Текст книги "F*ck Buddy"
Автор книги: Scarlet North
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F*ck Buddy
A Stepbrother Romance
COPYRIGHT 2015 SCARLET NORTH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Website: http://www.ScarletNorth.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher or author. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy as it has been pirated.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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F*CK BUDDY
What part of f*ck buddy don't you understand?
It was just supposed to be a quick hook-up. At least that's what I had in mind when I agreed to meet the insanely hot guy on the dating website. The guy with the sexy eyes, and the killer smile... or smirk, as though he already knew any girl would want him. Or at least sleep with him. Because that's all it was supposed to be.
Until it wasn't.
The last thing I wanted was for stupid ‘girly’ emotions to get involved. Guys can get away with casual sex and hook-ups, yet us women always seem to let our hearts get in the way. Give me a break. I was fed up with losers, and determined to just have some fun for the first time in my life. No strings attached. And you never know, maybe let loose and explore my darker side. Nothing as crazy as what Christian Grey might deliver, but something new...something different.
Well, believe me, I got different. It was an absolute sexual awakening. A night unlike any other, and now I'm left wanting more. Much more.
That wasn't the plan. That wasn't what I signed up for.
Damn him... he wasn't supposed to be so intoxicating. So wickedly addictive. So incredibly perfect for me.
Except he isn't. He's the one guy I should never have slept with. He was supposed to be a f*ck buddy, and now he isn’t just the man I can’t stop thinking about – he’s my damn stepbrother. FML.
NOTE TO READERS: THIS IS A FULL-LENGTH STANDALONE ROMANCE NOVEL WITH A HEA.
Table of Contents
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
About Scarlet North
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Jackie
"Look, I'm sorry if I led you on."
Was he... actually fucking serious right now?
Jackie's brow quirked.
If he'd led her on? He was joking, right?
"What are you talking about, Colin?"
Slowly, he was transforming before her eyes from the caring, potential boyfriend she foolishly begun to categorize him as, into a predatory panty-sniffer who'd finally decided he had his fill.
Wide-eyed and obviously fumbling for a reason that would get him away from her as fast as possible, he just barely managed to stutter over his words. Running a hand through his sandy, brown hair, he took a breath and leaned back against the door frame.
His body language was crystal clear. She'd been welcome while she'd been a shiny new toy, but since that fateful (stupid) night she'd foolishly let him past the sacred gate, he'd learned she had substance.
Jackie didn't fit his bimbo stereotype.
Hence... the running shoes, and look of utter disgust on her face at the loser.
"I was only looking for a little fun, you know?"
"And... I wasn't?"
Colin smiled, the cobalt blues of his eyes flashing with the charm (that initially masked what an utter idiot he was) coming back online now. Jackie ignored the clean, masculine scent of him, and forced her eyes to keep from dipping below his waist to the one redeeming quality even his idiocy could never wipe from the happy vault in her memory.
Sighing, she folded her arms over her chest.
Smart girls don't ignore red flags.
"You're special, you know. The kind of girl a guy needs to invest in. But I don't have a lot of time with school, see..."
His words took on a rambling, amorphous monotone, and she suddenly felt like she was in a Charlie Brown segment as their meaning and distinction faded off from her. Colin Smith had become a rising star in the culinary world after his stint on the 'Chef Academy' reality show. Someone she'd stupidly let herself become star struck by. Not that she hadn't been warned to proceed with caution.
"Jackie? Did you even hear me?"
Blinking out of thought, she lifted her eyes from his abs where she'd trained her gaze, while she considered where her intelligence had gone when she'd let him conjure the panties off of her.
She, uh, hadn't heard a word after his pathetic attempt to 'let her down easy.'
"Sorry. I was... distracted."
Jackie grinned for good measure, the bedroom eyes the gods had gifted her with staring up at him innocently. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of seeing her faced etched with disappointment. She'd been a conquest. That much was clear now. Fine. But she'd leave him wondering if she'd actually wanted more than to get in his pants. A girl's got to maintain her dignity, especially surrounded by as many panty-hounds as there were at the 'Shoreline School of Culinary Arts.'
