Cruel Devil: A Small Town Brother's Best Friend, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 3)

by Daniela Romero

  I smack her hand away. “I’m fine,” I tell her with an exasperated breath. “I just don’t do players. He’s nice, but he’s on the football team and he’s a Greek. Pass.”

  “You do realize you’re a Greek right?”

  I shrug. “So, I’m a hypocrite. Sue me. Are you really going to stand here and continue trying to convince me to go for him, or are you going to take your fine ass over there before one of our sisters shoots their shot?”

  “Oh, my God, you’re right.” Quinn fluffs her hair and adjusts her boobs. Yes, she actually shifted her girls around before glancing at me with an expectant look. “How do I look?”

  “Hot! Go get him.”

  She gives an excited squeal before taking a deep breath and marching toward him. Deacon drifted back to his friend group a little while ago, giving me a much-needed respite after everything he and Reed had unloaded. A part of me wants to help. I feel a little responsible for what he’s going through, but a bigger part of me really doesn’t want to get involved. I don’t want an excuse to seek Dominique out. If I do … I don’t know. But it isn’t going to be good. I’m angry and a little hurt, though mostly angry. This is the second time something like this has happened between us and both times he ghosts me.

  What the hell is his problem? I’m not asking for a relationship or even a repeat event. All I’m asking for is some human decency. It’s really not too much to ask.

  But, whatever. This is Dominique I’m talking about here. I turn and grab a water bottle from one of the coolers and head for the pool. There’s a pink sprinkle, donut-shaped floaty with my name on it.

  One of the Alpha Ze guys helps me maneuver my way onto it without jumping into the pool because not gonna lie, that water is cold.

  I’m laying back, enjoying the music and chatter around me when something in the air shifts. I don’t know how else to describe it. Sunglasses firmly in place, I turn my head to the side just in time to see my brother and—would you look at that—Dominique, arrive.

  For a second, a flash of panic hits me square in the chest and I look down at myself. Fuck. I’m dead. So dead. When Dominique sees what I’m—hold on. I cut that thought off and scoff. What am I even thinking? Fuck what Dominique thinks. Quinn was right. I look hot. No way in hell am I going to let that asshole shame me for wearing this suit. I’m going to own it.

  I track their progress through the yard, grateful no one can see my eyes because I’m totally staring. Aaron, being the friendly guy he is, dives right in on the fun and joins a few of the guys at one of the backyard games the girls must have set up. The one where you toss hacky sacks at an angled board and try to get it through the hole.

  “Hey, what's that game called?” I ask one of the guys swimming next to me. I’m not sure what his name is. He hooks his arms over the side of my floaty and looks to where I’m pointing. “Corn hole,” he tells me, and then instead of swimming away, which was what I’d been hoping for, his eyes do a slow and obvious perusal of my body. “I’m Ignacio, but everyone calls me Iggy.”

  “Hey. I’m—“

  “Kasey!” A familiar voice barks out my name. Well, that took longer than expected. Not.

  I turn my head to find Dominique, arms folded over his chest and dark eyes ablaze. He’s not wearing sunglasses like virtually everyone else here, so I can spot his glare from the edge of the pool and offer him a little wave. His nostrils flare.

  Dressed in black jogger pants that taper at the ankle and a white crew t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and impressive chest, I have to fight the urge not to lick my lips. Has he always looked this good? Who am I kidding? Yes.

  He’s wearing his usual red Beast Mode sneakers, but he’s changed his hair. For as long as I’ve known him, Dominique’s kept it braided back over his scalp. Sometimes they’re thick braids. Other times they’re thin. But for the first time, there are no braids. Sometime this week he got his hair cut and damn, it looks good on him.

  A line up and fade make his features appear sharper, and he’s added a razor part design. Two parallel lines that start at his temple and slant up enough to form a peak before curving down and back. Almost like a lightning bolt.

  “I didn’t think this was really your scene.” I keep my tone casual, my expression carefree. I know people are watching, the girls already trying to figure out how we know one another. This is exactly why I didn’t want him and the other guys here when I moved in. They draw too much attention.

