Bad Boy Hero

by Penny Wylder

  He smells good. Incredible, really.

  “I’m a bad guy,” he says, so low I almost don’t think I heard him right. “Terrible, actually.” His gaze drops, taking in my body. Slow, like he knows I won’t move a muscle until he’s finished looking me over. His smile widens, and when his eyes meet mine again, he arches an eyebrow. “I haven’t said anything at school because I enjoy knowing something about you that no one else does. I told you. Secrets have power.”

  The way his says power makes my mouth go dry, my heart skip.

  We’re so close. Another inch and he could close the gap between us. Kiss me.

  I want him to, I realize, sudden and fierce. I’ve kissed guys before, but never guys like this. Never guys who could destroy me with a word. Never guys who get into fistfights to defend my honor, either.

  Never guys who look at me the way Keanen Kross is right now.

  I tilt my chin up, toward him. “Kiss me,” I breathe. And he does.

  5

  The second Keanen’s lips meet mine, my whole body arches up toward him. I feel like I’m on fire. My stomach clenches, and my hands move of their own accord, sliding up his chest—God, he has hard muscles. He’s lean, but he’s not scrawny. My hands reach his neck, loop around it, and his hands are moving too. Far more distractingly.

  He traces the lines of my sides. Down to the curve of my waist. Lower.

  The heat in my belly moves with his touch. Sliding deeper inside me, until my thighs press together, trembling. His hands have barely skimmed my waist, and I can already feel a throb in my pussy. I know if he touched me, he’d find I’m already wet.

  He draws back, just far enough to gaze down at me with fire in his eyes. “Missy…” He tilts his head, considering me again. I can’t get enough of him when he looks at me like that. As if he’s dissecting me.

  Then his hand slides between my thighs, up, up, until he grips my pussy through my jeans, his thumb right over my clit, stroking me through the thick denim.

  “Tell me,” he whispers, his mouth just an inch from mine. I groan, my eyes fluttering half-closed. “Do you want me to fuck you? Right here, right now.” He moves against my leg, and I can feel the hard press of his cock, even through his jeans and mine. God he feels big. Through his pants, no less. I can’t imagine how hard and thick he’d feel without any clothes between us.

  Another thrill passes through me. Because yes, fuck yes, I want him right this second. But we’re still standing in this dingy, poorly lit alleyway. An alley right next to the bar where I work, where at any moment another customer could stumble out and discover us, just like the man Keanen just drove off.

  I swallow hard, glancing up the street, even though it takes serious effort to drag my gaze from Keanen’s sharp, piercing one. “I…”

  “Don’t worry about them.” He smirks. “I already made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted. Anyone still at the bar will be exiting through the back.”

  But his words hit home. Make me realize… I lean back a little, though not far enough to break free from his arms entirely. Or to dislodge his hand, still between my legs, his thumb still kneading right across my clit in slow, easy circles. Circles that are making me desperate for him to press harder.

  “But,” I murmur. “If you locked the door before you found me out here, then you already knew…”

  He arches a brow. “I knew that creep would try to accost you? I have to admit, I did anticipate something of the kind, when I saw the way he was staring at you inside. You really don’t have much of a sense of your surroundings, do you, Missy?”

  I bristle. Try to twist free now, but Keanen holds on. Backs me against the wall. “So, what? You planned to fuck me yourself, is that it?”

  “Do you want me to stop?” As soon as he says that, he releases me, both my waist, and the hand between my legs. He steps back, and the cold night air rushes between us, twice as cold now that I don’t have the heat of Keanen’s body pressed against mine anymore.

  “I…” Fuck. I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to tell him I’m not that predictable; that I won’t give into him just because he’s got a sexy smirk and searing eyes and the kind of long, lean body that I’m dying to touch all over. Not to mention that brief taste of his thick cock that I felt.

  He steps back, still smirking. “Or do you want more of this?” He reaches out to catch my hand, and pulls my wrist toward him. Pushing my palm right over his cock. I tighten my grip, reflexive, and trace the length of him, the hard press. God I want him. It’s enough to make my breath catch, my pulse race, my clit throbbing and aching between my legs.

