With her vertebrae resting against the wall, Paige sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest as she watched Mariah get ready for her night out.
An evening in alone, thinking about Logan, might kill her. As Mariah slipped on a pair of black leather boot stilettos, an idea hit Paige, and she spoke before she could stop herself.
“Hey, can I come with you?”
Mariah paused and gaped at her. “What?”
Paige shrugged. Hadn’t she been the one to tell her father he needed to get out and meet people? Well, maybe she should listen to her own advice. And what if Logan was there, designated driving again? Maybe she could catch a peek of him.
She quickly dismissed the idea. Grr. She was supposed to be avoiding him. That was why she wanted to go tonight. To block out his memory with more guys, like Mariah had said. He probably wouldn’t be there, anyway; he couldn’t attend every party. Besides, if she wasn’t scheduled to work at The Squeeze, that meant he undoubtedly was.
“Are you serious?” Mariah demanded.
“Only if you have something I can borrow to wear.” Thank goodness Tess’s vomit had laundered out of the last dress Mariah had loaned her. Her roommate had no idea how close it had come to being ruined.
A proud grin splitting her face, Mariah rubbed her hands together with relish. “Oh, have I ever.”
The party was loud and rowdy and took Paige’s mind off pretty much everything. Mariah ditched her the moment they arrived. Reggie appeared, greeted Paige with a grin and a quick hug, and then he whisked Mariah away.
She meandered through the different rooms, surprised at how similar the only two fraternity houses she’d ever been inside were to each other. Spotting Logan nowhere, she relaxed a little even as she tensed more, not sure how to engage anyone in a conversation.
Not that she had to worry about that.
A large form loomed in front of her, hazel eyes glittering with approval as the behemoth grinned and checked her out from head to toe. “Hey, I’m Dorian.”
She nodded. “I know. I’ve seen you play football.”
The star quarterback of Granton’s football team brightened. “Have you? And what’d you think?”
They’d lost the one game she had attended with Tess and Bailey, and Dorian Wade had thrown two interceptions along with getting sacked four times. Not wanting to hurt his feeling, she nodded and smiled politely. “It was fun.”
His gaze slid back down Mariah’s outfit. The emerald dress hugged her frame like a second skin and the spaghetti straps barely held her bust up. Self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, she wiggled her fingers at her sides. Why couldn’t he just look her in the eyes?
“Ever had a Jell-O shot?” he asked, finally lifting his gaze.
She shook her head. He grinned and wrapped a meaty hand around her elbow. “We got a bunch in this other room here. Strawberry flavored.”
Her taste buds despised beer; the rotten barley scent of it reminded her too much of her father. But strawberry flavor she might be able to handle. And she could do with a little bit of liquid courage at the moment. Tess had seemed pleasantly happy after doing Jell-O shots with Dorian Wade—before she’d gotten violently ill, anyway. Paige just wouldn’t let herself drink that much.
As soon as he led her into another room and ordered a round of shots, everyone around her cheered and about five co-eds scurried forward to offer her tiny plastic cups of red Jell-O.
With a shy smile, she accepted from one of them. Dorian took another. They faced each other, and she tried to drink hers as if it was a liquid, getting nowhere.
“No, honey.” Dorian laughed and took the shot from her hand. “Here, like this.” He slowly demonstrated the proper procedure by wrinkling the bottom of the cup to dislodge the gelatin. “Then you wrap your entire mouth around the rim and suck it out with your tongue.”
He brought it to her lips, and she opened her mouth, trying his suggestion. He moved in closer beside her, his chest brushing her bare arm. A warm hand settled on her lower back as he leaned in to watch her in action.
She flushed but wiggled her tongue into the small shot cup and sucked out as much Jell-O as possible.
“That’s more like it.” He grinned.
The helpful co-eds cheered her on and offered her another. Since it tasted just like strawberry gelatin, as Dorian had said it would, she took one. Vaguely she wondered how many Tess had swallowed until she’d gotten as drunk as she’d been. But it didn’t really matter. Paige would stop as soon as she began to feel the effects.
