Bad Habit (Bad Love Book 1)

by Charleigh Rose

  “Fuck, baby.”

  He tenses up, and his mouth parts in ecstasy. The veins on his neck and arms are bulging as he spills inside of me. He collapses onto my chest, and I love the feeling of his weight on top of me.

  “Don’t ever take this away from me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as he circles his hips, giving soft, tiny thrusts. His head is nuzzled in between my breasts, and his face sticks to my skin. I run my fingers through his damp hair as I come back down to earth.

  After our breathing has returned to normal, he pulls out, slowly, and both of us groan at the loss. I feel our wetness pooling, and he pulls his black tee over his head and brings it between my legs. With more tenderness than I knew he was capable of, he cleans me up. When I bring my knees back together, he stops me, pushing them back open to make sure he got every last drop.

  I sit up, and the first thing I notice is Asher’s freshly inked side.

  “Asher,” I gasp, carefully tracing the design with my fingertips. It’s the drawing from his drawer. The skull with the succulents and roses covering one eye. And this time, I have no doubt in my mind that it’s for me.

  “Dare did it,” he supplies.

  “It’s beautiful.” And it is.

  “It’s us,” he says simply.

  Ash scoops me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I tuck my head into the space between his neck and his shoulder. Our sticky, love-drunk bodies fusing as one as he carries me back toward the living room.

  He lowers us onto the plush carpet in front of the fireplace, and we lie there, tangled together, unspeaking for who knows how long, before he finally succumbs to sleep. He looks so innocent like this. Thick, dark eyelashes fanned against cheeks with the faintest of freckles scattered across them. His lips are slightly parted, and the worry lines between his eyebrows no longer exist.

  Because he’s at peace. And so am I.

  Epilogue

  Briar

  One year and two months later.

  “You can come home any time now,” Nat says into my ear. I’m on the phone with her, driving the tree-lined, windy roads in River’s Edge. Two months after Asher vowed to never leave me again, I turned eighteen and moved in with him. He stayed at his dad’s house while he was waiting for it to sell, and I stayed at my parents’ home. I knew those remaining two months of still being seventeen weren’t going to make any kind of difference, but I think it was my way of making sure it was going to stick this time. But, I didn’t let Asher buy that house he showed me, even after we christened every surface. One night when we were driving to meet my brother for dinner, I told him that I fell in love with River’s Edge and asked what he thought about starting our new beginning there. He promptly showed me exactly how he felt by swinging his truck into a crowded parking lot, pulling me onto his lap, and fucking me right there in the open. It’s kind of our thing—sex in semi-public places.

  Speaking of my brother, Dashiell and Asher somehow managed to become even closer than they were before. I worried for a while, because it was a rough adjustment period. Dash finally realized that it was really that different at all. Dash, Asher, Adrian, and I… We’re all still best friends. The dynamic hadn’t changed much in that sense. The only difference is that two of us also liked to fuck each other. A lot. Every chance we got.

  Dash completed his bachelor’s degree, and next year he’ll start law school. In the meantime, he likes to drag Adrian up to River’s Edge every chance he gets. They get to see us, and they get to prey on the pretty tourists. Win-win.

  Adrian likes to claim that he’s the reason we’re together in the first place and has demanded that we name our firstborn after him to show our everlasting gratitude.

  Nat is balancing college and working at the boutique, so we don’t get to see each other all that much, but we still talk daily.

  As for Whitley and Jackson? I haven’t heard from either one of them. I’m pretty sure Jackson went on living as nothing happened. The jury’s still out on Whitley. I hope she got the help she so clearly needs.

  My phone beeps, signaling my mom calling on the other line, and I make a mental note to call her later. The biggest surprise of the last year was when she announced she was divorcing my dad. Apparently, their issues ran deeper than I ever knew. In a rare, candid moment, my mom informed me that my father had been having affairs behind her back. Yes, plural. As in, multiple affairs.

  I was floored, but Dashiell didn’t seem too surprised. It made me wonder if he knew more than he let on. She admitted that she didn’t leave him sooner because she didn’t want to disrupt our lives. My mom made a lot of unseen sacrifices over the years, and though I wish she had put herself first, it makes me see her in a different light. It’s comforting to know that she cared all along. She’s living back at home, trying to figure out who she is without my dad. And of course, my dad stayed in California. We’ve talked a few times, but except for the occasional birthday call or text asking me if I’d like to come visit him, we don’t really speak. He did apologize for the effect his decision had on Ash, but stands firm that he made the right choice as a father. I understand it, but I don’t agree with it.

  “Or, you could just come live here. You’d love it in the wintertime, Nat. It’s like a magnet for hot guys. Foreign hot guys. With accents.”

  Asher was right; this place really does look like a snow globe in the winter. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not used to seeing snow, having lived in Arizona my whole life, but everything just feels magical here. People come to River’s Edge from all over the world. In the winter, we have snowboarding and skiing. In the summer, everyone comes for the lake.

