The Truths about Dating and Mating Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  About Jaycee DeLorenzo

  Sample of Ocean Kills by Jade Hart

  Sample of The Crimson Hunt by Victoria H. Smith

  THE TRUTHS ABOUT DATING AND MATING

  Copyright © 2012 by JAYCEE DELORENZO

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  THE TRUTHS ABOUT DATING AND MATING

  JAYCEE DELORENZO

  For Jim.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Where is he?” I demanded of Matt Frye as I barreled through the front door of the second floor suite in Seligman Residence Hall.

  Matt, one of the four residents of 236, looked up at me from his perch on the shabby, midnight-blue couch with glassy eyes. Stoned off his ass, as usual. “Ivy, hey.” He gestured to the wall behind him with the white Wii controller in his hand. “I don’t think he’s alone.”

  “Even better,” I said as I stormed by the couch and into the small, semi-circular hall containing four closed doors. Turnabout is fair play, after all, and after the crap he pulled today...

  I pursed my lips as I stopped outside Ian’s door and pounded my fist on its heavy walnut surface. “Ian Hollister, you’ve got exactly ten seconds to open this door before I’m coming in!” While I had no qualms about breaking up whatever was going on behind the door, I had no desire to view the physical act itself. I would only go in if he forced me to make good on my threat. “Ten… nine…”

  Muffled voices and shuffling sounded from the crack under the door. Ian pulled the door open just as I spat out a terse “Three!”

  A pair of dark blue jeans rode low on his hips, the button undone. His feet and muscular chest were bare, displaying the biohazard tattoo that covered the entire left side of his torso. It extended into a tribal design over his shoulder and dipped far into the waistband of his pants. His inky-black hair was an even bigger mess than usual, and I figured the spiky strands had been finger-combed more than once by the slender redhead standing behind him. Her baleful look as she slid her slinky black dress into place over her narrow hips said she wanted to squish me under her peep-toe stilettos.

  Ian scratched the back of his neck and gave me a wary look. “Ivy, what’s up?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stared hard into his mossy-green eyes, telegraphing that playtime was over and we needed to talk. I was not having this conversation in front of one of his random hook-ups.

  The redhead dipped below Ian’s extended arm, and slid her body between us, forcing me to back up. Her fingers slid into his belt loops and she yanked him toward her so her ample breasts pressed against his chest.

  Ian’s lids lowered and he gave her a half-smile.

  “Call me anytime,” she stressed in a sultry voice, pressing her lips to his neck.

  Call me crazy, but if a guy had just kicked me out for another woman, I certainly wouldn’t be rubbing up against him like a bitch in heat. I wanted to shake her and tell her to have some self-respect… or at least do what any other normal slighted girl would do and march her ass out of there with a steady stream of epithets spewing from her mouth. But girls never acted like that with Ian. One turn around his dorm room and they were hooked.

  “Sure thing.” Ian’s eyes slid my way, and then quickly darted away.

  My presence made him uncomfortable. Good, I thought, trying to ignore the small sliver of guilt prickling at me.

  The girl lifted her head and flicked her tongue over Ian’s lower lip. “See you later, sexy.”

  And I think I just threw up in my mouth.

  The redhead’s head swung my way. She looked me up and down, snorted and rolled her hazel eyes. She recognized me. I could tell by the look on her face - the one that said I was an annoyance, but not a threat. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she strolled out of the room in four-inch kitten heels that displayed a pair of toned thighs and shapely calves I would kill to have.

  “Where’d you find that one?” I asked.

  “Laundry room.”

  “In that getup?”

  Ian scratched his head and shrugged. “She said she was all out of clean clothes.”

  “I’ll bet.” More than likely, she’d spotted him carrying his basket downstairs, threw on her slinkiest dress, and then dashed down to the basement to offer him a little “bachelor bundle.”

  But why was I questioning him about his latest hookup? We had much bigger matters to discuss. I rounded on him. “What did you say to Brian Sellars?”

  Ian’s eyes swung to mine, his dark brows knitting together. “Who?”

  I took a threatening step forward. “Don’t act innocent with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” He was lying. Well, I knew he was lying but the twitching muscles at the corners of his wide mouth confirmed it.

  “Let me remind you, then.” I took another step forward until we were less than a foot away. “Sandy blond hair, blue eyes,” I lifted up on my toes and leveled my hand at the tip of his ear, “about yea high. The guy I had a date with tonight until you had a talk with him this afternoon,” I added, my voice rising in intensity. Catching his smirk, I cuffed him upside the head.

  He chuckled and rubbed the side of his skull. “Oh, that Brian.”

  “Yeah, that Brian.” I propped my balled fists on my hips. “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing. I just told him it would be in his best interest to be a gentleman.”

  “Your. Exact. Words,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

  Ian squinted at the ceiling and scratched the whiskers on his chin. “Well, I can’t remember the exact words, but I may have mentioned it wasn’t illegal to dig a hole in the desert, and I had one all dug out for anyone who mistreated you.”