Two shots later, she found herself sitting on a couch with four guys, Dorian among them, and turning down a fourth.
Dorian tugged on her hand. “I love this song. Let’s dance.”
She nodded and let him pull her to her feet. But the music was too loud and the gyrating bodies were too crowded for her to move much. Plus all the active people crammed into the room exuded a humid heat that made the Jell-O in her stomach gurgle in a nauseating way.
Leaning up into Dorian’s ear, she called, “I think I hit my limit.”
He must’ve thought she meant alcohol-wise and not dancing-wise because he gave her a strange look before his mouth tipped into a big smile.
“Want to get out of here?” he called back.
She nodded, so he took her hand and led her through the horde. Once they reached the back door and stepped outside, she sucked in the cool January air. Though she wished they could’ve stopped to grab her coat, she welcomed the much-needed space.
Instead of stopping just outside the door, he led her around an outbuilding that abutted the fraternity house to an open area that held a fire pit and a couple of picnic tables. Tiled with cobblestones, the clearing was undoubtedly a popular spot in the warmer months. But tonight it stood deserted.
“Brr.” She hugged herself and rubbed her bare arms briskly.
“Cold?” Dorian shifted closer. “Here, let me help with that.” With a smile, he tugged her to him and wrapped his arms around her. Heat poured off his large body, and she soaked it up gratefully, burrowing closer to him.
He chuckled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Better?”
She sighed. “Lots.” Closing her eyes, she focused on the generous warmth he was sharing. “Though I always thought quarterbacks were a lot smaller than you.”
Laughing again, he nuzzled his nose against her hair. “They tried to make me a lineman my first year I tried out, but I was so good at throwing the ball, I became the quarterback.”
“Hmm.” She could fall asleep like this. It was so cold, and he was so warm.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured in her ear.
She didn’t say anything. It had been far too long since she’d kissed anyone. When he tilted her chin up, she let him. She wanted to see if he could make her heart race like a certain other person she didn’t want to think about.
His mouth was pleasant enough, and she definitely wasn’t repulsed. But he seemed to like to take control, which was a little unsettling right out of the gate. After she let him open her mouth, he became even more enthusiastic and backed her against the wall of the outbuilding until they were framed by the ivy growing up the vinyl siding. And it didn’t shoot a single spark of chemistry through her.
Depressing.
But maybe if she imagined he was Logan…
Just thinking that name launched a bolt of heat straight down the center of her spine. She moaned, and a hand began to wander up from her waist, cupping her where she didn’t let just anyone cup her, especially on the first kiss.
She broke her mouth away from his. “Okay, that’s enough.” She nudged him in the chest to get him to step back.
He didn’t. If anything, he moved in closer, trapping her more firmly against the wall.
Paige frowned. That was not how he was supposed to respond.
“Stop.” When she shoved against him again, he caught her hand and tugged it close, wrapping his fingers securely around her wri
sts, imprisoning her. She didn’t like that and frowned her disfavor. “Dorian. Stop. I said stop.”
He grinned smugly. “But we’re just getting started.”
Dipping back in, he kissed her neck, giving the sensitive skin a sharp, painful nip with his teeth just as his hand caught the hem of her dress and started working its way up.
Startled by his audacity, she lurched so violently in his arms she was able to dislodge him enough for her to gain a bit of breathing space.
As soon as she slipped out from between him and wall, she took off running, but tripped in the heels she’d borrowed from Mariah. She got another awkward fumbling step away before a big meaty hand hooked her around the waist.
“Hey!” She flailed in his arms as he picked her up off the ground. “Dorian. This isn’t funny. Let me go.”
“Not until I’m finished with you.”
He spun her around, the vertigo catching her unaware. The wall he shoved her into smacked her hard and fast in the face, cutting her scream short. Sharp pain spiked through her cheek and rattled her brain.
