Chapter Fifteen Saylor #2
Probably one of my worst weaknesses was my inability to resist a challenge, especially since it usually led me into some crazy situation like the one I’d just committed to.
After we shook on the bet, Cash casually slid his arm around me, pulling me tight against his side and leaving me with no choice but to slide my arm around his waist. He couldn’t have staked his claim on me more loudly if he’d taken out a neon billboard in the middle of campus.
His actions should have ticked me off, but instead, to my shock, I let myself relax enough to cuddle closer to him. Outwardly, he gave no sign he noticed, but when I sneaked a peek at his handsome chiseled features, I caught the barest crinkle at the corner of his eye.
One of the myriad reasons I had no interest in committing to a relationship with someone—aside from my desperate desire to follow my own dreams uninhibited—was I had yet to meet a man who set my world on fire in the bedroom.
While I liked men and had experienced decent, satisfying sex, I’d never been with anyone who made me crave more than a one-night stand.
That’s not to say I hadn’t dated guys and given them a chance over time, because I had.
The Lambda Sig I met freshman year had lasted a couple of months, and Jesse who played club lacrosse had been fun for a while over the summer after freshman year.
The near miss sophomore year of dating Phil from the film cohort two years ahead of me had taught me not to date someone in my field.
And Jeremiah Fitzgerald, who’d played nose tackle for the ’Cats, had rocked my world intellectually and flirtatiously, but we’d had zero chemistry.
Yet something in my lizard brain alerted me to the fact that Cash Donovan would be nothing like anyone else I’d been with.
Part of me wanted to find out what would happen between us, with the way his kisses left me breathless.
The first ones had lingered in my mind for months after that interlude in the hallway of the SCR house.
Ghostly tingles from the recent kisses from our date on Thursday night still zinged my lips whenever I let myself think about them, which I’d been desperately trying not to do.
Now here I was, entangled in an internal tug-of-war over a silly bet. On the one hand, I wanted to go home with him, see if he could deliver on the promise of his kisses. On the other hand, I was kind of terrified of what would happen if he did deliver on the promise of those kisses.
“Come on girls! That’s it. Show these boys who’s boss,” I cheered, while beside me Cash called out, “Get it, boys. Let’s go!”
When the last cup was flipped, the track team threw up their hands in victory while the football players sagged in defeat before manning up to take their loss in the form of shots of bottom-shelf bourbon.
Grinning impishly up at Cash, I said, “Time for your song, big guy.”
With a groan he tossed back what was left of his beer and shot a glare at his teammates. “I thought you guys knew what you were doing. Thanks a lot.”
Dalton, one of the winners from the first round, said, “No shame in losing to these ladies. If a flip-cup circuit existed, they’d be national champs.” He grinned and saluted the women across the table. “We knew going in that this was going to be a match.”
“Yeah? Wish someone would have clued me in,” Cash grumbled, but he didn’t sound too put out.
“Why’s that?” Dalton asked.
“Because I lost a bet, and Saylor is insisting on collecting now while I’m still mostly sober.” The sigh that gusted from him sounded like it had started in his toes.
“What did you bet?”
“I win, he sings.” I stepped out of the circle of Cash’s arm and took his hand, tugging him toward the doorway into the living room.
“Cash is singing?” Dalton’s eyes rounded. “Oh yeah. This I gotta hear. What do you have to sing?”
Cash growled something low in his throat.
“What was that? I didn’t catch it,” I said, not bothering to hide my glee.
“‘Barbie Girl.’”
Though I’d been contemplating what it would be like to make good on my side of the bet, now I couldn’t wait to watch Cash pay up. It wasn’t that I wanted to humiliate him so much as to make the stakes more even. The gleam in his eye said he was going to make me pay no matter what.
A few minutes later, the football players and track athletes who’d been playing flip-cup were all gathered in the living room, courtesy of Dalton’s big mouth.
Cash didn’t even hesitate, striding confidently across the room to the DJ—a hot Black guy I’d heard at a party at Tarvi’s place who was trying to hone his skills to move up to the big-time in Denver or Vegas.
Their conversation took place with their dark heads together and then the DJ’s head came up with a megawatt grin.
Stopping the tunes in the middle of a beat, the DJ’s glee came through as he spoke into the mic. “It seems our newest Wildcat lost a bet, and now he has to pay up. Please enjoy Cash Donovan’s version of ‘Barbie Girl.’”
The DJ cued up a screen I hadn’t noticed among his array of equipment.
From the looks of it, he was prepared to spin discs and provide karaoke as the words to the song flowed across the screen.
Cash grabbed the microphone and started singing.
While he’d never get a chair turn on The Voice, he could carry a tune.
Not that it mattered. He launched into the song as though he owned it, and when he started rolling his hips in half-speed with the rhythm of the words, more than one girl pushed her way to the front of the crowd.
On the chorus he lifted his T-shirt enough to show off his six-pack—a view I’d had for hours on Thursday evening and couldn’t erase from my head.
Chants of, “Take it off!” threatened to drown out his singing, but his eyes remained steady on me, their heat warming me to my core from where I stood in front of him.
Damn the man for being so freaking sexy. His moves made me think about entirely inappropriate things, like maybe I should have been cheering harder for the football players back in the dining room.
When the song ended, he gave an exaggerated bow and then said something to the DJ that made him laugh again as he returned the mic. A group of girls surrounded him, and suddenly, I wanted to be sick, my stomach roiling like I’d drunk half the keg or something.
WTF?
No way in hell was I jealous. Nope. Nope.
Nope. I’d have to care about him to be jealous, and while I’d truly enjoyed our date, it was one date.
Nothing to see here. When he caught my eye above the throng of groupies he’d spontaneously collected with those dance moves, I saluted him with my cup and turned on my heel to head to the kitchen for a refill.
And maybe to pull my head out of my ass.
Seriously, no way was I jealous, especially not of other women’s attention to a football player.
I’d sworn I’d never involve myself with someone who could derail my dreams. Cash Donovan had absolutely zero hold on my emotions.
Dally grinned at me as he refilled my cup. “Please tell me you had something to do with what just went down in there.” He motioned toward the living room.
I gave an exaggerated roll of my shoulders. “What can I say? Dalton warned him I’m good at playing poker.”
Heat blanketed my back as I tipped back a sip of beer, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing so close.
“You enjoy the show, Saylor?”