Craving BAD: An Anthology of Bad Boys and Wicked Girls

by A. J. Norris

  Cressida’s Roommate

  Cressida rushed home from work the next day, her mind a frantic buzz. She couldn’t forget the expression on Hawke’s face. It wasn’t fear she saw in his eyes yesterday as he told her to leave. It was something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Either way, she still had no clue why he rushed her off, or who those men were in the parking lot watching them.

  It made her nervous.

  She stopped by the practice facility that morning only to find it completely vacant. Training camp didn’t officially start for another week, so it wasn’t surprising. She still didn’t have any answers. She tried to tell herself that she had more important things to worry about right now. She had to find a roommate or she would have to resort to attending Scooter’s birthday party for an excuse not to starve to death until her next payday.

  Cressida eagerly found her mailbox, crossing her fingers that it would be filled with shiny applications. She unlocked the metal box, peeking inside only to find one single envelope. The outside was completely blank, but when she ripped it open, she found an application.

  She squealed. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  She quickly glanced at the information. Their first name was Sascha, no last name listed, or current address, but they did leave a phone number. Cressida continued to read as she made her way up to the apartment. Sascha claimed to be super neat, which was a plus, and a good cook, but was away on business a lot. It was absolutely perfect.

  She quickly jerked out her phone as she balanced her bag and unlocked her apartment door. She dialed the number on the application and it went straight to voicemail.

  “Hi, Sascha. This is Cressida Wales. You filled out a roommate application for my apartment. I looked it over and everything seems great. If you want to stop by this afternoon, we could do a walk-through and discuss details. Just give me a call back at this number if you have any questions. I look forward to meeting you.”

  She sighed as she hung up the phone. If this worked out, it would be a giant weight off her shoulders. She changed out of her work clothes then went to the kitchen to start dinner. Her cupboard was barren. Resigning to a peanut butter sandwich, she settled onto the couch with her laptop.

  She smiled when she realized her neighbor’s Wi-Fi wasn’t locked. Borrowing it until her next payday wouldn’t hurt. She needed to find out more about Hawke Nikolaev. She Googled him and spent the next hour reading every article ever written about him, which wasn’t many. He apparently was really good about avoiding the press.

  Someone knocked on her door. Cressida jumped, halfway closing her computer screen. It was probably her new roommate. She moved her computer over and got up to answer the door. She would have been frightened if she hadn’t recognized the stone mask expression on Hawke Nikolaev’s face. Her hand touched her heart anyway. The missed beat at the sight of him became apparent. Hawke wasn’t a sweaty mess anymore. Everything about him was tailored and precise, accentuating the long, lean lines of his body.

  And those brown eyes. They fixated on her.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Cressida cleared her throat. “Well, yes actually. I’m expecting someone.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “I’m doing interviews for a new roommate.”

  His smile was slow. “I thought on the application it said this was only a two-bedroom. This isn’t going to work if I have to bunk with some stranger…unless it means I get to bunk with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He stepped inside. “You left me a message too.”

  “What? No, I didn’t. You didn’t fill out an application and even if you did, I would have turned it down.”

  Hawke casually pulled his phone out of his back pocket and pressed a button. The message she’d left the Sascha girl played out loud.

  She panicked. “No. There’s been a mistake.”

  His tongue played at the edge of his lips. Hawke was enjoying himself. “I told you I didn’t like my real name. I only use it for official things…like housing applications.”

  “You tricked me.” Why hadn’t anything about his name been in the news articles she read? Had he seriously intimidated the other reporters that much?

  “I merely filled out the application. You called me.”

  She frowned at him. “You didn’t put your last name on it. It’s invalid.”

  Hawke rolled his eyes and started walking around the apartment. “You need a roommate, Cressida Wales, and from the look of this place, you need one with a steady income.”

  “You can’t live here.”

  He sat down on the couch, bouncing on it, testing its resistance. “You were right before. The hotel life is getting old.”

  Cressida practically stomped her foot. “No, Hawke.”

  He put his elbows on his knees, glancing up at her underneath those giant eyelashes. “Can you afford to say that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He grinned. “At least hear me out.”

  “If you want to explain something to me, why don’t you tell me who those men were in the parking lot? Why did you make me leave?”

  Hawke stood and went to her. He placed his hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers playing with the end of her hair. His voice was soft. “Don’t worry about those men.”

  “Why do I suddenly feel like I should?”

  “I’ll take care of it. I just need you to let me.”

  He pulled back, his expression switching back to his flirty, pain-in-the-ass potential roommate routine. “So, can I assume that the misunderstanding means I get the extra bedroom and we won’t actually be bunking together?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer before going to the kitchen. Cressida stood there, still stunned by his touch. Her fingers touched the skin of her neck.

  This was a horrible idea. Why the hell was she actually considering it?

  Without giving herself an answer, because his ass in those jeans wasn’t an acceptable reason, she followed him. He walked around the bar, running his hand over it as if examining every glossy inch of the marble. Cressida noticed his arm, a row of black tattoos leading down his shoulder past his elbow like tally marks. “What kind of tattoo is that?”

