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CHAPTER 1

Oh, God. There he was. Sexy Campus Guy. I didn't know his name and that was okay with me. That way, when I fantasised about him, I was free to give him any name I wanted. I could call him something dark and dangerous, like Rutger, if that's what I was feeling that night — or if I was in a soft, romantic mood he was Rogan.

I snorted at my own silliness and climbed up the ladder for the tenth time. I was hanging decorations for the monthly university mixer. I didn't usually help out with this kind of thing, but they were short-handed so I'd volunteered to help. And — bonus for me — SCG was here too.

I stabbed the tack into the soft ceiling tile, hanging up yet another green streamer, then looked down over the heads of the other students.

I spotted Sexy Guy's blond head immediately. He was head and shoulders taller than most of the other guys. He was explaining something to one of the other students, gesturing with his big hands. I took the opportunity to check him out.

He was wearing a tight, green school T-shirt with short sleeves that cut right through the middle of his biceps, showing off the nice swells of muscle there, and a pair of snug jeans. They were skinny, tight, and although I'd have liked to know all his secrets, I appreciated the slightly baggier fit in some places.

From across the room he looked up at me, still staring at him from the ladder, and his mouth took on a lopsided grin. I scooted my way down the ladder.

I have a boyfriend, I had to remind myself. And SCG had a girlfriend, I was pretty sure.

"Hey, Andrea, will you quit mooning over the eye candy and go grab me a new roll of tape?" one of the other volunteers asked, laughing at me.

I did as she'd asked, then tossed it up in the air as I passed under the ladder she stood on. She caught it. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I had one more streamer to hang to finish the row, making almost a shower effect in the school's colours. I stepped up the rungs one by one and realised at the top that someone had moved the ladder — but if I stretched I could still tack the streamer in the right spot.

All of a sudden, I heard clapping. It got louder. I turned to see what the commotion was and realised a group of guys had gathered behind me and were applauding my ass. One of them even held up a piece of paper with a sloppy '9.9' on it.

"Thanks, guys." I bent in a mock bow. "I'll be here all week," I quipped, climbing down. Guys were so easily amused.

"How about less clothes and a pole next time, Blondie?" Sexy Campus Guy commented in a low voice as he sauntered by.

I closed my eyes for a split second. Ooooh, I thought, I'd take the chance to dance around his pole any day.

When I turned back around, he'd climbed up the ladder and his appealing package was at eye level. I stared. Like an idiot.

I swallowed the extra saliva that seemed to have gathered in my mouth as I looked at the ... not quite a bulge because he wasn't hard, but the very nice hint of what might be concealed inside. Apparently, I was easily distracted and entertained as well.

Fuck! I had to get out of there. And the first thing I was going to do was break up with old What's-His-Name.

* * *

About a month later, I skipped down the steps of my apartment building, taking hold of the ugly green banister to steady myself when I hit the bottom stair.

"Whoa," I breathed, a little woozy and off balance. Those three tumblers of rum had hit me hard and fast. An empty stomach and a bad day at work did it every time. I shrugged, taking a deep breath of the cold night air, my warm breath causing a tiny cloud when I exhaled.

I zipped up my thick coat, enjoying a nice buzz, and started walking down the street towards the corner store. Perhaps not the brightest decision for a lone female at night, but I needed milk for the next day. I didn't have to go into work, thankfully, but I would still want morning coffee. It was only about eight p.m. and the store was only a couple of blocks from my place. I knew that I'd be fine, although perhaps my judgement might have been slightly askew from the alcohol. And, quite possibly, milk was not the only thing I was out looking for. I might buy some munchies to have along with the next few drinks that I planned to consume when I got back home. My mouth watered at the thought of some overly flavoured, salty potato chips.

As I strolled, I noticed a number of other people out and about tonight, the cool temperatures not keeping them in. I passed an elderly couple sitting on a bench under a streetlamp, holding hands, perhaps waiting for the last bus of the night. The older lady smiled at me and I couldn't help but return her small greeting — her wrinkled grin was contagious.

I was still smiling as I passed under the next streetlight, and a creepy guy in dirty pants and a ripped jacket gave me a toothless leer. I averted my gaze and hurried my step.

I thought back to the game that my sister and I used to play when we were teenagers. We used to walk a lot at night just to escape the misery of our house and our screaming parents, close to the end of their marriage. We used to sit and people watch. We'd made up this silly little diversion to pass the hours, and quite possibly to keep ourselves from thinking about our own reality at the time. It had started out simply enough at first. We'd select an individual and attempt to guess our subject's occupation or walk of life. But as our family had started to fall apart, and we'd hung out downtown more and more, the game had become more elaborate. We'd ended up creating detailed backstories about the people we saw. But at night the rules had changed. We could only make up things about the people who had been touched by the circles of light beaming down from the streetlights. We'd called them our streetlight people.

