her thigh. I have my phone out first, scanning the array of messages that were responsible for all the vibrating. Brenna checks her notifications and releases a victorious squeal that bounces off the black walls in the cramped stairwell.

“Yes,” she exclaims. “Fucking yes!”

I grudgingly meet her gaze. “Congratulations.” Briar beat Yale in overtime. Winning goal courtesy of Nate Rhodes, the team captain.

Brenna’s smile lights up her entire face. Then it becomes a smug curve, more smirk than smile, before settling into a wicked grin of challenge.

“So. I guess we’ll be seeing you in the finals.”

10

Brenna

Despite Briar’s victory over Yale, I’m still disappointed with how the weekend turned out. I got home around midnight, courtesy of an obscenely expensive Uber ride, and woke up this morning to about ten texts and three voicemails from Tansy apologizing profusely and begging for my forgiveness. I texted back to say I require at least a full month of groveling before I can grant my complete forgiveness, but since it’s hard for me to stay mad at the people I love, I told her we’re good and that she owes me a girls’ weekend.

Now I’m having Sunday brunch with Summer at the diner, where I fill her in on the weekend from hell. Leaving out the parts involving Jake Connelly, obviously. Summer would snatch onto those bits like a dog with a bone. Except unlike the dog, who’d eventually drop the bone or go bury it somewhere, Summer would discuss and dissect every detail of my Connelly encounters until the end of eternity.

“I’m sorry, but your cousin sounds like a total bitch,” Summer says as she munches on a strip of bacon. Her golden hair is arranged in a messy braid, hanging over the shoulder of her white cashmere sweater. She isn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, and doesn’t need it. Summer Heyward-Di Laurentis is disgustingly stunning. Ditto for her older brother, Dean. The two of them resemble Ken and Barbie, although Summer hates being called the latter. So of course, I do it just to piss her off.

“Eh, she’s really not,” I answer, referring to my cousin. “But she sure acted like one this weekend.”

“She ditched you both nights? That’s savage.”

“Well, we were together the first night. Kind of. She and her boyfriend got into an epic fight, so I spent most of the time hanging out with his friends.”

I skip what came before that—my ambush of Connelly and his teammates at the dive bar. And I don’t even dare bring up the concert. I easily could, without mentioning Jake’s role in it, but I’m afraid I might slip and reveal something I shouldn’t.