  Hawke glanced up and then followed her gaze to his fancy artwork. “It’s my record.”

  “For shutouts?”

  His expression evened out. “Something like that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Cressida matched his frown, because she did want to know. She wanted to know everything. Who was that man in the parking lot? What other kind of record would he have tattooed on his body? What in the world would possess him to want to be her roommate?

  “I don’t get you.”

  He eyed her coyly. “I’m complicated—I’ll give you that. But I would be a good roommate. I didn’t lie on the application. I’m tidy, quiet, and I can cook.”

  His arms pressed into the counter, the muscles flexing as he looked up at her underneath lashes that were too gorgeous to belong on any man.

  She wavered. Her sanity. Her willpower. Her rebellious libido. “This is such a horrible idea.”

  “So, you’re saying yes?”

  That smile could crumble empires. Her kingdom was doomed if she let this continue. She had to come up with some kind of reasonable excuse. Rooming with a guy was a bad idea in general…but Hawke Nikolaev. “Look—I can’t have a roommate who is going to be parading women in and out all the time.”

  Hawke waved away her concern with a flick of his wrist. “Won’t be a problem.”

  Cressida eyed him skeptically. If fact, her stare called him an outright liar. A guy who looked like him wouldn’t bring women home on a regular basis?

  Phst. She wanted to bring him home on a regular basis and she didn’t even like him.

  “I’m serious,” he said, standing up away from the counter. “And that rule works both ways. No
random guys running around. I don’t want any awkward morning conversations with your fan club.”

  She scoffed. “My fan club?”

  He moved closer, his words quick and velvety. “And…you have to be prepared that if one of them doesn’t treat you right, he will receive a complimentary lesson on it.”

  Cressida rolled her eyes. Hawke smiled, flexing his knuckles that Cressida suddenly noticed were scared and swollen. “Even an asshole can be a gentleman.”

  She pursed her lips. “This coming from the guy who called me a puck bunny two days ago.”

  “I was having a bad day.”

  “Is that what you consider an apology?”

  A low rumble reverberated in his chest. “Let me stay here and I’ll make it up to you.”

  The way he looked at her, soaking in the sight of her, it made her feel like he had more on his mind that making her breakfast in bed every morning.

  Say no. Just say no.

  She nodded before she could stop herself. “Okay. You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Six

  Cressida’s Weakness

  “What do you mean he’s moving in with you?”

  Cressida quickly switched her phone off of speaker, because she didn’t want to risk Hawke hearing what she could only assume would be a very loud lecture from Magnolia.

  “He was the only applicant and I need a roommate. You know I can’t afford this place on my own.”

  “Have you heard what people are saying about him?”

  Yes. The Manhattan rumor mill was in full swing about Hawke Nikolaev. All those things Sam told her were apparently true. Hawke punched a reporter in Montreal and was involved in a bar brawl in Los Angeles.

  It didn’t mean he was dangerous to her.

  The men in the car flashed in her head again. There was more to Hawke’s story than simply writing him off as a violent misfit. She’d seen something else in him…something deeper. “Look, Maggie. I’ve got to get to work. I promise you can lecture me all you want tomorrow at lunch.”

  Magnolia sighed deeply on the other end. “Fine. But you better be glad I can barely walk or I would come over there and knock some sense into you.”

  “Consider it a rain check.” Cressida told her friend goodbye and rushed through her morning routine. Cressida brushed her teeth, taking extra care to make sure her morning breath was gone. Why? She had no clue. She didn’t care what Hawke thought of her breath, her sparkly pajamas, or horrendous case of bedhead.

  Except that she did care. A little bit at least.

  She didn’t want him laughing about her morning appearance to the guys on the team. Not that he spoke to the other guys, but he could instantly drop his badass persona and turn on her. So, instead of going straight to her coffee fix, she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and threw on her silky black robe. And maybe a little lip gloss. When she assured herself that her breath was minty fresh, she strutted into the living room, prepared to make Hawke believe that she absolutely woke up looking that amazing.

  Cressida pushed her shoulders back, ready to enjoy Hawke’s gawking when she stumbled over her feet. She also swallowed her tongue. Or it might have fallen on the floor. Either way, it definitely wasn’t in her mouth anymore.

  Thin white fabric filled her vision. In fact, it took it hostage. Perfectly toned muscles peeked from beneath a shirt that crept slowly up Hawke’s back. It wasn’t the shirt that had her scrambling for sanity, though.

  Briefs.

  The asshole stretched in the middle of the living room floor in nothing but briefs. Hawke leaned further over, his nose practically touching the floor. His ass in those briefs…

  Shit.

  “W-w-what are you doing?”

  She sounded like a prepubescent teenager. She cleared her throat, hoping the squeak in her panicked voice would go away. She couldn’t do this guy roommate thing. Not with Sascha Nikolaev. Not with that…she couldn’t look away…in her living room every morning. It was all wrong.

  She was the sexy vixen. She was the one supposed to induce temptation and dirty thoughts as she tortured him with her sultry charm and collection of lacy boy shorts.

  Hawke casually glanced over his shoulder. He didn’t even bother with a smile. “Good morning.”