"I was saying-"
"Hey, can we talk about this later? I just came to grab my t-shirt. I have something at seven, so... my time is kind of short tonight. Sorry to cut you off."
"Oh."
His mouth formed a slight, surprised circle before he recovered it and flashed her a stock smile.
"Right. Forget it. It's not important. With the new commercial, I think my head is all over the place, you know?"
"Uh huh..."
Stepping past him into his dorm, Jackie searched through his piled up dragon-treasures of bachelorhood, gift boxes from hopeful sponsors, and empty cans of "study fuel" energy drinks, for her prized Skullz tee. It had been Roxanne's shirt before she left for Japan and decided to relieve her closet of some of the glittering frocks and concert, fan gear Jackie had been eying for years.
Jackie was angry as hell when she'd realized she left it at this jack ass's dorm. Not that she'd expected to get "the break-up spiel" when she came to retrieve it. She'd been sharing his bed for a few weeks now, surely long enough for her to pop up and get her things when she needed them.
It was amazing how easily guys got cold feet the minute a sexual arrangement began to look like it might actually be going somewhere. She shouldn't be surprised in this case, but... she sort of was. Colin had seemed different. Like he had more depth than most of the meatheads of their era. Ah, well. You live; you learn.
He was a charmer and the new figurehead for the graduating class. He'd probably been performing all of his life with nearly everyone he came into contact with. And she'd fallen for it. Shame on her for thinking he was different.
She wouldn't make that mistake again. Jackie liked to learn from her little stumbles on the early road to adulthood, thank you very much.
Finally spotting her prize, she snatched it up from beneath his bed, crumpled the tee into her purse, and forced herself to kiss his cheek before she made her way out of his dorm. Even left him with a: "Take care of yourself." It served him right. He'd second-guess how he'd handled her, then he'd notice she was never around the usual hangouts on campus, and then... he'd call.
Except, now she wouldn't answer.
This whole experience had leadened her gut tonight. It hadn't been the first time she'd been given the polite brush off, or the "too special to rush things with speech," but it would be the last. Jackie was done with his particular brand of asshole. And she was also done leaving the ball in the court of men. If she wanted companionship, she'd just go out and get it. Like a freaking adult. And she'd be careful not to leave her precious things at the apartments of any of her future bed mates.
Passing out of the lobby, the dorm hall doors slammed closed behind her with a punctuating clang, and the cool dusk air swept her glossy, black hair from her face as she rushed through the parking lot. Pulling the buzzing phone from her pocket, she lifted it and frowned.
That was quick. She'd only just left, and he was already calling. Frowning, she swiped the screen and sent the call to voicemail.
No more overgrown boys. Jackie wanted to know what it felt like to be with an actual man for once.
~
So, the night was shaping up to be a boring one, and she was still annoyed. Watching a rerun of Iron Chef while she stroked Merlin absentmindedly, she glanced down at the orange, fur ball, and smiled at her greedy-gummed friend.
Even when she wasn't letting him try this dish or that, he was sneaking into the cupboards and ripping into the gourmet trail mix she'd recently masterminded with her mother.
He was probably the only cat in existence with a regular jones for raisins and cashews. Gatekeeper of the cupboards: Merlin Grey.
Lifting him up half-way, she gave him a smacking kiss on the nose that he didn't scrunch away from this time, and set him back on the couch, rising up herself with an exaggerated stretch. It was Friday night, and she was starting to lose respect for herself for letting Colin get under her skin, even a little.
Because no matter how she framed it: he had – even with her masterfully playing off her disappointment with his lacking maturity. The fact was, he didn't deserve her discontent. Come to think of it, no man deserved it.
If she had it her way, men would suffer the same expected behaviour that they expect from women, such as having Häagen-Dazs nights, in their PJs, watching syndicated reruns, while they battled with the haunting imagery of the objects of their affections flirting with this guy or that.
Stereotypes relegated those kinds of bullshit experiences to women, and Jackie for one was done with them. Women could play it aloof, too. It wasn't like she didn't have a ton of studying ahead of her, and the increasing workload involved in building a miniature snack empire didn't leave her with a lot of playtime.
All she really needed was a sometimes-companion, anyways. A fuck buddy. A sizzling, hot demi-god who made her forget the pressure on her shoulders, but wasn't too dumb to hold a conversation that stimulated her mind.