  “Ian!” I shoved him in the middle of his hard chest. He stumbled back a few steps, releasing a bark of laughter. “Why would you do that?” I asked. He’d always been good at the silent intimidation, but this was the first time he’d actually progressed to a verbal threat.

  “Oh, come on. The guy had douchebag written all over him. I was just making sure he treated you with the respect you deserve.”

  “You were just making sure I’d never get laid!”

  “Ahh!” Ian cupped his hands over his ears. “Don’t say stuff like that in front of me.”

  I shook my head at his ridiculousness. We spent Tuesday and Thursday nights at our campus radio station, advising people on the topic of relationships and sex, and yet, somehow, the
idea of me actually having sex really seemed to freak him out.

  “Don’t say stuff like what?” I asked, moving in closer. “Don’t say…” I paused and made my voice breathy, “that I wanted Brian’s gorgeous body all over mine.” I slid my hands over my torso and lowered my eyelids, hissing a breath in between my teeth. “That I wanted to feel his hot, sweaty, rippling muscles rubbing all over my—”

  Ian’s brows slanted and the corners of his mouth tipped further down. “Cut it out, Ivy.”

  I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my long, dark blonde locks, really getting into my act. “To feel him sliding between my thighs,” I said, moaning a little for effect, “giving me pleasure like—”

  He clamped his hand over my mouth. “Knock it off! I get it.”

  I smirked against his hand and batted my lashes at him. The look of horror on his face was pure comedy. “I’m sorry, was that bothering you?” I asked, my voice muffled against his hand.

  He glared down at me for a long moment before shaking his head. An affectionate smile moved over his face. “Man, you’re twisted.”

  I threw off his hand. “And you’re a pain in my ass! This overprotective brother routine is getting real old.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, giving me big, round puppy dog eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were treated the way you should be.” He blinked twice and his lower lip jutted out so far you could land a B-52 on it. “You’re my best friend. I couldn’t bear it if someone hurt you.”

  While I knew part of him was just trying to get on my good side, I also knew he really was concerned about my well-being. He always had been. I sighed. “You… suck. I hate you.”

  A slow, adorable grin spread over Ian’s face. “No, you don’t. You looooove me.” He splayed his arms wide and came at me for a hug, but I sidestepped his reach.

  “Nuh-uh, buddy. You’re not touching me while Miss Fluff n’ Fold’s sweat is still drying on your body. Go take a shower, and then we’ll talk.”

  “Oh, all right.” He nodded his head to the room behind him. “Come on in.”

  I sneered. “Not a chance. It smells like cheap sex and knockoff perfume in there.” The only thing I could smell was fresh air, since his window was wide open, but I had to give him a little crap for his cavalier sex life; it’s what I did. “I’m going to go play a few rounds with Matt. Now that I don’t have a date - thank you very much - you’re giving me a ride to work tonight. And don’t think we’re done talking about this.”

  He winked, giving me a devilish grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  ***

  Ian spun around the cramped radio station booth with a look of panic on his face. “Where the hell is my headset?”

  I deleted Brian’s text message breaking our date from my Android and looked up, spotting Ian’s missing equipment. I sank into my cushy swivel chair, kicked my legs up on the console, and bit down a chuckle. My gaze slid to Amery Archer in the adjacent engineer’s room, where she was prescreening calls. She looked over at Ian and giggled into her hand. I winked, then ducked just in time to avoid Ian’s elbow as it swung toward my ear. The time on the computer ticked down to forty-five seconds. In light of the time crunch, I let out the husky laugh bubbling in my throat. “They’re behind your ears, brainiac.”

  Ian stopped short. He raked both hands through his hair, knocking the headphones askew. “I knew that,” he said after a beat, easing into his best lazy grin. It was one he’d perfected over time, one that had the power to turn otherwise smart and capable college girls into mindless, giggling twits, ready to drop their panties at first sight.

  I rolled my eyes, immune to his charms. “Sure you did.” Dropping my legs to the ground, I tossed my phone into my bag and fished around for an elastic band. Finding one amongst the lint and scone crumbs along the bottom of a pocket, I then swept my long hair up into a sloppy ponytail. I glanced at the computer before me. “Fifteen seconds.”

  Ian flopped into his chair and spread his long, denim-encased legs wide. His grin widened, making the cheekbones he’d inherited from a distant Native American ancestor more pronounced. A teasing glint flickered in his eyes. “Ready to get down and dirty?” he asked, jiggling his brows at me.

  I licked my lips and winked, playing along with his meaningless flirtation. “I’m always ready, baby.”

  He waved his hand to the microphone. “Then by all means….”

  I sprung upright and flicked the mic on, positioning my mouth near the windscreen.

  Three…two…

  “Welcome back, Razorbacks, to another edition of Riordan College’s most titillating talk show, The Truths about Dating and Mating, with your favorite campus sex-edutainers, Ivy Rossini and Ian Hollister.”

