Want another hot and dirty read? Check out the first chapter of Penny’s other book, VIRGIN IN THE MIDDLE.

* * *

I stand outside my new home for the next year—an intimidatingly tall brick building, already teeming with life on this the first day of our freshman year. There are a few dozen people streaming in and out, some of them hugging their parents, others rolling their eyes as their moms cry and their dads lecture. I spot more than a few people I recognize from the orientation week slides that I’ve spent the last month poring over. Call me a nerd, but I like to know who—and what—I’m getting into in any new situation.

And what situation could be more important to prep for than college?

This is my first time out on my own. I made my parents leave my stuff on the curb before I bid them farewell because I want to move in on my own. The same way that I want to approach this year. It’s all on me now—to succeed, to finish my biology degree, hopefully at the top of the class the way I was in high school. After that, it’ll be a master’s program, and then a research position at one of the top labs in the country. I’ve already mapped out which one I want to wind up in. There are pictures of the building taped to my vision board to remind me to keep my head in the game.

I’m not going to fall prey to any of the usual freshman year dilemmas. Not me. I am here to get my degree, not to party or drink or hook-up.

After all, I’m still a virgin, so it won’t be hard for me to avoid that particular temptation. You can’t miss what you haven’t tried—and I sure as hell don’t think I’m missing out on random hook-ups. There’s no way I will let myself lose my focus (not to mention my mind) over some guy.

I smile and scoop up my bags, shouldering the first of what will be several rounds of lifting. But that’s fine by me. It’s good exercise.

Of course, when I find out my room is seven flights up, and the elevators are stuffed with people lugging furniture and TVs, I start to regret my choice to tell Mom and Dad they could go home early.

I’m sweaty and panting by the time I reach the top of the stairs, and I know there’s still at least 2 more loads of my crap waiting downstairs for me to carry up. Why, oh why, did I think I needed to bring so many clothes? Surely I could’ve made do with just one bag of sweatpants and a couple of hoodies. Why did I add professional dresses and pant suits into the mix?

Ridiculous, Cassidy, I scold myself as I stagger down the hallway to my room and fit the key into the lock. I shoulder it open, groaning as I heave my bag across the threshold. What a great first impression I’ll make on my new roommates. I wonder what the girls will be like as the door swings inward. After all, the school checked with me to be sure I’d be all right with a triple room, and I said, of course, I’m up for living with anyone. I wanted to play the roommate lottery, see who they picked for me because this year is also about expanding my own network. I want to meet other badass girls like me, working their way through this highly-acclaimed university.

So I paste a broad smile on my face in spite of my sweaty, tired posture, as the door finishes swinging open.

Then I freeze in place.

No.

No way.

There must be some mistake.

My mouth hangs open, making me look even crazier than I must already, lugging these bags in here, into what is clearly the wrong room.

“Sorry,” I stammer, looking back and forth from the occupied room to the key in my hand.

Because standing in the middle of this three-person room, the one the desk told me to go to, the one my key worked to open, are two half-naked guys.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re hot as hell, wearing sporty shorts, soccer cleats, and nothing else. Their sharply defined muscles glisten in the dim light of the dorm room. One is tan with dark hair and dark eyes. He’s halfway through chugging a bottle of Gatorade, but he freezes midway to sweep his eyes over me when I enter. The other is his polar opposite, blond and blue-eyed, your stereotypical white-bread American guy. From the bag slung over his shoulder, with its distinctive loop shape at the top, I guess they play for the lacrosse team. I’d heard the school has a really good team, top of the varsity leagues.

Finally, my face flushes as my brain kicks back into functioning. “There must be some mistake. I’ll just… Go… Ask the front desk…” I back out of the room, starting to ease the door shut behind me.

But one of them, the blond, launches across the room to catch it before I can shut it completely. “Cassidy?” he asks. “Cassidy Brown?”

If anything, my blush only worsens. Why does he know my name? “Yes?”

“Anthony,” he says, sticking out a hand. I accept it, if only because I don’t know what the hell else to do right now. His hand feels hot in mine, his skin flushed from exertion. They must have just finished practice—I can smell the sweat on Anthony, though it’s a good scent. Heady and masculine, all salt and pine and outdoors. I stare up into his deep blue eyes, unable to look away. That is, until he releases my hand, which feels suddenly cold without his touch, and points a thumb over his shoulder. “And that’s Vin.”