She could find one of those, right?
Maybe, on one of those dating sites? Jackie's face took on a measuring expression. It worked for her friend Lela. Hell, she and Paolo were still together. It had to be better than speed dating, which she'd tried once, and absolutely loathed.
What Jackie wanted was a night she'd never forget, with a guy whose presence captured masculinity in the raw. Someone she didn't necessarily want a future with who claimed her like a women needed to be claimed.
Popping the top on a gourmet soda her mom wanted her to try out, she leaned back against her kitchen counter with her thoughts consumed by the prospect of it. She was being silly, no? It was brazen, as hell, and it wasn't the kind of game she should be playing unless she was absolutely sure she wouldn't turn back the minute she got her heels on.
Jackie tended to be mercurial like that, true to the definition of the sign of the twins. But when she was fired up, she could get past her fickleness and set her mind on a course she'd stick to.
And this was a course that made sense:
She'd get what she wanted out of the deal.
He'd get what he probably only wanted.
No hearts would be twisted up or bruised in the cruel illusory maw of possibility, as it wouldn't even rear its head because an arrangement is an arrangement. Like a business deal. The more that she thought about it, she couldn't help but smile at how perfect it actually was.
Downing more of her peach soda, she set the can on her counter with a glint in her dark eyes. What was she waiting for? Waiting would turn to second-guessing, and she was doing this (one step for womankind, damn it).
She was joining the man-eater club.
What was that site Lela had used?
Something hearts, she puzzled. It would come back to her.
Nipping her lip contemplatively, Jackie strolled down the hall to her computer with a sense of renewed purpose, the earlier shame of having been half-rejected by a complete simpleton fanned away in the winds of a brilliant new solution. It was simple, but perfect: Romance, hot and sticky, but with no strings. This time with the woman in control.
It couldn't fail.
Everyone won with that kind of arrangement.
Sliding into the computer chair parked at her bedside, she cracked open her netbook and logged past the privacy guards, her heart thumping a little more heartily all the while. There'd been a time when she'd found the idea of dating sites relatively repulsive, but she'd been younger then and inclined to prejudge everything and file it under: #ewww.
A little older now, she saw how much sense it made. You input your interests and what you liked, and site algorithms matched you up with a man who fit the bill. The beautiful part was he was looking for qualities that matched yours, so it was win as long as everyone was entering the truth about themselves.
Fast food romance for the win. Customized exactly to your tastes.
Typing in Two of Hearts, she waited while the DSL connection loaded, reminding herself to upgrade to cable when the promo period was up. She was making far better money now and deserved to leave the world of optimized dial-up in the dust where it belonged.
Her chin ticked up.
She was going to be changing a lot of things.
It's funny how some setbacks can inspire you to clean house, and rearrange your approach to life. Curses, which at their heart were assuredly blessings. Jackie was feeling like a new woman already. She liked where this was going, this... empowerment angle.
Clicking on the dating site's splash page, she sat back in her swivel chair as it offered up several rows of checkboxes, dials, and multiple-choice questions.
A slow smile spread over her face, and she leaned forward, ready to tell the site about herself and what she was looking for. Yep, she was in, and she wasn't turning back. Settling in, she resolved herself to the half-hour it was going to take to fill out the entry form.
Which was just as tedious as it sounds.
But barely an hour passed into her site browsing experience when a ding-notification sent a flush of anticipatory heat to her cheeks. Efficient. The site was set up to allow you a peek at different users, even those who didn't match your preferences while you waited for match-reports.
It was a cool feature, but probably not one that was used a great deal because she hadn't found anyone who'd really caught her eye that way so far, and the few she had been pulled in by were notably not what she was looking for on a mental level.
Jackie hadn't allowed herself to become discouraged, though, and as the red heart flashed above her shiny, new inbox, she got even more fired up at the prospect of what lay behind door number one. Grinning, she reached over and clicked it open, leaning in to ogle the avatar of the smoke-eyed, dark-haired demi god staring back at her.
Can you say "Jackpot?"