  Cocky bastard.

  Cressida threw her hands out, showcasing the display of flesh. “What is this?”

  “The splits.”

  She clenched her teeth together. “In the living room?”

  Hawke finally sat up. “Apparently.”

  Her gaze trained to the tiny patch of skin as it disappeared underneath his shirt. Maybe Magnolia was right. She’d lost all hope of common sense. “This isn’t going to work.”

  She tore her gaze away from him. His attire…the morning stubble…she hadn’t prepared for that at all. Cressida stalked into the kitchen. She needed caffeine and maybe a shot of bourbon.

  “What do you mean this isn’t going to work? I’ve already moved my stuff in.”

  She flipped the top of her coffee maker open and shoved one of the tiny cups inside of it. The shadow of his figure pressed into her back. Even across the room he taunted her. This time his voice was deep. “Cressida.”

  It wasn’t a question. He demanded her attention.

  Where the hell is my coffee mug?

  He stepped closer and her hand gripped the counter at the sound of his ruff voice. “I have to stretch every morning. It’s part of my routine.”

  Cressida found her mug in the cabinet only to remember she hadn’t made it to the liquor store yet. The coffee would have to do. She shoved the mug under the machine and pushed start.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “My room is too small. So, unless you want to trade me the master suite, the living room is my best option.”

  Cressida turned around, attempting to keep her expression calm and at least semi-collected. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  She allowed her gaze to rake down his body. Every exposed, torturous inch of it. She intended to bring attention to his lack of attire, but she held the sight of him for one moment too long.

  He smirked. “Uncomfortable? Are you sure that’s the right adjective?”

  Cressida really, really hated him.

  “Pants, Nikolaev. They had those things in Moscow, right?”

  He pursed his lips and moved a fraction of an inch closer.

  Fudge him.

  “First off, I was born in Siberia. Not Moscow. Secondly, pants don’t allow me the range of motion I require.”

  Her breath turned heavy as her coffee maker spewed and steamed behind her. She wanted to turn around, to escape his gaze. He eyed the knot in her robe. She could practically see the dirty little cogs turning in his mind.

  She should be angry. She should scream at him and kick him out. End this insane notion that she could live with a man, but she couldn’t even turn around for her coffee. She would not let him win. He wouldn’t be permitted to see this…weakness. She straightened her shoulders and set her jaw tight. “Pants, my dear Sascha. If you are to live here…stretch here…then you must wear pants.”

  The use of his real name caused a slight fire to blaze in his eyes, but it quickly transformed into something else. Something devious. Wicked. “And you?”

  He was in front of her. His fingers grazing the knot at her waist as his gaze flowed down to her bare legs. She parted her lips to speak, but it was too late. He grabbed the edge of the tie and with one swift jerk, her house coat fell open.

  She had on shorts. Sparkly shorts, but shorts none the less. Hawke appeared exceptionally disappointed.

  Good. He could join the club.

  Cressida quickly jerked the sides back together and tied the knot while glaring at her roommate as if the action hadn’t set her sparkles on fire.

  Her sparkles were toast. She retrieved her coffee and stalked past Hawke to the safe, brief-free confines of her bedroom. Her vagina was simply confused. She could not be attracted to her roommate. />
  Magnolia was right. Rooming with Hawke Nikolaev was a horrible idea.

  Chapter Seven

  Hawke’s Fight

  Protecting Cressida Wales wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d predicted. All the guys on the team somehow knew about their living arrangements already and Hawke could have sworn the little one, Sam, threatened him at breakfast.

  Maybe these guys aren’t so bad after all.

  Either way, Hawke would have to break his cardinal rule and confide in Cressida about The Circle. She wasn’t the type to simply stop asking questions and after their encounter that morning, she needed to understand why he had to keep a professional distance from her.

  He’d wanted her from the instant she strutted into the living room in that tiny robe. He might have flirted with her, but he could have told himself no. He was disciplined. He knew where to draw the line. That was before she looked at him…no, mentally undressed him in the middle of the kitchen.

  He continued to underestimate her and it had to stop. He would tell her the truth. He would keep her safe.

  Hawke also had to manage to get her friends off his back. He couldn’t risk Sam or the others convincing her to kick him out. Austin and Henrik kept an especially close eye on him and Callen Copley just glared at him constantly. The team was going out to lunch and he begrudgingly agreed to tag along hoping to score some good graces in their favor. He needed to call Cressida first. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed her number. She picked up on the first ring.

  “What do you want?”

  Hawke tried not to smile. Cressida was apparently still in a mood. “Hello to you too, Roomie. I was just calling to see if you wanted to grab dinner this afternoon since we haven’t been grocery shopping.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yeah. And I’ll even wear pants.”

  “Hawke, really there is no need to apologize for this morning. I’m just not used to waking up to ass in my face.”

  “I’m not apologizing. It isn’t my fault your attraction to me makes you uncomfortable.” He really wished he could see her face. Those shiny lips curled into a snarl. He hurried to cut off whatever curse she was about to spout at him. “I want to take you to dinner because I owe you an explanation for that day in the parking lot.”