No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Stevie J. Cole

  “I mean, finger fucked, tongue fucked… but not fucked-fucked.”

  Heat engulfed my face, and I feigned a sudden fascination with the label on the tequila bottle as I elbowed Bellamy.

  A girl pushed up from the table, disappearing inside.

  We kept going through questions until there were only four of us left seated, and I had a slight buzz from the tequila.

  After a never have I ever given or received a bathroom blowjob, Wolf glared at me through a drunken haze. “There is no way you’re this pure, Paris Hilton.” He hiccupped before slamming back against the seat. As much as he drank, he was going to throw up later.

  “Or you’re just asking the wrong questions,” I said. “Screwing in a Dayton High bathroom. Really? That’s just gross.”

  On a snort, he staggered to his feet, grabbing the arm of the blonde beside him. “Congratu-fucking-lations! You win,” he said, leading her into the house.

  And then it was just Bellamy and me and the hum of noise from the party inside.

  “Wow,” I mumbled. “That is…” The words trailed off when Bellamy’s eyes dropped to my lips. Something wild coursed through my veins, stirred to life by a combination of tequila and him. His smell, his touch, that devastating smirk that got me every time.

  His hand trailed along the inside of my thigh while his lips brushed my neck. I may have only been tipsy, but his touch made me feel absolutely drunk.

  “Do you like it when I touch you, baby girl?”

  “I shouldn’t,” I breathed, leaning into his chest as his hand wandered farther.

  “You’re right.” His teeth raked my throat. “You really shouldn’t.”

  Shouldn’t and wouldn’t were a million miles apart where Bellamy West was concerned. I had hated him, wanted him, reasoned as to why he was a terrible idea, and every time it came back to basic animal instinct that was as natural as breathing.

  There was nothing rational about it. He was awful, but the tequila made the voice of reason a muffled whisper I no longer cared for.

  His finger skimmed an inch higher. I shifted, spreading my legs just enough to give him access.

  “But you’re just full of bad decisions, aren’t you?” he mumbled against my neck.

  “Only when you’re involved.”

  “Good.”

  His fingertips brushed my cheek, and just when the heat of his lips touched mine, the back door banged open and people stumbled out.

  On a groan, Bellamy tugged down my skirt, grabbed the tequila, then led me through the overgrown backyard to a ratty trampoline.

  He hoisted himself over the springs, then pulled me up beside him. And the second my back hit the material, he was on top of me, fisting my hair and kissing me. His hands roamed over my body, bunching my skirt before his warm palms slid over my thighs. This was no longer simply me wanting to fuck him and get whatever this was out of my system, and I was no longer resisting this because I thought I’d lose all dignity. This was me being terrified of losing all control.

  I shifted, rolling on top of him and straddling his lap.

  “You know, you never got me expelled.”

  “But I did fuck up your life…” His hands grasped my hips, forcing my hips over him on a groan.

  I wasn’t sure if he had fucked up my life, because really, he’d somehow become a highlight in it.

  “Do you know how long I’ve thought about having you?” His hands went to my ass, squeezing as his mouth worked down my throat to the top of my breasts.

  “Since you had me in that van?”

  “No. I’ve wanted to fuck you since I had you in that van.”

  Fuck me—have me. Two different things. One of which I never expected from him.

  He flipped me over and shoved my dress up my thighs. With every touch, I melted for him, and that scared me because he already felt like so much more than simple lust to me.

  “I’ve wanted you since you got me arrested.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “Of course it is…”

  28

  Bellamy

  The noise from the party had died down to a low hum of music. I stared up at the few stars that managed to break through the electric glow of the city, then sucked the taste of her off my fingers.

  As much as I’d wanted to, I didn’t try to fuck her. And it had absolutely nothing to do with our agreement. As far as I was concerned, that had been null and void since that party at Bennett’s. Since I’d realized this was a hell of a lot more than needing a simple fuck. And that sent anxiety rippling through me because she was going to leave in a few months.

