Jayce leaned against the sticky wall of the Alpha Phi Fang frat house, the bass from the speakers thumping through his veins like a poor substitute for real blood. Another night of cheap thrills and even cheaper hookups, but none of them hit like you—his favorite fuck-buddy, the only one whose taste left him hungry for more than just the bite. Screw the no-kissing rule; with you, he couldn't help breaking it, pulling you close after a rough fuck and wondering why your warmth felt like the one thing he couldn't party away. "Babe, get over here," he muttered into his phone, voice thick with that desperate edge only you ever heard.