  “I want…” I swallow hard, torn.

  “Yes?” He steps closer again, and then his hand is against my belly, flattened. He slides it lower, lower. I watch him go, my eyelids fluttering shut, as his fingers delve beneath the waistband of my jeans. He keeps going, and I bite my lower lip, trying to keep my wits about me. It’s hard, with his hand sliding closer and closer to the pulsing, needy core of me.

  His fingertips reach my shaven mound, and his smirk widens. “Any time you want me to stop, say the word,” he murmurs. His hand keeps sliding, lower, lower. His fingertips brush the sensitive hood of my clit, ever so lightly, and yet I inhale sharply, my hips practically bucking up off the brick wall and toward him. My hips move of their own accord, thrusting against his palm.

  He laughs softly, and leans forward to push me back against the wall, my ass colliding with it as his fingers spread my pussy lips wide.

  He pushes a finger inside me, and I moan aloud. “Keanen…” Fuck me, my whole body is screaming, every fiber of my being. I want him to fuck me right up against this wall, in this dirty alley where anyone could stumble across us. I don’t give a fuck.

  He pushes a second finger inside me, and sparks dance at the edges of my vision. I’m so wet that his fingers glide in and out of me with ease, hardly needing to try at all. His thumb nestles up against my clit again, not rubbing yet, just pressing gently against me, and it’s nearly enough to make me shudder to an orgasm already.

  Fuck. He knows how to touch women. He knows how to touch me, in a way I can already tell is so different from the few guys I hooked up with in high school, all fumbling and awkward.

  But at the same time… it’s infuriating how guys like Keanen always get what they want. He backed me into this alley knowing he would fuck me out here, and part of me wants to disappoint him. Show him that money can’t buy everyone in this town.

  “Actually,” I say, slowly. I reach down to catch his wrist. Then, with every ounce of willpower I possess, I pull his hand up. Away from my pussy. “I don’t want to fuck you tonight.”

  I’m rewarded by a flash of genuine surprise in Keanen’s eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look surprised by anything, and it gives me a twisted sort of thrill.

  Not as big of a thrill as that thick cock of his probably would have given you, complains the other side of my brain, the animal part that wants to take it all back and jump him right here. Fuck the consequences.

  But I’ve been around enough guys like Keanen to know where that will lead. And I don’t want to go down that road. I’ve got enough on my plate between schoolwork and this job. The last thing I need right now is to get embroiled in some romantic drama with the hottest asshole in school.

  He said it himself. I’m a bad guy. He’s still standing there, watching me quietly now. Something more than just heat in his gaze now. Curiosity. Desire.

  I force a smile of my own, mimicking his usual cocky grin. “I’ll see you at school, Keanen.” Then I shoulder my purse and brush past him, just close enough to bump my arm against his, the hot touch of his skin on mine sending fire through my veins. I stride away, knowing his eyes are following me, focused on my ass.

  I can’t help it. I smile, just a little, my face still flushed. Keanen might be holding a secret over me, but now I have one over him, too.

  I know what he wants.

  Me.

 
6

  I don’t see Keanen for two days. I tell myself I’m not looking for him, but that’s a lie. He’s been on my mind nonstop since he cornered me in the alley. Every time I close my eyes at night, I see his eyes gazing down at me, his knowing little smirk.

  I’m a bad guy, he whispers in my dreams. Do you want me to fuck you?

  Except in my dreams, my answer is different. Yes, I scream. Yes, please, God. And in my dreams, he pins me against that alley wall, unbuttoning my jeans with one deft hand, pushing them down with the other. And God, his cock is as big as I imagined, thick and swollen at the tip. When he pushes himself inside me, I scream aloud at the pleasure of it, the feeling of being so full I can hardly stand upright.

  In my dreams, he fucks me all night, until I’m breathless from coming.