Mouth parting agape, she clicked the avatar to visit his profile and drink in his pictures. Was it even possible to be that gorgeous? She'd honestly been expecting a nice-looking guy, but this one... He could have modeled for CK ads and dated supermodels. Instead, his profile told her he was interested in girls like her: dark-haired, voluptuous, and smart.
"Ladies who had more to offer."
She undoubtedly liked the outer package, but hell, she appreciated the mind already, too. ...If he was actually being upfront, of course. Clicking on his picture folder, she nipped her lower lip, dragging her teeth over it before loosing it.
An absolutely heart-stopping, spine-tingling, absolutely gorgeous god of a man.
Not even a demi-god.
Drawing a breath of courage, Jackie swallowed her nerves and clicked on the IM. The green button by his name told her he was online. Quickly typing into the message box, she deleted the first thing she wrote, opting for something simpler: "What's up?"
Liam
"He's good, book him for the shoot. No. I'm paying a grand for one shoot. Firm. Forget the Diva shit. He lacks the position for it. Don't forget how much this'll do for his portfolio. Raw Ink's name alone will get him a merch ad. Yep. Alright. Call me if he bites."
Clicking off his mobile, Liam sat back at his desk, looking down at the shot of the model that had made him want to hire the kid in the first place. He had a look that would fit the next generation Raw Ink – Europe. Liam was getting tired of being the face of the US shops, let alone the international ones. It'd been a hell of a ride at first, but fanfare quickly reveals the true character of the people you come into contact with at the fame level of things.
When you're a celebrity face with any level of cashable notoriety, the sharks come circling in their shiny, bespoke suits, vamp-red lipstick, stilettoes, and merch deals.
At least, he wasn't so big that he had paparazzi hounding him, yet. With his temper, he'd catch cases over that variation of bullshit; Liam was smart enough to back away now before he got in too deep.
He was more than satisfied with his level of renown in the ink community. He'd be able to work the conventions and reality shows for a while for side cash and promotional value.
Greed corrupts.
He really didn't need any more than he already had. Especially where the brainless bimbos were concerned. The last thing he wanted was to upgrade to a soulless trophy wife itching to write a tell-all the minute things went south. Liam's tastes were simpler than that. He'd met and bedded a lot of women in his 28 years, but he'd yet to meet a woman who challenged him intellectually, and fed the animal lust that had won him a serious reputation as a lady killer.
He wasn't. A lady killer, that is. He had a healthy, sexual appetite, but it was the sort that was hungry for all that a woman had to offer, body and soul. He wasn't interested in a woman who looked great in bed, but couldn't handle her own at a poker table, in a business meeting, or even in a friendly game of paintball.
And as simple and reasonable as it might sound to find a beauty with brains and a personality, he'd been striking out left and right for awhile now. The mentors of today's generation had taught them all to be material girls with an emphasis on looking good no matter the amount of plastic it took to stuff those double-Ds. Yeah, he'd pass on the plastic Barbie’s. If he didn't bed another one for as long as he lived it would be far too soon.
Leaning back with his hands cradling his head, he let his eyes slip closed, claiming a quick Zen moment before he made the rest of the day's business calls. With Tat Con coming up in six weeks, he needed to sign a new face he could trust. It wasn't a lot of time, and he had to be sure the new kid was a complete professional if he took the job.
No hot heads. No undisciplined players. Even if Liam himself had resembled the former for most of his young life. He'd learned the perils of letting your fists think for you, firsthand, and he didn't have time to babysit anyone else right now. Not with the reality show coming up. The ink hadn't touched the final contract, yet, but he was pretty sure the execs would meet his demands without a fuss.
A ding popping up on his browser shook him out of his snatch of peace, and he lowered his hands to click the touchpad with a sigh. He had to get out of here tonight. A distraction was in order. A good one.
The Two of Hearts site logo on his screen bounced twice before zooming out and flashing an avatar that made him lean forward and squint his eyes. A whistle escaping his lips, he clicked it and sat back. He might just get that distraction, after all.
This one was a beauty.
And not in the way of the synthetic hive mind that took over most women these days. She was fucking striking. Wide, dark eyes wreathed in lashes. Lush lips that looked like they were flushed permanently red. And her body. Holy shit. Hips for days, a cinched waist, and a mesmerizing rack he couldn't take his eyes off of.