Vin, for his part, flashes me a cocky wink that does strange, twisty things to my stomach. I can feel a flutter behind my belly-button, and it makes me want to sprint out of here faster than ever. But I can’t because Vin is speaking now. Saying words that don’t make sense, not in English, not in a way I can comprehend. “We’re your roommates, Cassidy.”

Fuck.

I scowl. “Not possible,” I say, shaking my head.

“Here, let me take that for you,” Anthony offers, grabbing the bag from my shoulder before I can protest. Before I can even figure out what’s going on. He turns and tosses it onto my bed, across from their bunk beds on the far wall.

“We saved you the bigger bed since we’re used to sharing,” Vin adds, striding across the room to take my other bag.

“Stop, stop, stop,” I say, grabbing my stuff. They both look back at me, eyebrows raised, expectant. “This can’t be right. Aren’t we… I mean… Isn’t this… I didn’t think the rooms were coed.”

“You didn’t read the website?” Vin lifts an eyebrow. He’s still wearing an infuriating, cocky smirk. “It was right on the main page. A new change they’re trying this year. Progression, and all that.”

My face burns red-hot. Not only am I stuck rooming with two guys, but they somehow read something I missed? Even after all of my preparation… How could I have missed an update this big? “But…”

Anthony steps back over to me. He stands right in the doorway, just inches away from me, towering over me. And grinning down at me, his blue eyes infuriatingly clear and innocent-seeming. “This won’t be a problem for you, will it? After all, the administration said you put you were willing to share with anyone on your form…”

Shit. “I didn’t think—”

“Anyone didn’t include guys?” Anthony guesses, tilting his head as his blue eyes catch mine. “You don’t think we’ll get along?”

“It’s not… I mean. I don’t know you…” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “It’s nothing personal. This is just…”

“Unexpected?” Vin asks, joining Anthony beside me. He smirks still, watching me carefully. “That’s kind of the point of this year, though, isn’t it? College changes everyone in unexpected ways.”

Between the two of them, my head starts to spin. They’re both gorgeous but in opposite ways. Vin is all dark, bad boy looks, the devil on one shoulder brought to life, while Anthony is the angel on the other. Except this time, the devil and the angel have ganged up against me.

I scowl, hoping they’ll misread the hot flush on my skin as anger instead of what I fear it really is…

Attraction.

“There’s unexpected, and then there’s crazy.”

“What’s the matter? Do you think something else unexpected might happen if you room with us?” Anthony doesn’t move, doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes feel like a touch, that’s how closely he’s staring at my body, studying my curves. Making me hot all over.

I snort. “Of course not.”

“Well then, what’s the harm in sharing a bedroom?” Vin’s smirk widens. “If you’re so sure nothing will happen…”

“It’s just…” Shit. He’s got me there. I mean, what is the problem, truly? How is this different from sharing with girls? I already know myself—I am single-minded and determined. I’ve never been swayed by a hot guy before. Why would this be any different? I shake my head and shoulder between them into the room. My shoulders brush both of their chests at once—their bare chests—and it takes everything I have not to shiver in delight at the touch.

“Nothing. There’s no problem,” I say, striding over to my bed to unzip my bag. “It’s fine.”

“Good.” When I turn back around, Anthony is leaning in the doorway, studying me, as Vin goes back to changing.

When Vin strips off his shorts, down to his boxers, I flush bright red and turn back around. Though not before catching a glimpse of the bulge at his crotch, or his long, muscular, totally tanned legs.

“I… Er… I left some stuff downstairs…” I start to say, but Anthony beats me to it.

“What do your bags look like?” he asks, straightening, and grabbing a T-shirt from his top bunk bed. “I’ll grab them.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t, it’s—”

“Least we can do to make up for making our lovely new roomie uncomfortable on day one,” he interrupts, narrowing his eyes at me with a pointed smile.

Now I feel even worse. Not only did I react horribly, but they’re being so nice about it. Ugh. “Um… They’re just black bags, like this one, but with pink tags…” I nudge my bag with a toe. “I’ll come with you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s no trouble. Stay here, unpack. Get to know Vin,” he adds, with a wink that makes me glance over at Vin’s side of the room.

Oh, god. Vin has nothing but a towel on now, wrapped around his waist, displaying the pointed V of muscles that lead straight to his groin. I feel like I’m in the movie Fight Club come to life, standing between Brad Pitt and a more muscular Ed Norton.

“Um,” I reply.