Dorian snickered as he pressed against her from behind, grinding roughly against her bottom. “Know what I like most about skirts?” he rasped into her ear, his breath sticky on the back of her neck. “Easy access.”
Panic gripped her. Fingers on the back of her legs tugged her dress up. She felt sick. She swallowed and tried not to lose the Jell-O shots she’d slugged down. “No,” she moaned. “Stop. Somebody help me!”
Dorian slapped his hand over her mouth. She couldn’t even bite him, he held her so hard. She tried to scream for help, but his fingers gagged her.
Bitter cold air rushed up her legs, letting her know he’d exposed her. Her panties tore next, but the sturdy waistband caught and held, keeping him from shredding them off her hips. He cursed under his breath, and she bucked and wiggled, making him lose his grip before he caught her again and tried once more to rip her underwear off.
Terrified tears stung her eyes. Her esophagus burned from the screams he trapped in her throat with his hand. She tried to swing her arms behind her to fight him off. She tried to lever her legs up and push from the wall in front of her. But the attempts were useless. She couldn’t even slam her skull back and hit him in the face; he held her head too firmly against his shoulder.
Just as the fabric of her panties began to tear, Dorian leaped backward away from her, releasing his grip. Relieved, she sank to the ground and shimmied her skirt back down over her thighs. Still in a crouch and not sure if she could stand on her shaking legs, she spun to face him, prepared to fight him off again…when she realized he hadn’t voluntarily left.
Someone had ripped him away. Her savior spun Dorian to face him, putting Dorian’s back to Paige, a split second before he reared his fist back and cracked the star quarterback in the jaw.
From her huddle on the cobblestones, Paige couldn’t see her hero’s face…until Dorian crumpled, revealing a livid Logan Xander, decked out in his bright red Designated Driver shirt.
She gasped as he reached down and picked Dorian up again by the front of his shirt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SO FURIOUS THAT HE SHOOK, physically shook, Logan jerked Paige’s attacker off the ground, manually picking him back up by his shirtfront.
Glancing over Dorian’s shoulder, Logan checked on Paige. The tears streaming down her cheeks gave her raccoon eyes while a red smudge rimmed the corner of her lip. And one side of her face—the opposite side of her already bruised cheek—looked significantly darker than the other, as if she’d been hit or slapped. Huddled on the ground, she fumbled to yank up the broken strap of her dress, covering herself.
When a terrified hiccup escaped her, he saw red. Literally. A red haze of anger clouded his vision. Returning his attention to Dorian, he saw the bleeding man in nothing but shades of crimson.
“You need to leave. Now.”
Gripping his nose with his hand, Dorian Wade didn’t leave. He snarled and shoved Logan. “Who ’da fuck do you think you are, hitting me?” When he focused on the red shirt in front of him, he slurred, “Oh, hell no. Designated Dave is not going to kick my ass.”
He swung but missed when Logan ducked out of his way. Then the drunk idiot came back for more. When one of his swings was lucky enough to catch Logan in the temple, Logan reared his elbow back and punched forward. The satisfying crunch of knuckle into jaw actually sounded good to his ear.
But it caused Dorian’s head to snap back and his legs to go limp. Behind him, Paige screamed as Dorian slumped to the ground.
And didn’t stir.
He blinked at the unmoving body, reality seizing him. A flicker of Trace Zukowski’s dead eyes staring up at him as he lay crumbled in nearly the same limp position.
“Oh, God.” He rasped a terrified curse, and spun around to face Paige when her soft hand touched his elbow. “Is he dead?”
She shivered without answering and didn’t take her horrified stare off Dorian’s crumpled form.
Logan broke away and dropped to his knees in front of a potted plant, where he emptied his stomach.
“Hey, what just happened?” someone asked from behind him.
“Dude, I think Designated Dave just beat the shit out of Dorian Wade.”
“Paige? Oh my God, Paige. Are you okay? What happened?”
“What’s going on out here?”