  “I’ll come visit soon. I promise.”

  “Good. Hey, I have to go. I’m about to lose service,” I say as I approach the narrow road that leads to our little cabin in paradise. When you live as deep into the woods as we do, you can forget finding a signal.

  “Okay. I love you, B. And I’m really happy for you.”

  “I love you, too,” I say, laughing at her random display of emotion.

  I pout when I pull into the driveway to see that Ash isn’t home from work yet. With Dare focusing most of his attention on the new shop, Bad Intentions, Ash has been working six, sometimes seven, days a week during peak season. Between that and the fact that I have to make the forty-five-minute journey to nursing school five times a week, we haven’t seen each other as much as we’d like in the past month or so.

  I grab my purse before I make my way to our modest, but beautiful little cabin. The entire front is made up of tall windows, with a deck that wraps around on one side. It’s beyond perfect.

  I’m looking down at my phone as I twist the knob and walk inside. My head snaps up, taking in the dozens of twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling, and I see Asher, standing in front of me with a bouquet of flowers.

  “What is all this?” I laugh. “Where’s your truck?”

  “Happy birthday, baby girl,” he says, handing me the flowers. Only, they aren’t just flowers. It’s a succulent bouquet, and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Thank you,” I say, throwing one arm around his neck, the flowers sandwiched between us.

  His hands rub up and down my back before gripping my hips.

  “They’re beautiful.” I press my mouth to his and suck on his bottom lip, which earns me a groan.

  “Are you happy?” Asher asks, and I realize for the first time since walking in that he looks nervous or unsure.

  “Are you kidding me? I have everything I’ve ever wanted. With you.”

  “I sure as fuck am glad you feel that way,” he says, before dropping to one knee.

  Oh my God.

  My purse and flowers fall to the floor, and I bring my hands to cover my shocked expression.

  “Briar,” he starts, looking up at me with a mix of love and hopefulness and fear. “I don’t know how to do this shit,” he admits. “All I know is that my best side is your worst creation. Everyt
hing good in me is because of you. I’ll never deserve the kind of love and loyalty that you’ve given me since you were just a kid, but I promise to spend every fucking day trying, if you’ll let me. Will you marry me?”

  Tears are streaming down my face, and swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say, “I will marry the shit out of you.”

  He laughs, flashing that perfect smile of his, before producing a ring from his pocket and sliding it onto my finger. It’s a gorgeous, pear-shaped diamond. It’s nothing too ostentatious. It’s perfect. I’m about to tell him how much I love it, when cheers and screams and applause coming from my right have me spinning around, my hand flying to my heart. My mouth drops open in shock to find my brother, Nat, Adrian, my mom, and Dare. They’re all here, in my living room. I look back at Ash, and he simply shrugs in response.

  “I told you I’d visit soon!” Nat shouts, tears shimmering in her big brown eyes.

  “How did everyone get here?” I ask, swiping away the tears from my cheeks. There weren’t any cars in the driveway.

  “Dare’s friends brought us. Left our vehicles at his house, so you’d be surprised.”

  “Well, mission accomplished.” I laugh.

  We spend the next hour or so hugging, gushing, crying, and catching up, before Ash kicks everyone out and leads me to our bed.

  “Are you ready to be Mrs. Kelley?” Ash asks, kissing up my thighs. I squirm under his touch, biting my lip and nodding my head. My heart feels so full in this moment. He continues peppering kisses up my stomach, chest, neck, and lips, before placing the last one on the scar on my temple. The one that serves as a constant reminder of what we almost lost.

  “I love you, Bry,” he says, settling in between my thighs. I feel him hard at my entrance, and I shift my hips, trying to take him into my body.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Now shut up, so I can fuck my fiancée.”

  I laugh out loud, but it morphs into a moan as he pushes inside me, proving that sometimes, bad habits lead to good endings.

  And beginnings.

  The End

  Stalk me! I like it.

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  Confession/Story Time

  This is probably going to end up being a pretty lengthy confession/love letter/explanation. I literally feel like I’m going to vomit at the thought of sending all of this information out into the world, but, it’s time.

  Let’s start with the history of Charleigh Rose. Back in the beginning of 2016, one of my close author friends asked me if I wanted to write short, steamy stories under a pen name. Those novellas were completely different from her brand, and I wasn’t necessarily wanting to put my real name on anything, either (more on that, later).

  I had already been writing a story for a couple of years, by that point (Dare’s story, actually), but had never published anything. I thought it would be a fun way to sort of get my feet wet, so to speak. So, then came the Savages. I loved writing those books, and learning the ropes of self-publishing and all that jazz, but ultimately, I knew it wasn’t the direction I wanted to go in.