Sometimes, when the streets had been quiet, my sister had persuaded me under the light and she'd concocted the most marvellous future life for me. I guessed that was why she was the writer and I was still searching for my place in life. Still working, still taking classes, with no real purpose.

So I went back, in my mind, to the old married couple on the bench. Married forty-three years and still holding hands, I supplied. High school sweethearts. Married straight after graduation. He was a lifelong factory man and she a stay-at-home mom. They'd raised four children of their own and now enjoyed the laughter of grandchildren.

"Hmm, not as good at this as I used to be," I said, under my breath.

There was a couple ahead of me walking in the same direction. They passed in then out of a stream of light, capturing my attention.

What was their story?

I kept a safe distance away from them so that they wouldn't think that I was listening into their conversation or anything. They were holding hands too, and she was leaning into the tall, sturdy-looking man at her side.

The girl turned and looked back at me as if she knew that I was observing them. I kept my head down, not making eye contact. But when she turned back around I watched them again. I was envious. I wanted to be in a relationship. It had been about a month since I'd broken up with my last boyfriend, and I was beginning to get over the hurt and miss the sex. It had been a nasty break-up. My choice — I just hadn't seen it going anywhere. But more to the point, I'd ended things because I couldn't seem to keep my mind off that amazing hunk of a man at the university. In return, my ex had spread some nasty rumours around about me. What a jackass!

The guy ahead of me wore a bomber jacket that looked a bit like the ones they sold at the university. I shoved my cold hands into my pockets as I continued to check him out. He wore tight-fitting jeans and what looked like they might be cowboy boots. I listened closely and heard the tell-tale clunking of the heavy heel meeting the sidewalk. He had thick hair — I couldn't quite make out what colour in the dark. He reminded me of the guy from the university.

The girl twisted and looked at me again, as if she knew that I was checking out her man. I turned my head to the right, gazing into the dimly lit storefronts. When I turned back she was no longer looking my way. I slowed my gait, trying to put some distance between them and myself, but they seemed to slow as well.

It was his turn now. He craned his neck and seemed to scrutinise me. Then their heads were together as if they were deep in conversation.

Suddenly they stopped altogether and embraced, the street lamp above illuminating them. I kept walking, skirting my way around, ignoring them but very aware of them at the same time. He was kissing her — I mean, really kissing her. His hands were in her hair, pulling her head back so that he could have full access to her mouth. Shit! I missed that, too. He was tall, leaning over her, devouring her, controlling her. Heat suffused my body as I had a momentary flash of a big, rugged cowboy kissing me like that.

I kept moving. Maybe I should get what I needed at the store and call up my girlfriends, get all tramped up and hit the clubs. Take home some hot guy I didn't know, who could scratch my itch, then send him on his way in the morning.

I was nearing the corner where I needed to turn down the street leading to the corner shop when I realised that the couple was now following me.

I quickened my pace. They hurried theirs. I slowed. They slowed. This was getting weird. Or in my slight inebriation I was feeling paranoid.

"Hey, Blondie?" a deep voice from behind me called.

Did he mean me? Nope, not paranoid at all. I continued on, acting as though I hadn't heard him.

"Hey," he called, and his boots clunked faster on the sidewalk behind me, bringing him closer, fast. I had a moment of panic mixed with exhilaration that he was calling to me.

I turned my head, sending my thick blonde hair whipping behind me. He was alone. The girl was gone.

I slowed but kept walking.

"Slow up, Blondie. I just wanna talk."

I didn't, but I knew that he was catching up.

He appeared at my side and I knew that he was looking at me sideways as he maintained my stride. I watched him from my peripheral vision.

"Where ya goin'?"

"To the store."

"What for?"

"Milk, if it's any of your business."

"Oh, hey, no need for hostility. Milk, hmm?"

I wondered what that meant.

"Does a body good, right?" He grinned.

Good one, I thought. What a tool. "Where's your date?" I asked.

"Oh, around. This was actually her idea."

"This?" I asked, my eyebrows drawing together.

"Yeah." He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. I tried to stop, but my momentum and slight intoxication carried me into his solid chest. His arms surrounded me. "Whoa, hey, be careful." His deep voice rumbled through me.

"Get out of my way," I said stiffly, but I made the mistake of inhaling. He smelt wonderful. The scent of him was alluring. Heady. It filled my nose and my mouth with taste. He was making me drunk. I thought I should be panicking with his strong arms around me, but it felt good. I didn't have alarm bells going off in my head. And again, I thought that I might not be entirely in touch with all my faculties. The alcohol was making me brave and more curious than I would normally be. My buzz was wearing off quickly, though. But he had his own dizzying effects.

"Do you really want me to?"

I stared at his chest. What did he mean, did I really want him to? "Yes, get the fuck out of my ..."

