Spring Fling: A New Adult Anthology

Equal amounts of excitement and nervousness knotted her stomach as she thought about stripping bare and putting herself in some random guy's hands. Of course if she had the choice, she'd rather not have a simple casual fling with someone she didn't know, considering there really was only one college boy she wanted—Mr. Bad Boy himself—but she'd long ago given up on him seeing her as anything more than his best friend's nerdy kid sister.

As she pushed that disheartening thought aside, and took in the hotties all around her, another bout of anxiety hit like a sucker punch. But she'd be damned if she was going to let a little apprehension stand in the way her of losing her virginity. She was a sophomore, for God's sake. Not only was her innocence and lack of experience embarrassing, she was dying to have orgasmic sex, the kind she'd longingly listened to her friends describe in blissful detail for the last year. Which was why she'd flown from her college town to the Big Easy during Spring Break. Here, where no one knew her as the too nerdy physics student, one who hot guys ignored, she could be anything or anyone she wanted, and finally seduce a man into her bed.

She turned quickly, nearly losing sight of her petite, agile friends as they cut a corner, and silently cursed under her breath when her long legs failed to keep up.

Her groans of annoyance turned into an unexpected moan of pleasure when a smoking hot guy bumped up against her, warming her body and punching her hormones into hyper drive.

"'Scuse me, chére," the guy said in a sexy Cajun accent that had her above average IQ dipping below the median and her pussy moistening with want. When sultry eyes met hers, she sucked in a quick breath to jump-start her brain, giving the hot guy standing before her a quick once-over.

A local. Sweet. The perfect guy to give her what she wanted before she returned to school, to the nerdy, rather lackluster life she led. Her head dipped, taking pleasure in his rock hard body and sun-kissed skin before her glance moved back to his face to admire chiseled features and full lips made for kissing. Her. Everywhere. Now.

Okay, Eva. This is your chance. Don't blow it.

Or rather, blow it!

Taller than average, she stood eye-to-eye with the dark-skinned hottie, her mind racing, desperate for something sexy to say, or at least something that sounded interesting and didn't involve her deep love of science. But as her brain stalled, some hot little number sidled up to him, went up on her toes, pressed her humongous breasts into his chest and whispered in his ear. He gave a deep laugh full of heat and promise, and when he wrapped his arm around the girl's waist to lead her away, Eva exhaled a heavy sigh, cursing herself for choking on her words with the first hot guy she came across.

What the heck happened to being anyone or anything she wanted?

Damn. Damn. Damn.

With her mind racing, Eva ran to catch up to her friends, thinking back to what that crazy fortune-teller from this morning had told her—she wasn't going to have sex with some random guy this week—or ever. It wasn't like she'd wanted to go see the clairvoyant or gave credence to anything she'd said, anyway. Eva believed in physics not psychics, and had only gone because her friends insisted on it.

Now, determined to prove to her friends that Madame Ysabeau was nothing but a fraud, and that she would have sex with a random guy, she glanced at the cute boys walking by her. Too bad they were completely oblivious to her presence.

Her best friend, Allison, reached out and snatched her hand. She gave a little tug and said, “Come on. Hurry up before all the hot ones are taken."

Eva quickened her pace, well, as much as she could with so many bodies slamming up against her, and followed Allison into a dimly lit dance club called Bourbon Heat. At least the name of the establishment sounded promising, considering what she had in mind tonight—bourbon and heat—and not necessarily in that order.

Mimicking her confident friend, Eva tugged down the neckline of her blouse and jutted her cleavage out, well, what little of it there was. She tried for sexy as she entered the busy club, only to get knocked back when a group of loud party girls rushing outside dragged her right along with them. She let out a little yelp and lost Allison's hand in the commotion as she stumbled toward the door. Once she was able to right herself, she slipped to the side, braced herself on the cool interior wall and took a rejuvenating breath. Even though she was out of her element, preferring labs over dance clubs, she was determined to follow through with her plan. No one here knew her for a too tall, nerdy science geek who thought watching particles collide in an accelerator was sexy. And since the particles in her accelerator were all charged up tonight, her object was to collide ... several times, if possible ... with a hot guy.

