Always Will: A Bad Boy Romance

by Claire Kingsley

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Books By Claire Kingsley

  1: Selene

  2: Ronan

  3: Selene

  4: Ronan

  5: Selene

  6: Ronan

  7: Selene

  8: Ronan

  9: Selene

  10: Ronan

  11: Selene

  12: Selene

  13: Ronan

  14: Selene

  15: Selene

  16: Ronan

  17: Selene

  18: Selene

  19: Ronan

  20: Selene

  21: Ronan

  22: Selene

  23: Selene

  24: Ronan

  25: Ronan

  26: Selene

  27: Selene

  28: Ronan

  29: Ronan

  30: Selene

  Epilogue: Selene

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 Claire Kingsley

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations for the purpose of reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events or incidents are products of the authors imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Edited by Tammi Labrecque of Larks and Katydids

  Cover and title plate by Wicked Good Book Covers

  www.clairekingsleybooks.com

  Books By Claire Kingsley

  Bad Boy Romance

  Always Have (Braxton and Kylie)

  Always Will (Selene and Ronan)

  Always Real: A Short Story ~ Coming December 2016

  The Jetty Beach Romance Series

  Must Be Love (Nicole and Ryan)

  Must Be Crazy (Melissa and Jackson)

  Must Be Fate (Cody and Clover)

  Must Be Home (Hunter and Emma)

  The Back to Jetty Beach Romance Series

  Could Be Forever (Finn and Juliet) ~ Coming January 2017

  All the Jetty Beach Romances are full-length stand-alone novels, and can be read independently. They have interconnecting characters and are most fun if read in order.

  Sign up to be the first to hear about new releases, as well as exclusive content, cover reveals, and more.

  1: Selene

  Aidan, my date, is talking about his day. I wrap my hand around my wine glass and cross my legs, trying very hard to act interested.

  I should really be fair and call Aidan my boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other long enough that this isn’t just a date. We’ve been on a lot of dates, and although we haven’t talked about it I know he expects we’re exclusive.

  On paper, Aidan is perfect. He’s handsome, and tall—which, considering I’m five-eleven, is an absolute must. He’s smart, and has a stable career in finance. He’s a far cry from the bad boys I usually date.

  And that’s precisely why I’ve been seeing him.

  After two crappy relationships last year—one who was cheating on me when he went out of town on business with what my best friend Kylie called his trip whores, and one who tried to break up with me via text shortly after we got back from a trip to Mexico—I decided enough is enough. I always date the same kind of men: hot as hell, with a body to drool over and an attitude like they’re God’s gift to women. Why I find that sort of arrogance attractive, I don’t know, but clearly my radar is broken.

  So I took a break from men while I focused on helping with Kylie’s wedding. She married my twin brother, Braxton, a couple months ago. If you had told me a year ago that Braxton would be married to anyone, let alone our best friend, I would have thought you were crazy. I didn’t think he had it in him to commit to someone. The three of us have been close since we were kids, and I always felt like I needed to protect Kylie from Brax. My brother is a great guy, but he was such a man-whore. The last thing I wanted was for Kylie to get hurt.

  Little did I know that Braxton was crazy in love with her. I was almost responsible for ruining things for them, and I still feel horrible about it. In my defense, Brax lied to me about them being together, so what was I supposed to think? I always knew he had a thing for Kylie, but I figured he just wanted to bang her.

  I’m really, really glad I was wrong. Watching them get married was probably the best moment of my entire life. There’s so much comfort in knowing they have each other.

  After the wedding, I made Kylie a deal: she has to approve of all my dates. I have no idea what criteria she’s using, and the fact that the love of her life is my brother makes me question her judgment a little. But I needed someone else to weigh in. Clearly I’m not having any luck on my own.

  She heartily approved of Aidan. I met him at my gym, which indicates he cares about his health. It took a while before he talked to me, even though we saw each other almost every day, which Kylie counted as a point in his favor. He asked me to go out for coffee, and I agreed so I could find out more about him. After that, I turned him over to Ky. She stalked him on social media and didn’t find anything alarming. His Facebook feed didn’t feature a bunch of women, or selfies showing off his abs. He seemed … normal. Just an attractive man, living and working, and possibly looking for love.

  What’s not to like?

  Aidan laughs, and I take another sip of my wine to hide the fact that I missed what was so funny. He’s wearing a pale blue button-down shirt, the top button undone. I love that look on a man. Usually it would make me want to slowly unbutton the shirt, revealing the muscular body underneath. I’m pretty sure Aidan has a nice set of abs. The guy works out enough, and he’s tall and lean, so he should. But looking at him, I’m not particularly tempted. We’ve been seeing each other for over a month, and we haven’t slept together—which Kylie keeps assuring me is a good thing—but the problem is, I’m not sure if I want to.

  “I’m sorry, Selene,” he says. “I’ve been going on and on about me. What about you? How was your day?”

  I know he actually cares about my day, and really, it’s quite sweet. I need to cling to that when I start feeling bored.

