Here is a little tease of Kiss me Now, Angela and Jackson’s story.

The good times were coming to an end, and I would be the bearer of bad news.

Damn.

The keg gurgled as I pressed the tap against the rim of my cup. I held it at an angle, trying to keep the foam filling the nozzle from polluting my drink, and get one last shot of fermented heaven from the barrel. Instead, the hose hissed as bubbles blew through the tubing.

Motherfucker. It was dry. Which meant the keg would have to be switched. It wasn’t my job, but it was only ‘polite’ to inform the host that they were running out of booze before the natives grew restless.

The party around me was hopping, even if the music made me feel old. I was in my last semester of college, and I was elbow-to-elbow with a bunch of fucking teeny boppers.

Then again, the play list wasn’t really for me, but the honeys that were wriggling their asses off in tiny dresses. No matter how old I got, they always stayed the same. You could usually tell the difference between those beginning their college career, and those at the end. It came down to layers: froshies were all sky-high heels and bare legs, while the older girls rolled in wearing sweats and hoodies.

Ultimately I didn’t care what they wore. All women were pink where it mattered.

Two possibilities sauntered my way. Their hips swung like pendulums just begging my gaze to follow.

“Aren’t you Jackson Clark?” A bubbly blonde with double-D boobs giggled. I don’t know how she wasn’t falling out of her dress, but fuck was I glad for her clothing choice.

I flashed her a come-hither smile. I loved when I was recognized.

“I am.” While our—the Badgers-football season had ended right at the beginning of the off-season, baseball was coming up in another two months. I wondered which sport they followed, or if they’d heard that some of the team would be here, and they decided to brush up on their sports banter.

“You were amazing last year. That home run against the Oklahoma Sooners last year was magical.” The brunette seemed a true fan as she smiled at me. She had stars in her eyes, and the blonde nodded eagerly.

I grinned, but it wasn’t because they knew sports. No, it was because I was pretty sure they were a sure thing.

I flashed them a wink, and they wove together as if starstruck. Damn. This might just be the beginning of a letter to Penthouse; a fantasy in the making. While I wasn’t sure I could get both of them into my bed, I had to try. What was the worse they could do, tell me no?

Regi O’Connell blew my mojo as he appeared at my side.

“I need your help.”

His low-pitched voice broke over the music, and the girls giggled when they saw him. Yeah, he was as infamous as I was.

“What do you need?” I kicked back a sip of my brewski and winked at the brunette who kept running her tongue over her upper lip. She gave all the signals of a girl who wanted something in her mouth, and I was more than willing to volunteer to be her suck-toy.

“Are you drinking?”

I shifted as guilt, shame, and excuses prickled me.

I glanced into my cup and winced. I wasn’t supposed to be drinking. I was on shift. Yet somehow, as the night wore on, beer wound up in my hand, and in my gut.

I looked over at Regi. He was sober as a monk and beyond pissed.

I shrugged and took a swig of my beer. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, Jackson. Jesus fuck.” Regi slapped the beer out of my hand, splashing the girls as my cup went tumbling. They squealed, shooting Regi angry looks. Shaking their arms, they slinked off to mop up.

Damn. There went my evening fun.

I glared at Regi. What the fuck was his problem? “What do you need? You’re ruining my buzz.”

Regi’s fingers dug into my tattooed bicep. “Yeah? You think I’m ruining your buzz? Follow me.”

Fury all but levitated Regi through the house as he shoved people out of the way.

I sighed and followed him. The quicker I figured out what burr crawled up his ass, the faster I could rejoin the ladies.

It was easy for the two of us to crash through the party goers. He and I were the same height, rocking six-feet-five easily. Though I liked to claim I had an inch or two on Regi, if you put the two of us back-to-back, I’d be taller only because of my hair. While I was broader, he was faster. We were both offensive linemen for the Badgers, and though it was off season now for the University of Wisconsin-Madison football team, we still kept in contact.

Regi hurried up the stairs and cut a racing curve around the landing. He almost barreled over some schmuck who had been leaning against the banister.

Why was he in such a rush?

I tossed a wink at a girl who caught my arm as I passed.

“Jackson,” she purred.

“Later, baby doll.”

Regi stopped in front of a bedroom door.

I arched a brow. “I’m not into guys,” I joked.

“Shut up,” Regi growled. He was pissed, and I wondered at who. Me, or the person — or persons — inside. Had his old lady got caught stepping out on him? Hell, I didn’t even know Regi had a steady chick. He and I were, in some ways, cut from the same cloth. Regi had a reputation as a man-whore. For me, it was hard to settle down when there were so many girls flinging their panties my way.

“What has your panties in a wad,” I muttered.

Regi’s fingers tightened on the door. “You fucked up.”

Anger burst through my veins in a torrent. What did he mean by that? I was in no mood to pick a fight with him, though, so I tamped down my desire to take a swing at him. If coach caught us fighting offseason, he would bench us when football came back in.

Regi shoved open the door and waved me in.

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. There were three girls on the bed and a guy on the ground.

Was there an orgy going on?

My brain was slow to catch up, and when it did, I realized what Regi meant.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” I’d meant to whisper it, but my voice boomed as horror dawned nice and slow; a rising tide that started at my feet and scaled my body until it nailed crashed over my head.

This is my fault.

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