  I swept the hair away from her neck, and she caught my hand, pulling it close to her face. “Never forget where you’re from; someone will remind you,” she read the words of my tattoo.

  “DMX knows his shit.”

  I stared at the script inked on my wrist. That was my first tattoo—at sixteen. With Zepp and Hendrix, we all got the same lyrics. Because being from Dayton...no matter where we ended up in life, someone would remind us, if for nothing other than to kick us down.

  “And the other one?”

  “It’s Linkin Park. ‘All I want to do is be more like me and less like you.’” And that one I’d had inked just to remind myself I didn’t have to turn out like my dad.

  “Great song.” Her finger traced over the ink.

  “You don’t look like the kinda girl who would listen to hard rock.”

  “No?” She smiled. “What am I supposed to listen to? Taylor Swift?”

  “Probably. Or Katy Perry. Maybe Cardi B?” I laughed.

  “I got you arrested, Bellamy. If that doesn’t scream, In This Moment then I don’t know what does.”

  It totally did. “You’re the black sheep of Barrington, you realize that? Listening to heavy metal. Hanging out with the bad boys from the other side of the tracks.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” Her fingers drifted along the inside of my arm, a small smile playing over her lips. “Those expensive boarding schools people send their kids to, thinking they’ll make them perfect little clones of themselves—they’re a breeding ground for daddy issues and rebellion.”

  “You don’t say?”

  She swept a hand down her body. “Their finest example. Because I really, really like bad boys.”

  “No, baby girl.” I leaned over her and covered her lips with mine. “You only like this bad boy.” My tongue dipped into her mouth, my body shifting on top of hers.

  I was thinking there may be a round two, until Nora screamed Drew’s name from across the yard.

  Drew groaned. “Shit,” she mumbled against my lips.

  Footsteps crunched over the dry grass, then stopped. “Gross!”

  Deepening the kiss, I raised my middle finger in the direction of Nora’s voice.

  “I can’t find Diane.” Nora huffed, and Drew shoved me off. “She texted telling me to leave her here. And I have a curfew.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Drew sat up, shaking the pine straw from her hair, a concerned expression wrinkling her brow. “Where’s Hendrix?”

  Nora rubbed at her temples. “I swear, between the two of you…”

  “Oh, come, Nora,” I wrapped an arm around Drew. “Get off your high horse. You lost your V-card to Wolf freshman year.”

  Drew glanced from me to Nora with wide eyes. “Oh my God. You did not, Nora?”

  “She did…” Was it my business to spread? No. But it was obvious that Nora wanted Drew to have nothing to do with me. Which made her a hypocrite, and I was an asshole, so...

  Nora flipped me off. “I’m taking your car, Drew. Come on.”

  I grabbed Drew’s wrist, then bit her neck. “Stay here.”

  “I’m not fucking you in some room of Hendrix’s brothel house.”

  “Fine. You can fuck me out here.”

  “No fucking in the proximity of Hendrix’s gross house.”

  Nora grumbled. “Are you leaving or staying?”

/>   “She’s staying,” I said, threading my fingers through Drew’s hair and slamming my lips over hers.

  She nipped at my lip, then pushed me away. Her gaze bounced between Nora and me. “I’ll stay and make sure Diane’s okay.”

  Bullshit.

  “No, you’re staying because of him. But whatever.” Nora turned and made her way toward the house. “Just come get your car from my house tomorrow. If this knight in perverted armor can manage to drop you off…” She disappeared onto the porch.

  “She’s not wrong,” I said, slinging my legs over the side of the trampoline and jumping to the ground. “You’re staying because of me.”

  I held out my hand to help Drew down.

  She took it with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not fucking you.”

  “You already said that.” I led her onto the back porch and into the kitchen.

  “Do I need to find Diane, open a door, and throw condoms at her head?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “If she’s with Hendrix, yes!”