Even better? Her profile. She actually read books for pleasure, not just for school. And she was also in school, though, her listing didn't say for what. Like him, she was discreet. Just a hair to the left of anonymous. Like his, her profile gave one name only: Jackie.
He liked the way that rolled off the tongue.
Yeah, he was answering this IM.
Clicking the box, Liam grinned at the simple greeting, "What's up?"
Straight and to the point. He didn't know why, but he could already tell they were going to click. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and sucking it back, he passed on the obvious crass answer his little brain might have given if he were still 14 years old, and under its sway.
Grinning, he threw a line at her. For fun.
"Other than my heart rate, right now? How's someone with your beauty and brains on a dating site?"
Sitting back, he waited for her response, looking forward to seeing what kind of conversation this banger had. If she was at least not a giggler who agreed with everything he said, it was on for tonight – if she would have him, of course.
Shit, the more he looked at her picture, it was on tonight, even if she was a giggler.
"I joined for the articles, of course. You?"
"Same, if you mean articles of clothing when I meet my match. Fewer, the better, of course."
"Confident are we?"
"Would desperate be a better approach?"
"Depends on the girl."
"What kind of girl are you?"
"Not a desperate one."
They went on like that for awhile, and the more he messaged with this goddess, the more he wanted to see her that night for something with a deeper significance than a mere distraction. She had substance, wit, and a subdued sort of fire that he couldn't help but grin at. She'd probably whip his ass at chess if he challenged her.
Yeah, that was a turn on.
And when she agreed to meet him for a drink, he knew he couldn't just bring her anywhere. He was calling in a favor for reservations at Dark Tower Suites' VIP only lounge. Best drinks in the city. Located in the one 5-Star hotel his father didn't own.
~
Liam went with an upscale-casual approach, his button down shirt open to the a-shirt beneath, cuffs rolled up to expose the ink sleeves covering his forearms in dragon motifs.
His trousers were loose-fitted, enough to reveal his physique without him stepping too far over the metrosexual line. He was serious about his appearance, but not obsessed to the point of brow-waxing and manscaping.
And he had a brand to protect.
If he was recognized by someone inclined to take snapshots, he needed to maintain that cool, laid back persona that had launched his shops on the backs of the cleverly designed ad-campaigns he'd ensured went viral.
Slinking out of his car, he let the door close with a click.
"How long?"
"Keep it warm for awhile. If I'm not out in an hour, park it for the night."
Tucking a Benjamin and keys into the valet's palm, he gave him a nod and made his way to the service elevators. He'd tatted so many socialites here before the shops took off, he still claimed a certain amount of access that let him wander whichever way he took a notion to.
Perks of the privileged life.
One of the few things he actually appreciated about his position, aside from the independence it afforded him (the latter at the very center of why he'd gone into business for himself to begin with).
Early as usual, he strolled into the velvet-walled lounge an hour before he asked Jackie to arrive, keen to sip on a baby drink to warm himself up. He shouldn't be nervous, rarely was with these sorts of things, but he was undeniably uneasy about this meeting. Maybe because he knew what he was getting (if everything checked out, and he wasn't being catfished).
Like a lot of men, he'd been intimidated by the smart ones early on, opting instead for what was easiest. Until the flavor of "what was easiest" revealed it had next to no depth, and a woefully synthetic aftertaste he'd grown to loathe.
Still the predictability of it all had been a crutch, and he was seeing how heavily he'd leaned on it now, when he didn't have time to form a thought, let alone strategize how to lure a female who actually possessed an identity that wasn't fashioned to mimic the higher-paid bimbos of the day.
Returning the wink of a gorgeous blonde in a glittering, black evening gown slinking by like a wild cat, a burst of the old confidence rose back to the surface, and Liam was soon back on track, sure he'd be just fine when Jackie sauntered in. Ordering a warm Sake at the bar, he guzzled it, waiting until the heat of it flushed his cheeks, then he ordered one more, which he nursed for the remaining forty-five minutes he had ahead of him.