But when I turn back around, Anthony is already gone.

“Don’t mind him,” Vin adds as he bends over, scooping up a shower caddy, and sliding on flip-flops. “He just has a hero complex about helping beautiful damsels in distress.” His eyes dart back over my body as he says that, and I didn’t know I could blush this much. Shit.

The tingle of tension in my belly starts to unknot, growing into something stronger. It’s Vin I can smell now, as heady as Anthony, but somehow darker. Anthony smells like pine trees and fresh air and a mountain hike, whereas Vin is more like the earthy smell after a sudden rain. Real, tangible. Way too close to me.

“Sorry I reacted so badly,” I add, swallowing hard to ignore the tightening in my throat, the dryness in my mouth. “I was just surprised. It’s not that I hate guys or anything.”

“I certainly hope you don’t,” he responds, laughing. “That would be a sad day for our half of the species.”

To distract myself, I turn away and start rooting through my bags. “So did you guys play the roommate lottery too?” I ask, my back to him.

“No,” Vin responds, surprising me. “I’ve known Anthony since we were kids. But we wanted to room with a third person. Change it up a bit.”

When I’m not looking at him, it’s almost possible to have a normal conversation. Maybe I’ll just have to do this all year. Speak to them with my eyes closed or my back turned.

Then again, maybe it will get easier to ignore them when they put some damn clothes on.

“That’s cool,” I say, still rooting through my stuff.

“We figured this would be a good way to get to know new people. To find unexpected new connections.” As he speaks, his voice nears me.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, tingling, and I can feel him standing just a few feet behind me. His stare feels like a touch, as if his hands are already running all over my body.

Great. Just what I need. Childhood best friends and I’m turned on by both of them. This doesn’t at all have disaster written all over it.

Luckily, before either of us can say anything else, the door pops open again. Anthony strides through, all four of my other bags on his arms. He drops them on my side of the room without even breaking a sweat or breathing hard. I blink, realizing he just did in one trip what would’ve taken me another two hikes up those stairs.

“Thank you,” I stammer, surprised.

“No problem. Extra workout,” he adds with a wink as he deposits the bags on top of my bed. “That all you brought?”

“All?” I ask, surveying what seems to me like a ton of clothing, not to mention more than enough accessories and the small bundle full of my makeup and toiletries.

Anthony shrugs. “Just figured sharing a room with a girl would mean a lot more… stuff. But I’ve got more crap here than you do.”

I glance over my shoulder at his and Vin’s side of the room. Suddenly, it’s easy to find Anthony’s closet—there’s two closets side-by-side on that side of the room, both open. One is spilling over with clothes, towels, jerseys in what looks like every size, shape, and color. Not to mention more than a few bags of what seems to be workout equipment. Vin has the workout equipment, but probably less clothing than I knew it was possible to own—just two pairs of identical jeans, four identical black T-shirts, a leather jacket, and a neatly ordered stack of his exercise gear.

I almost laugh at that. “Guess you’re the over-packer in this room,” I say.

“Not the first time,” Vin replies, laughing as he punches Anthony’s shoulder lightly. He’s still wearing his towel, and he shoots Anthony a pointed look as he heads for the door. “You know, we’re going to miss coach’s dinner meeting if we don’t clean up soon, right?”

Anthony grimaces and turns away from me with one last glance, his gaze seeming almost regretful. But he grabs his shower caddy and towel and pads out of the room after Vin anyway. I’m left alone, stunned, in the middle of a pile of lacrosse equipment, the guys’ heady scent still lingering in the air.

I cross the room and shove open the window, hoping the cool fall air outside will cleanse the room of them—not to mention clear my head.

That done, I pull the sheets I brought onto my bed, then flop down face-first onto it and grab my phone. It’s 6 pm here, which means it’s only 3 pm on the West Coast, so Nita is probably only just getting to her dorm. She might be busy with orientation at her school or off meeting new friends. But I need the distraction right now, so I text her anyway.

Just got moved in. How’s it going on your end?

It takes a few minutes, but the text window soon lights up with her response. Still at the airport, waiting for my luggage. You’re so lucky you could drive there. It was hell to try and cram everything I own into just two oversized bags.

I grin, hearing the text aloud in my best friend’s voice. Yeah, well, that’s what you get for running so far away from me, I say with a couple added tongue-sticking-out emojis for emphasis.

You know I had to do this. It’s my dream school.