I looked up at him and my words died on my tongue. Oh, my God!It is him! The guy from school, and he was fucking gorgeous. I'd never been up close and personal with him when I'd checked him out, only noting his other sizeable attributes in his tight jeans and T-shirt. And he knew the exact moment that I realised that he was something else. The corner of his mouth drew up. Obviously he was used to this reaction from women. I should have found his arrogance a turn-off. But I didn't.

"See. You like me," he said, with certainty.

"I don't even know you." But who wouldn't want to?

He was tall, broad, with a hard body. His features were sculpted. Full lips, sharp cheekbones, sculpted chin complete with a slight cleft. His cheeks were covered in a fine layer of stubble, screaming danger. I couldn't see what colour his eyes were, but they were alive with mischief and purpose.

"We can change that," he said, tucking a strong hand under my hair, cupping my neck and the side of my jaw. Jesus! Was he going to kiss me? Like he'd kissed her?

"Wouldn't you like to get to know me? I've seen you around campus. Don't think I didn't know you were scoping me out." He continued to grin cockily. "And don't think for one second I wasn't doing the very same."

I opened my mouth. "I —"

Then his lips were on mine. I struggled for the briefest of seconds before I was overwhelmed with sensation. He kissed softly, teasing, tempting me with his lips and his tongue. The smell of him, the taste of him drew me into his web of seduction.

"Mmm," he murmured, into my mouth. "What have you been drinking tonight, blonde one?"

"Spiced rum," I answered breathlessly.

"Mmm, my new favourite — spiced rum and you," he whispered, and took over my mouth once again, but this time I was ready for him and I kissed him back.

I felt his approval reverberate through his chest and it made me bolder. I darted my tongue out and touched his bottom lip. This was crazy and stupid and likely the most dangerous, idiotic thing I had ever done, and I knew it but I didn't stop. I didn't want to. His mouth was like magic. And I realised I was horny as hell. I wanted to have sex. Lots and lots of it. And if it was with Hot Campus Guy, I just might not send him packing come morning.

His tongue touched mine then swept into my mouth. The next thing I knew, he had me plastered up against the glass window at the front of the store.

"Wow, you are one little ball of heat," he said as his body closed in on mine, pressing his chest against my tingling tits. He dropped his hips and thrust forward, forcing me backwards until my ass hit the window. I realised he had a full-fledged hard-on directed squarely at me. My own lower half rushed to life at the contact. Tingling, sweet, wet heat rushed between my legs as I pressed my pelvis against his rock-hard cock. I think I even growled my own approval. I wanted to fuck this stranger. Right here. With my ass slapping against the cold glass. What the hell was wrong with me?

All of a sudden I heard another voice — a female one — to my right. "I told you she was pretty."

"You were right, but I already knew she was pretty." The man kissing the hell out of me paused to answer. "And she's horny." He continued to kiss me. Not even as an afterthought — he was still kissing me with all the same heat while speaking to ... I gasped when I opened my eyes and realised that his girlfriend was the speaker. Little slow here. Foggy alcohol, sex-deprived brain. I think so.

I stiffened.

"No, don't stop." He tried to soothe me. "It's okay, baby. Kiss me. She doesn't mind. She picked you."

Picked me? I didn't understand. But I didn't have enough time to think when his tongue made a slow pass over my bottom lip, pulling me back into him. He kissed me until I was clinging to him, rocking my hips against his persistent ones. We were bucking against each other in simulated sex. He released my hips and encircled my tits with his hands. When the hell had he unzipped my coat? I pushed the heavy mounds into his hands eagerly, begging him silently to circle or tweak my pebbled nipples.

"Mmm, you have lovely breasts. I want to see you, all bare and glistening from my mouth," he rasped, breathing rapidly in between speaking and kissing. I knew that he was just as affected as I was and it wasn't just the heavy breathing — the steely proof throbbed against my hip, keeping me pinned against the window. "But maybe not here, huh?" He pulled my T-shirt up, only slightly, and inserted his hands beneath it. He brushed his thumbs over my straining nipples in tandem through my bra. Oh God, yes!

"Ahhh," I moaned into his mouth.

"You like that?"

"God, yes," I gasped. He continued to torture me with his thumbs while he parted my legs with his bent knee, shoving it between them, giving me something firm to ride. The new, constant pressure felt wonderful. I belatedly hoped there were movie posters or ads covering the storefront window, or the customers inside would be getting one hell of a show.

I felt something graze my hair and I knew that both of his hands were busy manipulating my aroused nipples. I opened my eyes and looked into his, questioningly, reluctant to release his mouth. His dark eyes were reassuring, alive with desire and promises of more dark pleasures he could provide for me.

"What's your name, honey?" the soft voice of the female whispered close to my ear.

I looked sideways at her. Should I give them my real name? Hell, he might already know it, or part of it, from school. Although, I didn't know his. "Andi," I mumbled against his mouth. He didn't call me out.

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Excerpted from "Streetlight People"
by .
Copyright © 2013 HK Carlton.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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