When Logan stopped vomiting, he sat back on his haunches to find the small backyard patio packed with people. Looking for Paige in the crowd, he found her with her roommate as Mariah corralled her back toward the house. Then he checked on Dorian just as one of the onlookers finally darted forward and knelt beside the prone quarterback.
He held his breath, waiting, ready to learn he’d killed again, when Dorian groaned and rolled onto his side, curling into the fetal position to hug his ribs. Logan exhaled, so relieved he almost passed out. He slumped onto a picnic table bench and cupped his head in his hands.
Time passed, but he wasn’t sure how long. No one approached him, and he didn’t want to be approached. When someone shouted, “Campus police is here! Who called the cops?” he lifted his face and stood up.
He watched dispassionately as a receiver for the football team helped a barely conscious Dorian stand upright as he spoke to a pair of uniformed men. When he turned and pointed at Logan, Logan braced himself, wondering if he was going to spend the night in jail for assaulting the star quarterback.
The two officers approached him, their stern expressions masked with disapproval. Dazed that this was happening again, he answered their questions, gave his account, and kept glancing around for Paige. When he realized he wasn’t going to be incarcerated, he lost a little of his patience.
“Have you talked to the girl yet?” he had to ask in the middle of his interrogation. “Is she okay?”
One officer nodded. “She’s fine. A little shaken. Her roommate’s already taken her back to her dormitory.”
Logan nodded, slightly relieved. “Is Wade going to jail?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he glanced across the crowd where a group of fraternity guys were trying to take care of Dorian as they helped him stumble inside.
Both cops paused and shared a look. That would be a no, Logan decided. Their precious quarterback would not be going to jail.
“He was going to rape her, you know. If I hadn’t showed up, he—he wasn’t going to stop, no matter how much she resisted.” God, just thinking about the possibilities of what could have happened made him vibrate with fury all over again.
“We’re aware the two had a slight misunderstanding.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. He was surprised he didn’t crack a couple teeth he gnashed them together so hard. “Misunderstanding?” He’d seen no such thing. Paige had been screaming behind the hand over her mouth, and Wade had been—
Probably shouldn’t let himself think about that again.
“Miss Zukowski realizes Wade had no intention of hurting her, and Mr. Wade r
ealizes he scared her needlessly. She didn’t press charges, so there’s no need for anyone to go to jail.”
Logan just stared at them, disbelieving, wondering if she’d really said that or if they’d even talked to her. It seemed incomprehensible that there would be no justice for Paige. Had they not seen the trembling tears in her eyes, the way she’d shaken with fear, the torn strap of her dress, the fresh marks on her already bruised face?
“Can I go, then?” he growled, wanting to be as far away from this party and these people as he could possibly get.
“Not just yet. We’ve got a couple more questions, Mr. Xander.” The two officers closed in on him as if they were about to apprehend him. “It’s been brought to our attention that you’re known for brawling where you come from. That a death actually occurred from one of your high school scrapes.”
So, someone from the grief group had talked, huh? He should’ve expected that, but for some reason, the news caught him off guard.
“Yeah?” He rumbled out his answer, glaring at both cops, daring them to cuff him.
“We don’t want that kind of reputation here at Granton. If we learn of you getting into any more fights, for any reason, you’re out of here. And we don’t just mean out of the party. Got it?”
A tremor of fear shivered up his spine. Kicked out of school for preventing a rape? Yeah, he got it. With a silent nod, he brushed past them, no longer caring if they had any more questions.
They didn’t call him back, so he figured they were done “warning” him.
He wanted to howl at the moon, beat on his chest, do something savage and primal. The campus cops could intimidate him as much as they liked. He deserved a little dirt. But no punishment for Paige’s attacker made him seethe.
Paige left her coat at the fraternity house. She didn’t even notice the cold until Grammar Hall and the promise of a safe haven came into view. Then she finally started to shiver.
Keeping stride beside her, Mariah cast her a quick, assessing glance. “Almost there,” she said.