  “Get out of the pool.” His voice is hard.

  “Pass. I’m enjoying it here.”

  I swear steam comes out of his ears.

  “Kasey—” There's a warning there. One I should probably listen to, but where is the fun in that?

  “Dominique,” I retort.

  His jaw is tight, a vein bulging in his neck. This is too good. Apha Ze guy—what was his name again? Oh, right, Iggy—is still clinging to my floaty, but his eyes keep bouncing back and forth from me to Dom and then back again.

  “Hey,” I draw his attention.

  He turns, expression a little nervous. Well, shit. That won’t work. I turn my smile up a notch and shift to my side which gives him a better view of my breasts. “Sorry. He’s so rude. I’m Kasey.” I pick up where we left off, suddenly interested in chatting with the guy.

  He swallows hard, eyes locked on my chest.

  “So, what year are you?” I ask, and right as I’m about to trail a finger over his arm Dominique snaps, “Rojas. Off limits. Get your ass away from her.”

  Iggy jumps back as if he’s been electrocuted and makes quick work of following Dom’s orders. “Yeah, man. Of course. I was just, uh, making conversation. You know?”

  Dominique doesn’t answer him. He gives Iggy a flat stare before dismissing him with a look and turning his attention back to me. “I won’t ask again, Kasey.”

  I flip him off. There are a few muffled laughs from the yard, and I spot Deacon and Reed barely keeping themselves in check. Dominique sees them too. Oh, shit. He stalks in their direction. Shit. Shit.

  Deacon sees him coming and squares his shoulders, nostrils flaring. Double shit. He’s not going to back down. “Dom!” I paddle my arms to reach the pool's edge but wind up spinning myself in circles. Navigation on a giant donut is not as easy as it might seem, but one of the guys is nice enough to give me a push to the shallow end and then I’m off. I jump in the thigh deep water. Gah! Cold. And hop up the steps.

  Dominique is in Deacon’s face. No clue what he's saying, but it doesn't look like they’re discussing the weather. Everyone is watching. Waiting for fists to fly, but yeah, no. Not happening.

  I shove myself between the guys and push Dominique in the chest as hard as I can. He moves back a few steps, but only because he was willing to.

  “Happy now? I’m out.” He’s glaring over my shoulder, still not looking at me. I turn and clear my throat to get Deacon’s attenion. His eyes shift and he looks down, and then all of a sudden I’m shoved back behind Dominique and he’s all growly, saying, “Don’t fucking look at her.”

  Then he’s tearing his shirt off his head and shoving it down over mine. When my head pops out he helps me get my arms through the sleeves, and then he’s back to shoving me behind him again. Whoa. He’s seriously losing it right now. I’ve never seen him like this.

  “I thought I made myself clear,” he says, voice dipped low and threatening.

  “What is your problem, man? She’s not your girl. Back the fuck off.”

  Okay, so true, I am most definitely not his girl, but still, even I know that was the wrong thing to say. Idiot. It’s like he wants to get his ass kicked again. The muscles of Dominique’s back tighten, and wow, is it a good-looking back. Why have I never seen his bare back like this before?

  More heated words are exchanged, but I’m not really paying attention, too intent on tracing the lines between his shoulders and down his back with my gaze. That accomplished, I reach out and begin physically tracing the lines with my finge
r.

  He stiffens. I don’t let that deter me. I follow the path, applying light pressure, and some of the tension falls away. His muscles flex and Dominique takes a deep breath, no longer talking.

  When I reach the dip at the base of his spine I lean forward, resting my head against him. A tremor rolls through him. I can feel the twist of his muscles. He peers over his shoulder, but I’m not looking at him so I don’t know what he’s thinking. I should move away. Stop touching him. Why am I touching him?

  That thought gets me out of my head and I jerk back, but he’s there. He turns, grabs my still raised hand, and pulls me to him. Not in an embrace or anything like that. Dominique doesn’t do public affection. Not that he’s ever been affectionate with me. No. We fight. I guess we also sometimes angry kiss and dry hump, but whether that was a one off or will be a repeat event is yet to be decided.