  I wake up with stars blinking at the corners of my vision, and slide a hand under the blankets to press a hand to my soaking wet pussy. I’ve had sexy dreams before, but nothing like these. None that make me wake up in a cold sweat, already pushing my fingers inside myself, desperate for release.

  I come at least twice before I drag myself to the dorm shower, and yet it never feels like enough. Because my fingers, my imagination, aren’t enough to sate me.

  Only Keanen can do that now, I realize, and I both love and hate the feeling of being so totally under his spell.

  But at least he doesn’t have to know it, yet.

  Monday night—one of my few nights off since I got to Tanglewood, because thankfully the bar is closed at the start of the week—I wind up at a sorority mixer with Leah and Sara. It’s my first big social event, and I’m enjoying the chance to let my guard down, actually have fun. Leah fetches us drinks from the bar—some kind of fruity punch that tastes dangerous, because you can’t taste the booze in it at all.

  I’m halfway through my second cup, pleasantly buzzed, when someone calls my name.

  “Missy, right?” Bette stumbles toward our group, away from a cluster of impeccably dressed girls. She looks like she’s wearing full on designer, head-to-toe. For a Monday night sorority mixer.

  My stomach sinks. I’m wearing a black dress I found on sale in an online shop, paired with the same Converse she teased me for last time we met. Crap. But I force a smile, and try to fake the confidence I don’t feel. “That’s me. How’ve you been?” We’ve said hello once or twice around campus, but I haven’t really talked to her since that first day here.

  Bette glances from me to my duo of friends and back, her smirk widening. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I haven’t seen you anywhere, in fact, since the semester started. Where do you girls hide her?” She glances at Leah and Sara, then back again, wide-eyed. Waiting.

  “Um… well, I’ve been kinda busy, and—”

  “She’s such a homebody.” Leah tries to save me, patting my arm.

  “Boring.” Bette pouts. “Missy, I thought you were going to be more fun this year!” Her expression turns sly. In that moment, more than at any other that I’ve known her, Bette reminds me of her brother. “Or has something more… interesting got your attention lately, hmm?”

  I freeze, my mouth drying up. Of course my mind immediately leaps to the alleyway. To Keanen backing me up against the wall, sliding his hand under the waistband of my jeans. Do you want more of this? I can still hear his low, husky voice, the taste his lips on mine.

  “Oh, just, y’know, getting used to managing all the classwork we have here, and, uh…” What do rich people do for fun? “Going shopping of course.” I laugh, a little too high-pitched, and Bette’s gaze drips over my outfit, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly.

  Damn. I knew I wasn’t prepared for this level of scrutiny.

  But before I can change the subject or try to distract her, a now-familiar baritone voice interrupts us. “Bette. I do hope you’re not terrorizing our Missy. You know you’ve got a bad habit of doing that.”

  Shit. Keanen.

  My stomach drops all the way through the floor now. Beside me, Leah and Sara have gone silent and wide-eyed, gawking at the show.

  Bette turns to face her brother, one hand on her hip, her sly expression immediately souring into something far more dangerous. She looks… pissed. “Our Missy, hmm?” She glances from Keanen to me, and back again, her eyes narrowing. “Please tell me you’re not desperate enough to rebound on this poor innocent freshman girl. She doesn’t know how terrible you can be.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure she does.” Keanen, for his part, glances straight past his sister as if she’s not even there, his eyes fixing on mine.

  I can’t look away. I want to—I know I should. I should pretend there’s nothing between us, try to calm Missy down, since she’s clearly furious about the possibility. But my heartbeat is so loud it’s echoing in my eardrums, pulsating at my throat.

  And Keanen’s staring at me the same way he did in the alley. As if he wants to devour me whole, right here and now, no matter who’s watching.

  Beside us, Bette scoffs. “Unbelievable. Three weeks into your senior year and you’re already slumming it. Well, I’m sure father will love to hear about you taking the scholarship kid under your wing.”

  My cheeks flush bright red at that. When I glance over, Leah and Sara are inching away now, as if they want to put physical distance between themselves and me. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to hang out with me either, right now. Not with all this coming out. “Who said,” I start, but Bette cuts me off.

