Page 184 of Filthy Elites

I grab the bottle from her and take two gulps. “Tastes pretty fucking good.”

She shakes her head; the shadows highlighting her cheekbones. When it’s just the two of us together, she drops the male bravado and it’s easy to tell she’s a girl. “You’re…” she starts but stops.

“What?” I take another, smaller swallow.

“Wild. Fearless.” She looks at me from under those long eyelashes. “Fun when you’re not being scary.”

My heart thuds from the adrenaline of the night—from the booze. I lean toward her and run my fingers through the stubble just over her ear. Her nervous spot. “You think I’m scary?”

She doesn’t respond, and I continue rubbing my fingers over the soft fuzz. I can smell the whisky on her breath. See the plump swell of her bottom lip from where she’s been worrying it with her teeth. The urge to kiss her, lick my way into her mouth is all-consuming. It’sstupid. She tenses, reaching up to toy with the pledge button on her shirt. I drop my hand and pull back.

“Seeing you flash your tits all over Whittmore was unexpected. Good, but unexpected.” I take one more sip and screw back on the top. “But you’re more fun than I thought you’d be.”

I pop open the door and when I get to the front of the car she meets me, backpack over her shoulder. I take the liquor loaded pack from her and sling it over my shoulder.

The party unfolds in front of us, the goats that successfully returned and all the brothers. Oh, and girls, a busload of them, all in string bikini tops and short shorts, have been brought from campus. Otherwise, what’s the point?

“Forty-seven,” Knox says, voice a roar over the music and surf. “How’d you do?”

“She—he—killed it.”Fuck!Reagan stiffens next to me, and I shove the bag at Knox, hoping he didn’t catch my slip.

He gives me a weird look, but opens the bag and pulls out a bottle, nodding when he sees the brand. “Good job.” He peers in again. “Wait. There are only four bottles in here.”

“Oh, right,” I say, pulling the fifth out of my back pocket. It’s half full. “I may have started early.”

I needed something to calm my dick down with this hot, unexpected girl next to me all night.

Knox nods. “Add it to the pile and celebrate.” He then grins widely at Reagan. “You’re one day closer, dude.”

Another goat shows up with his booty, and Knox returns the bag before heading over to check. When he’s far enough away, Reagan punches me in the arm and hisses, “What the fuck, Hansen, you almost blew my cover.”

I shrug. “I guess the sight of your tits multiple times tonight threw me off.”

Even in the dim light, I can see her cheeks turn pink and I wonder how far that color travels down her body. The thought of seeing her naked, feeling her, sets my own body on fire. I pull out my half-drunk bottle of whiskey and unscrew the cap. I swallow a huge gulp and relish the burn spreads through my body. If we were back at the farm, I could command her to go back to my room and work off this boner. But we’re out in the open—dozens of brothers and recruits around. Everyone here thinks she’s a guy.

I’m stuck with a hard-on and a belly full of liquor.

I scan the area and see a group of freshly minted sorority girls on the other side of the bonfire. Those are the girls I’m looking for.

The bottles clink together when I shove the bag at Reagan. “Go put those with the others and have a good time. You earned it.” She clutches the bag but doesn’t move. I stare at those red lips and swallow down another gulp. “Go.”

“Thanks,” she says, “for helping me through that.” She spreads her arms. “All of it, really.”

My jaw clenches and I remind myself she’s just a goat, a fake one at that, one that’s a means to an end. “Don’tthank me,” I tell her. “Get the fuck out of here.”

If I’ve hurt her feelings, she’s gotten better at hiding it. I cut my eyes away as she heads over to the bar.

When her back is turned, I look at her again, knowing a tight ass is hiding under those baggy jeans. It’s harder this time to drag my eyes away, but I shift my focus on the sweet things across the sand, prepared to do whatever it takes to get Reagan Lake out of my mind.

SEVENTEEN

Reagan

After handing over the bottles to Rat behind the bar, I pick up one of the already poured cups and take a small sip. Gah. Awful.

“That’s quite the haul, forty-seven.”

I brace myself before I turn to face Royer. He’s leaning against the makeshift bar, reading the label on one of the bottles. The clerk was so stunned at me flashing him that he’d handed over a bottle of top shelf without realizing it.

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