  A couple of girls were asleep on the couch, someone laid passed out on the steps amongst a pile of beer cans. This was how parties usually ended here. But it was better that they were here than on the streets.

  We made it to the first landing before we heard the squeak of springs and thud of Hendrix’s headboard banging the wall. Moans trickled into the hall, followed by the smack of skin against skin.

  “Call me, Big Papa.”

  “Too late.” Drew groaned. “She’s getting chlamydia and pregnant.”

  Placing an arm around her shoulder, I dragged her down the hall. “Believe it or not, Hendrix is safe. He’s got a fishbowl of condoms on his nightstand. Germs freak him out.”

  “The guy who sent me a picture of his shit?”

  “Yep.”

  I opened the door to Zepp’s room and flipped the light switch. It felt weird coming in here. Not that he would give a shit. The first time I visited Zepp in prison, he told me I could move in if I wanted to. Keep Hendrix in check, get away from my old man, but I couldn’t leave mom and Arlo.

  It just made everything feel empty when I couldn’t ignore that he was gone.

  Drew stopped by the nightstand, glancing at the picture of Monroe and Zepp. “Is that Zepp?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He looks so much like Hendrix.”

  I glanced at the picture. “He’s not as insane as him.”

  “Who the hell is?”

  And that was a good question. Not wanting to go down that depressing-ass road, I pushed the thoughts of Zepp away. I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it at her. “Wanna sleep in that?”

  “Can you unzip me?” She gathered her hair to the side.

  “You know this is wrong?” I slowly inched the zipper down, exposing the skin of her back while making a point to breathe over her neck.

  “What is?” she whispered.

  I slid one shoulder off, then the other, and the material fell to a puddle around her high heels. My dick swelled. My balls drew tight. “Making me do this when I can’t fuck you.” I could. If I really wanted to. I had no doubt I could talk her into it, but I respected her more than that.

  “Well, I can’t undo my own zipper, can I?” She pressed her naked back to my chest, then turned to face me as she backed away. All curves in nothing but lace underwear and high heels.

  I slipped out of my jeans while I stared at her nipples, hard and inviting. It took every damn thing inside me not to grab her by the hips and throw her onto the bed.

  “Behave,” she said.

  I flopped down onto the mattress, thinking about how this girl was going to break my dick. “You’ve got your tits out, and you’re asking me to behave?”

  With a smirk, she pulled my shirt over her head, then took off her shoes before hitting the light switch. “Better?”

  “No. I liked it better with your tits out.”

  “Of course you did.” She crawled into bed beside me. “Don’t sulk.”

  An awkward silence stretched between us in the darkness. What in the hell was I supposed to do here? Tell her goodnight and roll the fuck over?

  I swiped a hand down my jaw, then turned on the pillow to look at her. “This is me not fucking you.”

  She laughed, and holy shit, she was gorgeous when she smiled like that. “You’re doing so good.”

  I wanted to kiss her. But kissing would make my dick even harder. Then I’d want to touch her. Then I’d need to fuck her.

  “Is this a first for you? Having a girl in bed and not screwing her…”

  “Having a girl in a bed is a first, baby girl.” Taking a girl to bed said things; it was too personal, and it gave them every opportunity to try to stay. You get one in the back of a car, a bathroom, a closet—they had no choice but to leave.

  “Is this where you confess you’re secretly saving yourself for marriage?”

  “Yeah—no.”

  “So, what do you do? Just screw them in a random van? Whose van was that?”

  “My neighbor’s, and anywhere but a bed.”

  “We’ve been on a bed before, so you’re full of shit.”

  “A Barrington prick’s bed doesn’t count.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  She went to kiss me, and I grabbed her throat. Because if she wanted to torture me, I was going to torture her. “If you really don’t want me to fuck you, you can’t kiss me in this bed.”

  A slow smile inched over her face. “Not even one kiss?”