  “Please. You think I don’t know who we—I mean, who our father is kindly issuing scholarship grants to every year?” Her gaze drips over my outfit again. “If I didn’t know already, though, that dress would be a dead giveaway, I have to tell you.”

  Keanen finally looks away at that, the storm cloud on his face darkening. “Do you always have to be such a shit, Bette?”

  His sister’s jaw drops. For a moment, she’s silent. In fact, the whole room is. I dare a glance away from the drama to realize that every person in the sorority house living room right now is gawking at us, red Solo cups of booze in hand. I feel like an animal on display at a zoo.

  Suddenly, nausea hits me. All I want to do is run. Get out of here as fast as I can.

  “I can’t believe you’re choosing her over your own family,” Bette finally hisses, low and furious.

  “Well, you’re making it pretty damn easy to.” With that, Keanen shoulders past her and grabs my wrist, jerking me from the hazy daze I’d fallen into. “Come on. We’re going.”

  Grateful for the excuse to flee, even if it is with the most dangerous boy on campus for me, I let him lead me gently through the crowd of the party. As we near the door, the crowds part before us, people still watching with open awe—and maybe a hint of giddiness, too. I hear more than a few smothered laughs as we shoulder outside, into fresh air.

  The moment we hit fresh air, I gasp it in, my heart still pounding, my stomach a wobbly mess. “Fuck,” I murmur.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Keanen keeps leading me around the back of the house, toward a row of trees nicknamed Senior Row. We brush through the trees, and then we’re alone, just him and me, surrounded by tall oak trees, the leaves just beginning to turn a riot of fall colors, shielding us from view.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt, as soon as we’re safely alone in the wooded hideaway. “I didn’t mean to start a fight between you and your sister—”

  “You didn’t,” he cuts me off. “She did that all herself.” He releases me, and I realize we’re standing in a familiar pose. My back is up against a wide tree trunk, the bark pressing gently against the fabric of this dress. He’s standing in front of me, just a few inches away. Far enough I can’t feel the heat from his body, although I want to.

  As if reading my mind, he takes a step closer. Closes the distance between us. “You know, I’m not used to being told no,” he says, his voice dropping lower now.

  “I could’ve guessed that.” I tilt my head to one side, my eyes holding his. I raise my chin jus
t a little, to show he’s not affecting me.

  Even though he is. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire right now.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asks. “Because I haven’t.” He reaches out, tentative. His hands are inches from my waist. He’s so close now that I can feel heat radiating from his body, even through his jeans and his pressed white shirt.

  I want to reach for him. Grab him, pull him against me.

  Instead, I place one hand square in the center of his chest. I can feel his heartbeat. Slow and steady, whereas mine is a riot of nerves. “I heard a rumor you’ve got a girlfriend,” I say, because I need to know before this goes any further. I don’t mess with men who are taken.

  Keanen arches an eyebrow, that smirk of his widening. “Been asking around, about me, have you?”

  I scoff. “Hardly. You know you’re all half the girls in this school talk about.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Lake.” He takes another step closer, close enough that his thighs brush mine. His hands fold around my waist, and I suck in a sharp breath, resisting the urge to melt against him. Not until he gives me an answer. He tilts his head to the side, studying my face. “No, I do not have a girlfriend. I’m not like that.” He glances away, something darkening his eyes for a moment. “I had one, last year. It didn’t end well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply, genuinely meaning it.

  But his eyes are back on mine in an instant, hotter than ever. “I’m not. She was the wrong person for me. But you… You’re so different, Missy. From anyone I’ve ever met. The way you work hard for what you want; and don’t let anyone else stand in your way…”

  My cheeks flush. “Keanen…”

  His hands slide down my hips. Over them. His fingertips toy with the hem of the dress. “I want you,” he breathes. “Tell me I can have you, or I swear I’m going to lose my mind.”

  This time, there’s no way I can resist. I arch up against him, my body responding to his touch without my conscious will having anything to say about it. “I’m all yours,” I murmur. That’s all it takes.