  “Stressful, to be honest,” I say. “It’s been a long week. Brad, the owner of my company, has been in all these closed door conference calls, and he went out of town last week and no one knows why. I work closely with him, and he isn’t telling me anything, which makes me nervous.”

  He reaches across the table and touches my hand. “Uncertainty at work is the worst. I’m sorry you’re going through that.”

  I smile at him. He really is nice. So why am I tempted to excuse myself to the restroom and come back, pretending I got an important call and have to leave?

  Our waitress appears. “Can I interest either of you in dessert?”

  Aidan raises his eyebrows at me. “Anything for you? Dessert or maybe coffee?”

  “No thanks, I’m fine.”

  He looks at the waitress. “No, we’re finished.”

  “No problem.” She hands him the bill.

  He pulls out a credit card and hands it over. He always at least tries to pay, but he doesn’t get macho about it when I insist on picking up the bill. He’s so damn agreeable. And there’s never any expectation from him that I’ll go back to his place. Come to think of it, he’s never asked. We have dinner once or twice a week, and he always takes me home, walking me to my front door like a perfect gentleman. Maybe he’s waiting for me to suggest we take things to the next level.

  At first, I thought it was a good sign. He wasn’t just trying to get laid.
See? Nice guy. But at this point, I’m starting to feel like maybe I could use a man who put in a little more effort into getting me undressed. This slow and sweet thing was refreshing at first, but I wonder if he’ll ever turn up the heat.

  Can Aidan turn up the heat?

  The waitress returns, and he signs the receipt. “Ready?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  He walks me out to his car and takes me home. Like always, he kisses me at my front door. The kiss is … nice. Just like everything about Aidan. It’s sweet, without any pressure to do more. He steps away while I open my front door, like he’s fine with not coming inside, and says goodbye.

  I sigh as I close the door behind me.

  Kylie is on my couch, watching TV. She shuts it off when I come in.

  “Hey, Ky.”

  “Hi, babe,” she says. “How was your date?”

  “It was fine,” I say, without much enthusiasm. “Where’s Brax?”

  “Upstairs, asleep.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please tell me you weren’t having sex in my kitchen again. I had to bleach my eyeballs after I walked in on you guys last week.”

  She laughs. “That was not our fault. You never come home for lunch. Besides, you’re the one who asked Brax to come over and unclog your sink again.”

  “I didn’t think plumbing was such an aphrodisiac.”

  “Um, do you know your brother? He can make a sex game out of anything,” she says. “But no, we weren’t. He has a sinus infection, and he refuses to take a day off to get better. I forced him to lie down, and he fell asleep after about ten seconds. Then I got bored, so I came down here.”

  “He’s such a guy.”

  “He really is,” she says. “I hope it’s okay we’re here tonight. I guess I should have texted you first, in case Aidan was coming in. But I kind of figured he wasn’t, so I thought you and I could hang out.”

  “You figured right.” I slip off my heels and sit on the couch next to Kylie. “And it’s always fine. You know that.”

  “So … things still the same with him?”

  “Pretty much,” I say. “He’s really very nice. He’s polite. We have a nice time.”

  “But nice isn’t doing it for you.”

  I put my feet up on the coffee table and sigh. “I guess I keep waiting for him to … I don’t know. Make another move. We’re in this holding pattern, and I don’t know why. He walks me up to my door every time he takes me out, and not once has he suggested he’d like to come in. Nor has he asked if I’d like to come to his place. Yet we keep seeing each other. If he wasn’t into me, he’d break it off, right?”

  “You’d think,” she says. “You’re just not used to dating a nice guy. He’s taking his time. He wants to develop a good foundation first. I bet after a few more dates, he’ll show you a whole new side of himself. He’ll unleash the beast and fuck your brains out, and it will be totally worth the wait. You’ll have it all: a nice guy who treats you well, respects you enough to get to know you first, and can make your toes curl.”

  “I don’t think that man exists.”

  “Maybe it’s Aidan,” she says.

  “I know. You’re right. And it’s not like I don’t enjoy being with him. I do.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what your hang-up is,” she says. “Everything you’ve told me about him is good. Your only complaint is that he’s not trying to get you into bed. You realize that, right?”

  I laugh and smack Kylie’s arm. “It’s not that. I mean, yeah, it’s been a while and I’m getting a little antsy. But I’m just not sure if there are any sparks. I’d like to feel something. As it is, I’m kind of indifferent.” I lean down and put my head on her shoulder. “Is it too late to take up your offer to be lesbians?”

  She holds up her left hand, where her wedding ring sparkles. “Afraid so. You had your chance.”

  “Shit,” I say. “Figures.”

  Braxton comes down the stairs, looking bleary-eyed, his dark hair a mess.

  “Baby,” Kylie says as he comes around the couch. “What are you doing up?”

  He lies down and puts his head in her lap. “You were gone.”

  She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re sick. You should be in bed.”

  “I like being where you are.” He drapes an arm over her legs and closes his eyes.

  I bite my lip and look away to hide the tears that spring to my eyes. They’re so cute it’s ridiculous, and there’s nothing better than seeing my brother so happy. It makes me love Kylie even more.

