Chapter 3: Sam

"Dude, I'm curious-when was the last time you got laid?" Dylan pauses for a beat before forging ahead with the conversation. "I'm being totally serious right now."

Sadly, I know he is.

Not bothering to answer, because doing so will only perpetuate the conversation, I glance around the Sigma party. It's as jam-packed and out of control as I suspected it would be. We're talking elbow to elbow crowd, music at an ear shattering decibel, a few games of strip beer pong already in progress, drinks galore from the makeshift bar, and-if my nose isn't deceiving me-a few bowls of pot being passed around. It isn't even ten yet, and this party is just getting started. Although, none of that stops me from zeroing in on Violet like a heat-seeking missile. Even though she's clear across the room, I keep my sights locked on her.

I hoist the beer to my lips and take a swig. "What? You keeping tabs on me or something?"

Because that's not creepy at all.

A knowing brow slides its way across his forehead. "I don't have to. You're coiled tighter than a freaking spring. It's obvious what your problem is. You need to get all that poison out. If you don't, it'll end up messing with your mojo on the field."

I nearly laugh at that.

Fucking poison?

Is he serious?

Stupid question-of course he is.

In an attempt to stifle any more questions or unsolicited advice regarding my current poison situation, I shoot Dylan a glare before my gaze bounces back to Violet.

And the asshat attempting to make moves on her.

Just look at him over there.

He's so damn close, he's practically mauling her. And watching him run his fingers up and down the curve of her cheek has me grinding my molars together in silent aggravation. Not a moment later, her lips curve upward before she laughs at whatever the hell he's yammering on about. She may be a good forty feet from me, but I can still tell she's got those damn fuck-me eyes going on.

Yeah...that's not going to happen on my watch.

"Uh oh," Dylan chuckles, "looks like it's time for you to run off another one."

My head snaps toward him.

Finally.

That's got to be the first sensible thing that's come out of his mouth all night. "You're abso-fucking-lutely right." I down the rest of my beer before shoving the empty plastic cup into Dylan's hand. "Good call." Unwilling to waste another minute, I clap him on the shoulder before taking off.

"Dude, I was freaking kidding! Get your pathetic ass back here before you embarrass yourself even further!"

I don't bother with a response. I think we both know it's too late for that. At this point, I'm a man on a mission. And that mission is to get the encroaching usurper away from my girl.

Whether she wants that is totally up for interpretation.

This isn't the first time I've run off some dude and it won't be the last. It's not like I don't understand the attraction. Violet Winterfield is gorgeous. She has long, thick blonde hair and big, whiskey-colored eyes fringed with dark lashes. I'm not even going to talk about the sweet little body she's rocking, because getting a woody at this point in the evening would only further solidify my pathetic status.

And I don't really need that.

My gaze sharpens on them. If I'm not mistaken, the guy looks to be making a move.

The move.

He's on the verge of leaning in and planting one right on her lips. He's inching closer and lowering his face. Her eyelids are feathering closed. People scurry out of my two-hundred-pound way as I barrel through. I have to consciously flex my hands because I want to punch that douchebag in the face for daring to touch what's mine.

Unfortunately, all that will do is piss off Violet. I've learned through trial and error that I can't come in all hot, ready to tear some guy limb from limb.

Nope.

I have to be more subtle than that. Trust me, it's a fine art I've perfected over the years. This guy won't realize what's happening until it's too late.

Some sixth sense must alert Violet to the fact that I'm on the move because her eyes widen as they ensnare mine right before I wedge my way between them, snaking an arm around her in the process.

As I do, everything in me settles. Violet's proximity has a way of doing that. It always has. My life can be a raging mess, but when I'm with her and she's in my arms or I'm just touching her, the world around us quiets to a barely perceptible hum.

It's more addictive than crack.

And I crave that stillness like nothing else.

With a lazy smile tilting my lips upward, I press a kiss against her temple before hauling her closer. With that simple action, I feel my pulse settle. Rational thought seeps its way back into my brain as my tense muscles release. And then I nearly swallow my tongue at the feel of her breast pressed against my T-shirt covered chest.

Damn. That gets me every freaking time.

At the moment, I'd give my left nut to toss her over my shoulder and take her back to my place so I can immerse myself in that gorgeous body of hers for a full, forty-eight hours. I don't even know if that would be enough time. I really don't. I've never wanted anyone the way I want her.

The way I need her.

But first things first.

"Hey, babe," I say.

Instead of waiting for Violet to respond, because I know damn well what kind of retort my greeting will elicit, I turn my attention toward the jack-wad whose jaw has slacken at my sudden arrival on the scene. It takes everything I have inside not to snort out a laugh. He looks confounded that the girl he was just hitting on is now in the arms of another dude.

He's blinking his eyes all slow-like as if he's trying to play mental catch up. You can almost see the gears in his head gradually shifting as he processes the fact that his odds of getting laid tonight just plummeted into the single digits. For a split-second, he looks ready to put up a fight before taking a good look at me. I flex my biceps so he won't get any foolish ideas that will end badly.

For him.

In all honesty, I might enjoy channeling some of the pent-up sexual frustration careening through my system by plowing my fist into this guy's face. Even though he isn't going to get laid tonight, neither am I.

His face transforms and I see the moment recognition dawns. "Harper, right?" He shifts his weight from one foot to the other before the irritated look disappears.

I give him an easy smile. "Yup, that's me."

"Dude," he shakes his head apologetically before jerking it toward a now frowning Violet who is still smashed up against my body, "I had no idea this was your chick." Rather hilariously, he shoots her a look rife with silent accusation. "She didn't say a word about it."

Since this is usually the part where Violet will offer up a protest, I tug her closer. "No worries." I smack another kiss against her head. If the low growling noise emanating from her is any indication, then my guess is that she's annoyed that I've managed to foil yet another hookup attempt on her part.

I can only grin evilly at that.

"What do you think your chances are against Miami Ohio this weekend?"

As her no-longer-going-to-happen one night stand questions me about the upcoming game, Violet slides an arm around me before snaking her hand beneath my T-shirt. Under different circumstances, her touch would be entirely welcome, except I know what she's up to. I steel myself as she pinches a chunk of my flesh between her forefinger and thumb before twisting it viciously.

Think massive titty twister minus the titty.

Fuuuuuck!

I hiss out a sharp breath as her fingers dig into me. I can only imagine the considerable damage she's doing to my body. "I think our chances of coming out of it with a win are solid. They're running a tough offense but there are some holes in their defensive game that we'll be able to exploit. Especially since they have a few guys out with injuries. We're operating at one hundred percent, and King is playing the best ball of his life."

By this point, the guy has all but forgotten about Violet as he continues to rapid-fire questions at me. He's talking stats, playoff picks, and bowl games. And hey, I love talking ball as much as the next guy, but Violet is clearly steaming. Not to mention, she's bruising the shit out of my skin.

When I can't take another moment of those brutal instruments of torture, I extricate us from the conversation. Luckily for me, Violet is more than ready to leave now that her evening has been thwarted. My arm is still wrapped around her. I'm thinking about attaching myself to her like a barnacle for the rest of the evening. That way no one else will get ideas in regard to her availability.

Leaning closer, I murmur in her ear, "You can stop pinching me now. I've saved you from the fumblings of that drunken idiot." I wait a heartbeat before adding, "You're welcome."

I know my comment will only crank her up. But I kind of enjoy when she gets all heated up. I like the way her eyes flash with fire and the pulse in her throat thrums. It's fucking hot.

Violet doesn't disappoint.