Straightening her shoulders and gathering her bravado, she scanned the club, and while her cursed height did little to attract guys, it came in handy when searching for her friends. She spotted the trio gathered around the bar, a group of hot guys flocking to them like dim-witted moths to a lightbulb.

God, why couldn't she be more like her outgoing roommates, able to walk into a room, any room, and have guys eating out of her palm? She studied the tight knit group of girls who'd all been friends since kindergarten, taking a moment to consider their small, voluptuous bodies, their short shorts, and the way their breasts bounced in their too tight tube tops, before she gave herself a once-over.

She exhaled another heavy sigh. Okay, so she didn't have to be the top physics student at her school to know why guys gravitated toward her friends and avoided her. She was a gazelle in a room full of bambies and had a brain made for science, not fun and flirtation. And since the last thing she wanted to do was accentuate her already too long legs, she avoided those cute little short shorts at all costs. Then there was her cleavage to consider. Honestly, without the use of duct tape, she'd never be able to keep up a tube top, let alone look sexy in one. Which was why she was in an unflattering white shirt that resembled a lab coat and stuck to her flesh like a second skin in the moist, southern heat.

With so many strikes against her, how the hell was she ever going to get a guy into her bed?

As she mulled that over, she came to the logical conclusion that she needed help and fast. She needed someone to show her the ropes, to teach her how to walk, talk, and dress for seduction. Someone who knew women, and knew what guys looked for when picking one from the crowd.

She continued to toss that idea around inside her head, and when her glance landed on the one guy she'd always wanted—the one guy she'd given up on noticing her—she found the answers to all her problems. Hot, hard, and popular, Luke Hackett sat on a bar stool with his elbows propped on the long oaken bar top behind him, his dark, wolfish glance sweeping the dance floor like a predator stalking its prey. Her stomach fluttered as she watched Mr. Bad Boy himself, because he was perfect in every sense of the word. Perfect face. Perfect body. Perfect ... everything.

But not only was he perfect on the outside, he was perfect on the inside. Having known Luke since she was a kid, she knew there was more to her older brother's best friend than met the eye. He might come across as wild and dangerous on the outside, but there was a quiet, reflective, sensitive side to him, and when it came to her, he'd always been patient and caring.

Her heart skipped a beat when she thought about how he'd watched out for her when they were young. She smiled as she remembered the time he'd helped her learn to ride a bike. Her brother was too busy jumping dirt piles on his BMX to give her lessons, but Luke had put aside his own fun to spend hours with her, even bandaging her bloody knee when she fell and skinned it. Then there was the time he'd taken her to the empty school parking lot to teach her how to drive when her folks had given up hope that she'd ever learn. He'd been so understanding when she had trouble with the clutch, letting her practice over and over again until she got it right. And she couldn't forget all the times he'd listen to her ramble on about her school projects when the rest of her family had tuned out. She laughed quietly thinking about how she always found him at the dining room table with her when she was up late working on a physics report. They'd shared numerous late night pizzas over homework back then, and even though he sucked at grammar, he always insisted he read over her reports before she turned them in. Maybe it was because he wanted to hang around for an extra slice, or maybe he really just wanted to help. Either way, how could a girl not love a guy like that?

She swallowed hard and tamped down the tsunami in her stomach, knowing better than to let her emotions get ahold of her where her Luke was concerned. He was into bambies, like every other guy she knew, and while he'd always looked out for her, she was certain he'd never seen her as anything more than an unattractive brainiac. Which, when she really thought about it, meant he would be the perfect teacher; if he could help transform her into the kind of girl he wanted between the sheets, she could become the kind of girl every guy wanted.

Hope surged inside her, and her smile widened. Oh yeah, he was just the guy she needed to help her out. Not only did he know women, but as a fourth year business student at the college in their hometown—the same college she was attending—majoring in both marketing and finance, he knew all about packaging and selling a product, and could most definitely teach her how to package and sell herself.