  “Well, it’s not even ten, and it looks like this is our Friday night,” Ky says, glancing down at Brax, already asleep in her lap. “Want to watch a movie?”

  “With wine?”

  “Obviously.”

  “You guys sleeping here tonight?” I ask. Kylie and Braxton have their own place, and I still live in the house where Braxton and I grew up. Our parents died in a car accident when we were ten, and we stayed here with our aunt. After she died, we inherited the house, but Braxton insisted I be the one to keep it. He bought a condo that’s walking distance from here, and I live in this big old place by myself. The three of us all lived here when we were in college, so Brax and Ky still have their own rooms, and crash here pretty regularly. Of course, Kylie sleeps with Braxton now, instead of her old room downstairs. But it still works. I like it when they’re here. I get lonely living here all alone.

  “Most likely,” she says. “You mind?”

  “Never.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  I get up from the couch. “I’ll change into comfies and get us wine so you don’t have to move him.”

  “Thanks,” she says with a laugh, and leans down to kiss Braxton’s forehead.

  I head upstairs to my room. I don’t use the master bedroom. To be honest, I haven’t been in that room in years. It must be horribly dusty. But the house is big, with six bedrooms and four bathrooms, so there’s more than enough space. I’ve updated and remodeled a lot of it, but my parents’ old room is the one area I won’t touch.

  I change from my work clothes into yoga pants and a tank top, and grab a fluffy blanket from the foot of my bed. My pants don’t quite make it to my ankles, so I guess I’ll say they’re capris and pretend it’s not because I’m so fucking tall. Kylie always says she’s jealous of my legs, but she has no idea how hard it is to find clothes.

  I head downstairs and pour two glasses of wine. I snuggle up next to Ky and we find something to watch. Drinking a bottle of wine and watching a movie with my best friend is certainly not the worst way to spend a Friday night. But I can’t help but wonder if I’m wasting my time with Aidan. If maybe there’s someone else out there.

  Someone with a little heat.

  2: Ronan

  The plane takes off, and my adrenaline starts pumping. I went through my preflight safety check on the ground. My gear is perfect. I glance over at the jump coordinator and he gives me a nod.

  The noise of the engine roars in my ears and I watch the ground fall away as we ascend. The sky over Lake Elsinore is completely clear. It’s the perfect day for a jump. Two other guys are suited up next to me. I don’t know them, but the calm looks on their faces tells me everything I need to know: They’re pros. We’ll have a solid jump today.

  My blood pumps harder, and the weight that always sits on my shoulders lightens as we gain altitude. My head clears. I know the rush is coming, and my whole body lights up with anticipation. I start to feel alive again.

  My brother Damon calls me an adrenaline junkie, and makes sure to relay our parents’ distaste for my hobbies whenever we talk. I suppose I can’t blame them for their concern. My folks are decent people, but they’ve never understood me—especially not the man I’ve become.

  I’m a risk taker. I always have been. I was the kid who thought that if I tried hard enough, I could fly like Superman. And I definitely tried. I had fear in those days, but I fed off it. Fear drove me to go bigger, higher, faster.
The crashes were learning experiences. I still felt afraid, but I pushed through it and did crazy shit anyway.

  I lost the fear later.

  Now the only times I really feel alive are moments like this.

  Wind rushes past the plane; the engine roars. The pilot takes us to eighteen-thousand feet, high above the world. My heart races. Everything stands out—my vision is sharp, my thoughts completely focused. My lungs expand, taking in oxygen, clear and clean. Every muscle is coiled and ready.

  It’s like the moment before orgasm. The tension mounts, pressure and heat building. You know it’s coming—the explosion that’s going to rock through your whole body and take you down.

  I live for that shit.

  The jump coordinator opens the door, and the change in pressure sucks the air from my lungs. The pilot holds, cruising in a steady line along the flight path. The first guy gets in position. He’s given the all-clear and he lets go, disappearing from my sight. The second guy has his turn. He moves out to the jump position, waits for the signal, and he’s gone.

  I move to the open door and ease myself outside the plane. The air rushing by tries to rip me out and hurl me to the ground. That’s when the euphoria starts to creep in, seeping its way into my head. My mouth turns up in a smile. I’m on the verge, in that place before the climax. Soaring above the world, death chasing me, nipping at my heels.

  I get the nod and let go.

  I fall away from the plane so fast the noise of the engine is instantly gone, replaced by the deafening blast of the wind. I spread my arms and legs wide, loosening the flaps of my wingsuit, and catch the air. It lifts me up, jerking me higher, and I tip to the side before I correct and get my balance.

  I’m fucking flying.

  I holler into the air, my voice fleeing behind me. The wingsuit keeps me gliding, more than falling, as I cut through the air. The world is so far away it’s meaningless. I’m in the sky, riding the motherfucking wind. Elation barrels into me, crashing through my mind, leaving nothing in its wake. I’m as clear as the sparkling water of the lake below me, higher than any drug has ever gotten me.

  The ground gets closer and I lean to the left, staying on target with the landing zone. I’ve done this jump dozens of times—enough that I’m starting to crave more. I want to go higher. Faster.