I know, I admit. I’m just teasing. I’m proud of you really. It’s ballsy, moving that far away. I couldn’t handle it. Hell, I’m freaking out just being here, a few hours’ drive from home.

You’re going to rock this year, Nita replies immediately. Talking me up like she always does. If anyone can utterly own freshman year, it’s you.

I don’t know about that… I’m typing, just as the dorm room door swings open again. I start, glancing up and locking eyes with both boys, dripping wet from the showers, their hair running across their foreheads into their eyes, chests bare and glistening with droplets of water. Only the towels around their waists hide their bodies from me, and those towels are not doing a very good job of concealing… well, anything.

My eyes go straight to their crotches, unable to help myself. Vin and Anthony smirk, knowingly, almost in unison.

“How’s the unpacking going?” Vin asks, his voice faux-casual as he casts a glance at my still-full bags.

“Fine,” I respond, burying my face in my phone again. Though probably not before he’d have been able to glimpse my neon-red blush, as my whole face catches on fire.

I think I might be more easily distracted than I thought, I add to Nita, deliberately typing as slowly as possible to avoid looking up.

The boys strike up a conversation of their own, talking about practice schedules and their first match of the year in a couple of weeks against a tough rival school. I’m half-listening, half-pretending to read my phone waiting for Nita’s response.

Then I realize, out of the corner of my eye, that they’re getting dressed. Not only that, but they’ve both just dropped the towels and started pulling on boxers—with their backs to me, sure, but they’re flat-out naked all the same. My breath catches in my throat, and my whole body feels like it’s on fire. I can see Anthony’s muscular, curved ass as he bends over to step into his boxers. The way Vin’s back muscles contract as he stands up and snaps his onto his narrow waist, right over those V-cut muscles on his abs.

And that’s all out of the corner of my eye. Imagine if I actually dared to turn my head and look…

No. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

Opening that window did not help cool things off in here at all.

The phone buzzes in my hand as Nita responds. Please, Cassidy, she texts, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes already. You are the least distractible person I have ever met. I’d like to see what could possibly get you of all people off-track.

Yeah, I think, though I don’t type it. You would definitely enjoy seeing what has me distracted right now…

Instead, I just sigh and type out a real answer. We’ll see.

No, you’ll see, she says. This year is going to be great. I’m so excited.

Out of the corner of my eye, I realize the boys have finally finished dressing. Or at least, they have shorts and T-shirts on now, which I guess is as much as I’ll be able to hope for this year. I cast a glance over at them, still in the middle of talking about their lacrosse schedule. Apparently, they have practice really early in the mornings, starting tomorrow. Sounds like hell to me. But Anthony meets my eye when I steal a peek, and he winks, a small smile lingering on his perfectly-curved mouth.

I’m not so sure excited is the right word, Nita, I think, my stomach coiling with dread.

* * *

Crazy boy roommates or not, I manage to survive my first day of orientation. It was actually pretty enjoyable—I met a couple of girls who would be in a few of my bio classes, as well as some really cool professors who spoke to us a bit about what our first week would be like. There are some after-dinner activities out on the lawns, just general stuff like ice-breaker games. And, of course, a few of the partiers in the dorms have already identified themselves, staking out a corner cluster of rooms for a less-than-legal welcome-freshmen party. I can smell the booze from down the hall as I pass, on my way up to bed for an early night after spending a couple hours trying to be social by pretending I like lawn bowling. (Who even knew that was a sport, anyway?)

But the moment I open the door to the room, I’m reminded of my real dilemma here. The boys aren’t here, but I see evidence of them everywhere, from the clothes strewn around the place (I can already guess those must be Anthony’s; Vin is way too tidy to leave his stuff on the floor) to the lacrosse sticks out of their cases and propped against a wall. There’s even a Playboy magazine on the floor beside their bunk beds, and my face flushes as I catch a glimpse of the page it’s spread open to—a completely naked woman.

Who are these guys? Are we going to have anything in common? Are they going to do anything but torment me all year?

I shower as fast as I can and dress in the narrow common bathroom stalls before I head back to the room. I hope to beat the guys to bed so I can at least have one night of peace before I figure out how to handle living with them. Luckily, there’s still no sign of them, so I climb into my bed and pull the covers up to my chin, sighing.

Here goes nothing, is the last thought I remember having before I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up again, it’s still dark. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling, confused and disoriented, wondering where I am. The memory floods back slowly, along with the sound of other people breathing. Two other people, to be exact.