  Ian’s head appeared beside mine. “That’s right, ladies…and gentlemen, too, I suppose,” he said with less enthusiasm. “It’s time to call in with all your dirty little stories. First time girl-on-girl experimentation, sweaty sleepover secrets, naughty camp stories, illicit touches in the showers—”

  Oh brother. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Ian.”

  He gave a start and snapped out of his spell. “Okay, I’m back. Anyway, I…”

  I cleared my throat.

  Ian gave me a cheeky grin. “We want to hear all about them. Have a question? Ain’t no problem too big or too small. Don’t be shy—we sure as hell aren’t. So give us a call at 555-KRAZ.”

  “And while Ian wipes the drool from his chin,” I grinned at his scoffing noise, “we’ll take our first caller of the night. Let’s welcome Vanessa to the show,” I said, reading the name from the computer screen.

  Ian tapped a button on the keyboard and canned applause filled the station. “So, Vanessa, any sleepover secrets you want to share?” he asked, playing up his on-air personality of the libidinous rogue.

  “Sorry?” she asked.

  He snapped his finger and feigned a heavy sigh. “Never mind.” Sliding further down in his chair, he propped his left arm behind his head. The sleeve of his black T-shirt rode up, revealing the bottom tendrils of the tattoo on his defined bicep, still a little red from the work he’d had done the previous weekend. “So, what’s up, Vanessa?”

  “Okay, so I have a question about masturbation.” She tittered nervously.

  Ian nodded, his eyes on the padded ceiling. “Ah, one of my favorite topics. And let me tell you, you’ve called one of the world’s leading experts.” He shot me a wink.

  I chuckled into my hand and Ian drew a check mark in the air. We had a long-running competition to say the most outrageous line of the night; the more creative we were, the more cool-points we earned with each other.

  “Well, I’ve never had sex,” Vanessa said, “but I’ve been masturbating since I was about thirteen—”

  “Tell me, Vanessa.” Ian lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t happen to be thinking of girls when you do it, would you?”

  I rolled my eyes in amused disgust. “Feel free to ignore him.”

  “Sure, Ivy, ruin all my fun. Please continue, Vanessa.”

  “Okay, so my roommate told me that if I keep on masturbating, it’s going to ruin my ‘adult’ sex life. Is she right?”

  It never ceased to amaze me how misinformed some people were, and it flat-out annoyed me that it was the most-uninformed who tended to spread their ignorance. “Not even a little bit, Vanessa. In fact, your ‘adult’ sex life will probably be all the better for it.”

  “Really?” Vanessa sounded both relieved and hopeful.

  How sweet, I thought, feeling a rush of satisfaction. There weren’t many rewards to the job we did. We didn’t get paid, there was no college credit, and there wasn’t much respect, either, so feeling like I’d helped a person gain more knowledge about their sexual health was the gratification I thrived on.

  “Of course, honey,” I said to her, my sisterly-instincts coming out. “Masturbation helps us discover what feels good, what doesn’t, and what really pushes us over
the edge. Knowing these things can pave the way for more fulfilling sex, as long as we’re willing to communicate what we’ve learned in our self-exploration.”

  “Ivy makes a great point,” Ian said, taking over. “There’s nothing more frustrating for a guy than being unable to pleasure his partner. We want to know what makes you lukewarm, hot, and downright nuclear. If you can’t, or won’t, express your preferences, your guy will have to fly blind, which can lead to frustration and disappointment between the sheets. The more help you give us, the better.”

  I smirked. “And just think: at least you’ll know the quickest way to finish yourself off once your guy falls asleep.”

  Ian’s head whipped to the side. “Damn!”

  I giggled; knew he’d like that one. “What can I say? More often than not the guy lacks the staying-power to finish the job… or the consideration.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Ian crossed both arms behind his head with a self-assured smile. “I’ve never heard any complaints.”

  Neither had I. Ian’s reputation as a very skilled, very intense lover was widespread on campus, even to the point where I was wild with curiosity. Not that I’d ever let him know. He’d been my best friend for fifteen years, and we’d never crossed that line.

  I gave him a humoring nod. “I’m sure you haven’t.”

  “What are you insinuating? That I’m somehow lacking in skill?”

  “I would be the last person to know, now, wouldn’t I? But the fact is most guys want to hear they’re gods in the sack, and most women are too kind to tell them the truth. We save that info for our girlfriends.”

  Ian scowled. “You know, you knock us for kissing and telling, but you women are twice as bad.”

  I dismissed his comment with a wave of my hand. “Please, that’s totally different. Guys do it to brag about their conquests. We call in the reinforcements to help analyze every little detail and discern what it all means.”

  “Like that’s so much better. And no generalizing.” Ian wagged his finger, reminding me of our long-standing rule against that kind of thing. “Not all guys brag.”