  So no, no embrace. But I’m right beside him. The heat from his bare skin seeping into me.

  “What are you doing?” he asks. I meet his dark-brown stare. He doesn’t look mad, at least not right at this moment. He looks … confused.

  “Are you done?”

  His brows pull together. “Am I done with what?”

  “Being an asshole.”

  I open my mouth to add that he needs to stop laying into Deacon over nothing, but catch myself. He’s calming down. I’d be stupid to say something I know will just piss him off again.

  “You wanted me out of the pool. I’m out. Okay? Can we just … I don’t know, go inside? Cool down for a bit?”

  He works his jaw, but nods. Relief sweeps through me. Good. “Come on, then.” I’m waiting to see if he’s going to follow before heading for the door when I catch sight of my brother right as he’s turning.

  He sees me. Smiles. Waves. When he sees what I’m wearing, a wrinkle forms between his brows.

  “What are you—” He eyes the shirt I’m wearing and then spots a shirtless Dominique behind me. “Why are you wearing his shirt?” There’s genuine confusion in his voice and my heart starts to race because shit, um … I go with the first thing that pops in my head.

  “Because Dominique is an asshole.” Yep. True and relevant. Score one for me.

  “Huh?” Why does he sound confused? It's not like this is a new revelation.

  I decide to elaborate. “He’s a dick and made me put this on because my swimsuit is indecent.” I make air quotes and glare at Dominique for exaggerated effect. “Did you tell him to cock block me?” I add, turning my glare on my brother. “Because that shit is not cool, Aaron. I know you guys are roommates and all, but I don’t need babysitters at my own house.”

  His eyes widen and he gets this look on his face that screams abort. Abort.

  I love my brother, but he’s never really been one for confrontation. Not with me, at least. I happen to have a bit of a mean streak and a solid record for always getting revenge. What I just said basically implies I’ll cock block him the rest of the year if he tries to cock block me. I should feel bad. The panic written all over his face is just too good.

  “I wouldn’t do that. I—” he sputters, and I fold my arm over my chest, lifting a single brow.

  “Bullshit. You absolutely would.”

  He huffs and then seems to rally himself, which surprises me.

  “Was it?”

  “Was it what?”

  “Indecent. Was the swimsuit indecent?” No. Maybe. Okay, yeah, I mean, have you seen it? It was a lot. But I wasn’t going to admit that to my brother.

  “It’s a swimsuit.” I argue. “Top. Bottom. The usual.”

  “Kasey—” He’s glaring. At me. What the hell?

  “What is going on right now. This is not how this,” I wave at the space between us, “works. Dominique is an asshole. I yell at you and you apologize for him being an asshole. That's how this works.”

  He just stares for a beat and says, “Fine, let’s see it. If he’s wrong, I’ll apologize for him being an asshole.”

  My eyes widen. “What? No!”

  He gives me an are-you-serious expression. “It’s a swimsuit. I’ve seen you in a swimsuit.”

  Dominique is shaking beside me fighting not to laugh. I push him. “This is your fault.”

  He smirks. “Show him the suit, Baby Henderson.”

  I grind my teeth together. Fine. I’m not embarrassed. I fucking rocked this swimsuit. With my eyes on his, I tug the t-shirt off. Dominique’s eyes stay trained on my face, but I don’t miss the hitch in his breath.

  There’s a gasp. “Jesus Christ.” That was from Aaron. “Don’t look at my little sister like that, you fucking perv.” That catches both our attention, but when I look, Aaron isn’t talking to Dominique, he’s glowering at the guys he’s been playing corn hole with. “She’s only se—“

  “Hey!”

  He turns.

  “Don’t you dare,” I warn. If he tells everyone I’m seventeen I will murder him. He must see that in my eyes, because he manages to keep his mouth shut and gives Dominique some weird look. Silent communication passes between them, and then the shirt is being shoved back over my head, only this time when my head pops out it’s to see Aaron heading for the door.

  I follow him, Dominique right behind me, and as soon as we’re all safely inside Aaron whirls on me. “What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know what goes through those guys' heads when they look at you? Shit.”