In that time, he contented himself with the adult versions of "Where's Waldo" that filled the tablet screens connected to the half-moon booths, played a few dollar slots for the sheer fuck of it, and finally settled into an internal game of "guess-the-call-girl," in which he rewarded himself with several servings from the saucer of Godiva chocolates in front of him every time a friendly conversation between strangers resulted in the passing of a credit card through a four-square swipe attached to said lady vamp's cell phone, then evolved into a quick trip upstairs to the palatial rooms of Dark Tower West.
Jackie herself didn't make an appearance until well after 10, twenty minutes later than they'd agreed. But he didn't allow his frustration with that to ruin their night. With an approving glint in his eye, he made his way over to her before she spotted him, like a wild cat identifying the one he would devour before she had a chance to get away.
Her avatar didn't hold a candle to real thing.
She was a fucking ten on the scale of real women who don't need to overcompensate to be noticed. Eyes darkening, his gaze swept over her with keen approval. She'd chosen a backless, black cocktail dress, accented with emerald drop earrings, hair swept back from her face in a classy, side bun that showed just enough ear to make him fixate on nibbling one of those tawny lobes by night's end.
This girl was well above the mark, but he had enough alcohol in him to keep from falling into any thoughts that he couldn't close the deal.
He would.
Something about the way she made his stomach flip told him she was his. And he'd learned early to believe his instincts. They hadn't steered him wrong, yet. They certainly wouldn't start now.
"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"
Tugging his collar, he leaned on the bar beside her with the confident smirk he wore like armor around the girls that made him nervous like this. His heart literally skipped a beat when her eyes turned to size him, dark and heavy, smoldering as they locked onto him. For a beat, he wasn't sure if he'd erred with the cheesy pick up line; he hadn't been seriously trying to use it.
It was an icebreaker.
Relief swept over him when a grin ticked her mouth.
"Need some time to flip through your pocket guide to 'Closing the Deal' for another one of those?"
He nipped his lip and pulled, her wit going straight to the core one look at her had already begun to awaken.
"No, I'm good. Thinking I'll just play it straight from here, or rely on my classically good looks."
He winked at her, and she leaned into the bar with a posture that told him she was intrigued now, interested enough to let him buy her a drink. Score. His eyes swept over her more brazenly than he was sure they should, and when her cheeks flushed just at the surface, he relaxed knowing it flattered her more than put her off.
Shit, why was he this nervous around her? Next his palms would start sweating like a 14 year old approaching the prettiest girl in school.
Looking him over, Jackie grinned.
"It is a classic sort of handsome. I'll give you that."
Averting her eyes, she panned the lounge, sliding back a bit in a stool seat that barely accommodated the marvellous round of her backside. This girl was a certified banger.
Ass. For. Days.
The kind you took it slow with, but Liam knew himself. He didn't do slow. He'd be all over her if he saw even the slightest hint of a green light in those inky, lotus eyes of hers. Leaning deeper over the counter, he ticked his head at the bartender who lowered his rag with a stone face, making his way over.
"Help you?"
The kid looked young, almost prepubescent, and it was clear by the thinly-veiled glare in his eyes that he wasn't impressed with the clientele he served.
He was probably someone with a hard background who'd taken the gig strictly to fund ambitions lofty enough to buy him a better lease on life. Liam knew that look and the torment that fuelled it. He was all too familiar with life on the 'wrong side of the tracks,' and he had the scars to prove it, inside and out.
Turning to catch Jackie looking him over, to his flattered surprise, he flashed her a grin that told her he'd caught her checking him out, and when her cheeks flushed once more, he felt a tightening in his pants from the strain of his interest.
"Red or white?"
"Hmm? Oh. Red."
His kind of girl.
"We'll take a bottle of Port. Top shelf."
"Sure thing."
~
Three glasses in, the raven-haired beauty warmed enough to laugh a little more openly at his intentionally, bad jokes, and Liam was well on his way to closing the deal when his fingers grazed hers, flirting a light brush over the cuticles of her lacquered black nail beds.
Everything about her dazzled him. Her beauty. Her style. Her wit. And she was fiery, too. More than he'd imagined after their IM on Two of Hearts. It was subtle, though. She was clearly centered in her strength, but she didn't feel a need to flaunt it. Which made her fire realer than that of the loud-mouthed, domineering types.