One is deep and measured, the sound of someone fast asleep. The other is faster, interwoven with sharper breaths. It sounds like someone working out.

For a moment, I just pause to appreciate the fact that the guys managed not to wake me up coming home. I’m a pretty light sleeper, so the fact that they both got ready for bed and passed out before I even noticed they were here is impressive. And probably means they were trying to be quiet on purpose, for my sake.

I don’t have time to be impressed by that, though, because I shift a little in my bed, peering out from a gap in the covers over my face, and feel my breath catch in my throat. Any softening feelings I might have felt toward the guys fly out the window as I realize what’s happening in the top bunk, the one directly across from mine, of which I have a perfect, bird’s-eye view.

Anthony has the covers pulled down to his thighs, his head tilted back, teeth gritted in the dim light. It’s dark enough that I can’t make out much of his expression—only his teeth are white enough to show in the midnight room. But I can make out the shape of his arm, the muscles tense and tight. And his hand, folded up over his waist. Wrapped around…

Oh, god.

He’s jerking off, I realize, my eyes widening at the sight of his thick, gloriously hard cock. His hand slides along his own length, his breath speeding up as he moves his hand faster, curving his fingers along the tip.

I should look away. Close my eyes. Pull the blanket back over my face and try to fall back asleep until he’s finished. I know that’s what I should do.

But there’s something impossibly hot about the strain on his face, the tension in his strong arms. The way he arches his hips, curses under his breath, pleasuring himself completely. That must have been what woke me—the uneven sound of his breathing, and the occasional gasps he lets out when he gets nearer to his peak.

Without thinking, without even realizing what I’m doing exactly, my hand strays to the waistband of my PJs. I might be a virgin, but I’m not a saint—I sure as hell know how to make myself feel good when I’m in the mood. I have to if I want to stay on track and away from other distractions.

The sight of Anthony right now is definitely putting me in the mood.

I slide my hand under my pajamas, straight past my underwear. I run my finger along my slit, realizing with a start of surprise that I’m already wet. I circle my finger in my juices, coating my index finger, then my middle finger too, all the while picturing Anthony’s hand where mine is, tracing the outline of my pussy lips, feeling how wet he makes me. I slide a finger inside myself, curl it to stroke my inner wall, and imagine him doing this to me instead. What if that thick arm of his was wrapped around my hips instead? What would he make me do; how would I feel if he took me the way he’s taking himself right now?

I watch his hips arch off the bed again, and imagine him thrusting inside me as I push my finger deeper into my pussy. I slide my middle finger in too, watching Anthony’s thick cock, knowing how he’d stretch my walls tight if he fucked me. I circle my thumb over my clit, my own breath speeding up as I hit all the right spots. Anthony is panting now, near his climax. I hope the heavy sound of his breath will disguise my own, as I stroke myself faster, circling my clit, quickly bringing myself close to the brink as well.

He shifts in bed, onto his side, facing toward me, and for a moment my whole body freezes, muscles frozen, terrified. What if he sees me watching him? What will he think if he knows I’m touching myself, turned on as hell by watching him masturbate?

But his eyes remain closed tight, his lips parted in distraction, his ab muscles on full view now, tense as he strokes himself off, right to the edge.

I press harder against my clit, thrusting my fingers into my pussy at the same time, and part my lips, gasping without sound as the orgasm hits. At the same moment, across the room, Anthony comes too, groaning faintly as his cum pumps across his knuckles, drips along his arm. I stare at it, still rubbing my clit, the orgasm jolting through my limbs, electrifying my brain. I feel like I can feel his cum on me, slicking my body. I imagine him coming on my stomach, my chest, or deep inside me, coating the walls of my pussy, marking me as his.

When Anthony rolls over and reaches for a towel, I quickly drop the covers back across my face, sliding my hand out of my PJs. My body still feels limp and relaxed, my pussy tight and twitching from the orgasm. I roll over in bed, away from him, and curl up facing the wall, wondering if he could hear me. Wondering if he guessed what I was doing at the same time as him. I hope to god he didn’t because I don’t know how to explain what the hell just came over me.

I told myself that coming here, I would remain completely focused on school. On my work, on classes, and not on guys. Now, less than 24 hours later, I’m already masturbating over one of them?

I grimace and tighten my grip on my pillow. How the hell am I going to survive an entire semester with these guys so close to me?

* * *