Page 1 of Total Shutdown

CHAPTERONE

October

SAWYER

She’s like a wild fucking animal.

“You gonna take this off or what?” she asks, although it’s more a demand.

A tear rips through the room, and one of the buttons on my white shirt pops off as she forcefully tugs it from my dark blue dress pants.

“You just ruined my shirt.”

She looks down between us, shrugging a nonchalant shoulder. “Eh, kind of makes this whole thing easier.”

Curling her fingers around each side of the collar, she pulls my shirt apart in one motion. More buttons cascade across my bedroom floor, bouncing underneath my dresser and bed frame.

Initially, I’m pissed, but when I notice the way her eyes land on my tattooed chest, my shirt now hanging open at the front, annoyance rapidly gives way to satisfaction.

“Like what you see, Collins?” I lean in to capture her mouth with mine.

She pulls back. “Hard line—too personal.”

Running a quick hand over my left pec, Collins stops when her fingernails brush the bar piercing my nipple. “Some of your ink could do with a retouch.” Her brown eyes find mine. “I guess that’s what happens when you get older. Everything kind of … fades.”

She plucks lightly at my piercing, and the sensation tents my pants further.

“I like this though.”

As I bring my hands to her black leather dress, I palm her ass—something I secretly did all night as we sat next to each other in the booth—and I squeeze it gently. “You’ll let me touch your ass, but not kiss you. You make no sense to me.”

Eyes sparkling, she wraps her arms around my neck, rising on her tiptoes since I have at least a foot on her. Her pretty heart-shaped face is so close that I can smell her peach-scented lip gloss.

“I don’t kiss anyone.”

This woman never ceases to amaze me. Since she’s the best friend of my starting center’s girl, Kendra, you’d think I’d know her a little better than I do. But countless postgame nights at our local hangout have left me with nothing more than what I can physically see with my eyes—wavy, shoulder-length light-pink hair; deep brown irises; sharp black eyeliner; and lashes that have to be fake because, fuck me, how can they not be? All her clothes are black; in fact, it’s the only color I ever see her wear. And I’m one hundred percent fucking sure that what lies beneath this hot-as-fuck mid-thigh dress is the tightest body I will ever touch.

Despite her previous comment, I wet my lips, and she smirks up at me in question.

“So, we gonna fuck or not?”

I roll my damp lips together, equally amused and turned on by her brash attitude. “You just want to use me, don’t you?”

She drops her hands from around my neck, settling them on my belt buckle. As she begins unlooping, I watch the crimson flush descend her chest—her low-cut dress can’t hide it or the delicious curve of her cleavage.

“What do you want, my life story? Last time I checked, it wasn’t a prerequisite for sex.” Her tone is a mixture of sultry and exasperated, and my cock twitches in response.

Jesus.

“I don’t even know your last name—you realize that, right?” I reply.

Ignoring my comment, she finishes on my belt and moves to my pants, unzipping and leaving them hanging open at the front.

As she takes a small step back, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, studying me.

“What?”

She shakes her head and reaches to her side. “Nothing. Your body is just better than I thought it would be. That’s all.”

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