  I wait. I’m not really sure what is happening right now. Aaron has always been protective, but he’s also always let me do my thing. This is different. Almost like he’s spiraling. I don’t think all this anger is really about me. At least I hope it isn’t.

  “It’s a swimsuit. I’m at a party in my own house I might add. I don’t care how guys look at me or what goes on in their head. As long as they don’t touch me without permission, I’m good. You’re overreacting—”

  “Overreacting? Overreacting! Jesus Christ.” He spears his fingers through his shaggy blond hair.

  “You said that already.”

  “Well, it warranted a repeat.”

  I smile a little at that. He takes a few deep breaths and then turns to Dominique and gives him a fist bump. “Thanks, man. I appreciate you looking out.”

  Dominique grunts and meets my stare. There’s a warning, as if he’s saying don’t you dare say a thing about what happened in the classroom.

  I glare back, my eyes conveying my own response. I’m not an idiot, asshole.

  “I’m gonna go down to the park. I need to get the image of my baby sister in that,” he nods in my direction, “out of my head. I can drop—”

  “I’m good. Go ahead. Kasey can give me a lift.”

  I scowl, but Aaron’s not paying attention. “Cool man. I’ll see you later back at the house.”

  He heads for the door, but at the last second Dominique stops him. “Yo!”

  He waits until Aaron turns to face him. “If something comes up, you call. You hear me?”

  More silent communication passes between them, and damn, is that sort of creepy. I know Aaron and Dominique are friends. Best friends now. But it’s like they have their own language, and there is seriously something going on with my brother that definitely has nothing to do with my swimsuit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  And then there were two. Aaron leaves to go boarding, leaving me and a very shirtless Dominique behind. Right. Clothes. He needed clothes. Which meant I needed clothes. Gah.

  I head for my bedroom, conscious of Dominique’s silent steps behind me. Once inside, I head for my dresser and pull out a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. I look down at the shirt. I don’t want to give it back. It’s soft and comfy and it smells like him. Like cinnamon and sandalwood and yum. Oh my god. I can not believe I thought that. Not keeping the shirt. I am not that girl and no, I am not hung up on him. Just no. He’s an asshole. An inconsiderate, domineering jerkface.

  I pull it over my head and hold it out to Dominique, who’s just standing there. Staring.
It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good look at his front and yeah, it's just as good as the back. Better actually, which is completely unfair.

  His chest is wide, sculpted. He has abs that should be illegal. And those lines ... you know the ones.

  I want to trail my fingers over those lines, lick his hip bone, stroke his abs. Wait. No. Fuck. I do not want to do any of those things. Come on, Kasey, get it together.

  Alright then. I am not keeping the shirt and he really needs to put it on and leave. I cannot be around him right now. I think the sun addled my brain or something.

  “Take it,” I say, and give the shirt in question a little shake.

  He’s not looking at the shirt though. He’s looking at me. And the look in his eyes isn’t an innocent one. It’s the same look he gave me in the classroom. Heated. Hungry. Fuck. I drop the shirt.

  “Christ.” He runs a hand over his head. “That thing is fucking indecent.”

  I look down at myself and yeah, he’s not wrong, but neither was Quinn. I’m glad she offered me the swimsuit. Once I got over the shock of the thing, I decided I liked it. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

  I’ve never had a hard time getting a guy's attention, present company not included, but I’m attractive in a cute sort of way. Not beautiful. Not hot or sexy. Just, cute. I have round cheeks, curly blond hair, bright blue eyes and one of those faces that people look at and think to themselves, she’s cute.

  This swimsuit takes me from cute to sexy and I’m not going to lie, I like it. I like feeling sexy, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like the way Dominique is looking at me while I’m in it. Which, yes, I know that’s bad. It’s the sun. Totally blaming the sun for my crazy stupid thoughts right now because I shouldn’t like the way he’s looking at me. In fact, I should be snapping at him for it. But I’m not. I need to steer us back onto safe ground.

  “Thanks for the unsolicited opinion,” I tell him.