All
Played Out [Rush University #3] by Cora Carmack
Published: May 12, 2015
Publisher: William Morrow
Synopsis
First person in her family to go to
college? CHECK.
Straight A’s? CHECK.
On track to graduate early? CHECK.
Social life? …..yeah, about that….
With just a few weeks until she
graduates, Antonella DeLuca’s beginning to worry that maybe she hasn’t had the
full college experience. (Okay... Scratch that. She knows she hasn't had the
full college experience). So Nell does what a smart, dedicated
girl like herself does best. She makes a "to do" list of normal
college activities.
Item #1? Hook up with a jock.
Rusk University wide receiver Mateo
Torres practically wrote the playbook for normal college living. When he’s not
on the field, he excels at partying, girls, and more partying. As long as he
keeps things light and easy, it's impossible to get hurt... again. But
something about the quiet, shy, sexy-as-hell Nell gets under his skin, and when
he learns about her list, he makes it his mission to help her complete it.
Torres is the definition of confident
(And sexy. And wild), and he opens up a side of Nell that she's never known.
But as they begin to check off each crazy, exciting, normal item, Nell finds
that her frivolous list leads to something more serious than she bargained for.
And while Torres is used to taking risks on the field, he has to decide if he's
willing to take the chance when it's more than just a game. Together they will have to decide if
what they have is just part of the experiment or a chance at something real.
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ALL LINED UP, Book 1
ALL BROKE DOWN, Book 2
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ALL PLAYED OUT Excerpt
“We’re going to a Halloween party. Trust me,
you’ll feel more awkward if you’re not dressed up. When we get there, you’ll
see. This is no big deal.”
I don’t look down at the white button-up shirt
that’s gaping open over my boobs. I’ve looked at the awful naughty-schoolgirl
costume enough times to imprint the thing on my memory.
“If this costume weren’t so … so …”
“Sexy?” she prompts.
“Atrocious.”
“Well, that’s what you get for buying a costume
the day before Halloween. Everything is picked over by then. You didn’t want to
go as Jasmine and have your stomach showing, so this is what you got. Besides,
it kind of fits you.”
I gesture to the button over my chest that’s
threatening to pop with any sudden movement. “It does not kind of fit me.”
“I mean, the schoolgirl vibe. It’s like the
amplified version of you. That’s perfect for Halloween.”
“There is absolutely no universe where the
amplified version of me would not be wearing yoga pants and glasses.”
“Fine. It’s the bold and wild version of you.
Nothing wrong with trying bold and wild for a change.”
I groan and throw myself down on the toilet seat
beside her. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I should go to this party
after all. All those people, and costumes, and decorations. I think Halloween
is way too overwhelming for my first foray into the college party scene.”
Dylan tosses her mascara into her makeup bag and
faces me, her look now complete. She manages to appear both classy and sexy in
a homemade Statue of Liberty costume. Only Dylan could make Lady Liberty look
hot.
“Just take a deep breath, Nell. This isn’t nearly
as scary as you’re making it out to be in your head. I promise.”
“Maybe not for you. But the idea of being in some
frat house with a bunch of people I don’t know—”
She cuts me off. “We’re not going to one of the
frat parties. Everyone has been avoiding that scene since … well, it doesn’t
matter. The group decided it would be better to have something smaller, more
manageable. It’s at Silas’s house. And it’s only people they know and trust.
You’ll be fine. I know it.”
Apparently “people they know and trust”
translates into about thirty people on the lawn, fifteen on the porch, and more
people than I can count on the inside. Dylan’s hand is wrapped tight around my
elbow as we step through the entryway to Silas’s house. She’s on her tiptoes,
searching for him, and all I can think about is making a break for it and
getting out of there as soon as possible.
I’m so concentrated on keeping my short skirt
down and the too-tight white shirt buttoned up that I don’t even realize she’s
found her boyfriend until she lets go of my arm. At the loss of her touch, I
look up, panicked. Silas is dressed as a fireman, and he drops his helmet to
circle his arms around Dylan. His fist clutches at the material on the back of
her dress, just above her bottom, and I immediately look away, only to lock
eyes with the one person I want to see even less than a very public display of
affection.
Mateo Torres.
He has a beer lifted halfway to his mouth, but
his jaw is slack, and he’s staring at me. No, “stare” does not quite do justice
to the look he’s giving me. His eyes raze me, and when I lift my hand to touch
my neck, subconsciously covering my all-too-visible cleavage, I’m surprised my
skin doesn’t flake away into ashes from the fire in his gaze.
Adrenaline surges through me, and for a moment it
feels like a fight-or-flight impulse, and I wonder why my brain still reads his
presence as dangerous. But then I stop and think. It’s not quite the same
sensation. Fight or flight generally makes me either panic or freeze up. It’s
about fear. This is different. When seconds pass and he still hasn’t taken his
eyes off of me, I recognize the extra sensation riding on the adrenaline’s
heels.
Power.
He makes me feel powerful.
I drop my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of
pleasure I feel at that idea, and am faced instead with his costume that I
hadn’t noticed before. Or more correctly, his near lack of a costume. His chest
is bare, and I can’t help but measure him with my eyes. His chest is broad,
hewn in muscles that couldn’t be more defined if an artist sculpted them. His
skin is a warm bronze, and it looks so smooth to the touch. Everywhere. Except
for the small line of dark hair disappearing beneath a strange, leatherlike
cloth.
God. A loincloth. He’s wearing nothing but a
loincloth.
Oh, mercy.
Then he’s moving toward me, and I don’t know
where to look. His dangerous gaze. His naked chest. That cloth that hides only
… oh, mercy.
“Girl genius,” he says, and I can hear the smirk
in his voice without even looking away from the suddenly interesting spot on
the floor. Then he shifts, and something changes in his voice when he says,
“Nell.”
A part of me likes hearing him say my name
entirely too much. And that part … is a fool.
“Still ignoring my request that you stay away?” I
ask stiffly.
“If you wanted me to stay away, you definitely
shouldn’t have worn that.”
A furious blush steals across my cheeks and down
my neck. “Dylan insisted I wear a costume, and this was all that was left at
the store.”
“Thank God for Dylan, then. And for
procrastination. Can you do me a favor and say, ‘Hit me, baby, one more time?’
Pretty please?”
Rather
than answering, I actually hit him. But when my palm makes contact with the
hard muscle of his shoulder, I wish I hadn’t. Because now that I know what his
bare skin feels like, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forget the sensation. My
brain is already cataloging the feel, comparing it to all the other people I’ve
touched, and coming up empty for comparison. Is it normal for him to feel so
warm?
It’s the alcohol, I decide. It must be. I read
something once about it dilating blood vessels and bringing warmer blood closer
to the surface of the skin.
Yes, that’s absolutely it.
About Cora Carmack
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Cora Carmack is a twenty-something New York Times
bestselling author who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She's
done a multitude of things in her life-- boring jobs (like working retail), Fun
jobs (like working in a theatre), stressful jobs (like teaching), and dream
jobs (like writing). She now splits her time between Austin, TX and New York
City and spends her days writing, traveling, and spending way too much time on
the internet. In her books, you can expect to find humor, heart, and a whole
lot of awkward. Because let’s face it . . . awkward people need love, too..jpg)
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