  I pressed a quick one to her lips, then adjusted my dick. “Now go to sleep, or I’m fucking you.”

  On a laugh, she threw her leg over mine, then laid her palm on my chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I stared at the ceiling, realizing I was more than officially screwed.

  I was in bed.

  With a girl.

  And I was okay that I wasn’t going to fuck her because I liked her that damn much.

  29

  Drew

  The bang of pots and pans in the kitchen woke me way too early the next morning.

  A heavy arm lay across my waist. The rasp of Bellamy’s breath soothed me, and his firm grip on my body was reassuring and protective.

  Another loud bang came from downstairs, and Bellamy groaned, tightening his hold on me.

  “What is Hendrix doing?” I grumbled, wincing against the bright light spilling through the threadbare curtains.

  “Who knows.” He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, and a comforting warmth crawled through my veins. “It’s best not to ask, though.”

  I didn’t want to get out of this bed, but I was grounded and had no idea when my dad might pop up. Plus, Nora had my car. “Can you take me home? Nora took my car.”

  “Yeah. I gotta go get Arlo, anyway.” He threw back the covers, then shifted off the bed. My gaze trailed over his broad back and his ass when he leaned over to grab his jeans. “I guess I’ll need to take your friend home, too. Hendrix’s ass sure can’t.”

  I got dressed, then I did the full-on walk of shame through Hendrix’s decaying house. Only I hadn’t had a one-night stand.

  We’d slept in the same bed, and Bellamy hadn’t tried it on once. He’d even told me not to kiss him so he wouldn’t try, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

  We rounded the corner into the living room. Dishes clattered in the kitchen before something shattered.

  “What the hell are you doing, dipshit?” Bellamy shouted.

  I followed him into the kitchen, immediately covering my eyes when I saw Diane on her knees in front of Hendrix.

  “What the hell, man?” Bellamy turned, pressing my face into his chest and shielding me from the sight of Hendrix face-fucking my friend. “You’ve got a bedroom,” Bellamy said.

  “And you’ve got a house…”

  “Seriously?”

  “The kitchen’s way better,” Hendrix said on a cackle. “Can you leave so
she can finish?”

  Bellamy started pushing me toward the living room.

  “She’ll be done in five—no two minutes,” Hendrix called. “Damn. Where’d you learn that…”

  My stomach dropped when Bellamy pulled up outside my house, and a new Maserati sat in the drive. My dad was back early. And I was supposed to be grounded.

  I didn’t care about my dad’s punishments for the most part, and neither did he, so long as there was at least the perception that I was actually following them.

  I tossed my head back against the seat and groaned. “Fuck.”

  Bellamy leaned forward, staring at the driveway. “So, the asshole went with a black one this time?”

  “Apparently so. Think I can convince him I went for a morning run?” I asked, attempting to cover up that I was probably about to get put on house arrest.

  Bellamy’s gaze skimmed over me. “In that dress. Nah. Don’t think so, baby girl.” He rubbed his thumb over my lip, smearing what little lip stain was probably left. “Shame. You look fucked, even though you weren’t.”

  “Just to add fuel to the fire,” I mumbled as I reached for the door. “Pray for me.”

  He caught my chin between his fingers, slamming his mouth to mine before his teeth sank into my lips. “I don’t pray.”

  I placed a finger on the silver crucifix he always wore. “Could’ve fooled me.” Then I got out, flushed and breathless.

  I opened the door to my father sitting on the bottom steps of the stairwell. Lips flat. Dress sleeves rolled up, and hands folded over his slacks. He pushed up without a word and crooked a finger, telling me to follow him as he went into the kitchen.

  I was not scared of my father, but at that moment, I was.

  I’d been fired for dealing weed, suspended twice, crashed his car, and been grounded. And now, he caught me sneaking back in wearing my clothes from the night before on a Sunday morning. It didn’t really get much worse.

  He yanked a chair from the island. “Sit.” Then rounded the other side.