  Enter Misbehaved, a full-length, New Adult novel. My first taste of being a “real” author. That’s not a dig at erotica authors, by the way. That was just my own self-deprecating thinking. I love me some erotica. Anyway, after Misbehaved, I knew I couldn’t go back to that novella life. I had the idea for Bad Habit, and asked Charleigh when she wanted to start. Her career sort of blew up after we published our first novella, and she wasn’t able to start on it for a while, so I asked her what she thought of me taking this one on by myself. She was all about it, and CR became mine.

  If you’re wanting a juicy story, you won’t find it here. Seriously, she encouraged me, every step of the way. She was so supportive, and super involved. Because that’s what real friends do. A lot of times, when friends work together, it ruins the friendship, or at the very least, taints it. That’s not the case, here, and I could not be more grateful. It was just the natural progression of things. Plain and simple, without C, this would have never happened. And I don’t just mean Bad Habit, I mean, I never would’ve published at all.

  While we’re on the topic of C, please, please don’t try to uncover her identity, or make guesses in public forums. If you want to do it privately, cool. I know people will be curious, so that’s all gravy, but she doesn’t ever plan to fess up, so we have to respect that. Cool? Cool.

  Back to me, and why I decided to come out. I was hesitant for a few reasons. I didn’t want to reveal myself until a few months after Bad Habit came out, because there is a stigma attached to readers/bloggers/promoters/whatever who decide to take a stab at writing. And though I would NEVER tell anyone not to try something (seriously, I’m not that much of an asshole. Follow your dreams, peeps!), I have been guilty of the same thing. Like, here we go again. Everyone thinks they’re an author.

  I wanted to avoid that drama. I wanted people to give it a chance without having any preconceived notions. I wanted to start fresh as an author. Which brings me to my next reason for staying anonymous. Throughout the years, I’ve made a lot of connections in the book world. Author friends, blogger friends, reader friends. I’m so in love and enmeshed in this community, and I didn’t want anyone to think I was trying to use them to get ahead. So, if you’re my friend, and I didn’t tell you, please know it’s not because I didn’t trust you. I just never wanted to come off as taking advantage of my friendships.

  But, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a hot ass mess. I’ve slipped up more times than I can count, by posting or commenting from the wrong Facebook or Instagram page, or sharing a screenshot with my real name on it. After C stepped back from Charleigh Rose, I got sloppy. In a way, a weight was lifted, because I didn’t feel so much stress to keep it on the downlow. I didn’t care about myself as much as I cared about keeping her secret. I wasn’t the one with anything to lose.

  I started letting people figure it out slowly. Stopped denying it when confronted. It’s what I like to call The Trickle Effect. It’s my lame attempt to lessen any potential drama for this moment. I’m hoping everyone is like, “Yeah, we all knew, already. But OMG, have you read American King, yet?” (Spoiler alert: the answer is no, I have not, but it’s the first fucking thing I’m doing when I publish this book.) But really, I don’t think it’s much of a secret anymore, so I might as well come out on my own terms, before my cover is blown. And if I’m going to suck it up and do it, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to generate some buzz for this release. So, here goes nothing.

  My name is Sunny. Some of you may know me as BossyBookPusher on Instagram, or that annoying chick who never shuts up, and some of you may be scratching your heads wondering who the fuck I am. In that case, this was super anticlimactic, and I’m sorry about the five minutes you lost reading this. That’s five minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.

  If you’re still with me, thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you to the ones who couldn’t care less about the name behind the books. Thank you to the ones who’ve kept my secret, whether you knew from the beginning, or whether you found out by noticing a freckle on my neck (I’m looking at you, Kennedy Fox). Thank you for taking a chance.

  Bad Habit is the very first thing I’ve ever accomplished on my own. I suck at commitment, and I never follow through with anything. But I did it, man. I fucking did it. And for that reason alone, I have no regrets.

  Oh, and one more thing. If we’re friends on my personal page, please don’t mention Charleigh Rose, because my dad is on a mission to find my pen name and read everything I’ve written. In which case, I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again. Don’t break up my family. You don’t want that kind of karma in yo
ur life.

  Love you all,

  Xoxo, Charleigh Rose/Sunny

  Acknowledgments

  I’ll make this snappy since I just wrote my life story up there. First, I have to thank my husband who fed kids, cleaned house, went grocery shopping, and cooked meals, all while essentially being ignored for, like, an entire month. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

  A huge thank you to Paige, my editor, who is always ridiculously accommodating. I don’t know what I would do without you. No, seriously. Don’t leave me. I’d find you.

  Thank you to Leigh for being there every step of the way. You’re the Serena to my Blair. The Jared to my Tate. I love you even when you’re crazy, which is a solid 90% of the time.

  Thank you to Ella, for always keeping it real, and for pushing me when I needed it. I’m so thankful for your friendship. “Put a flower on it!”

  Mary, you’re my favorite. Thank you for being alive. I love you.

  Serena, thank you for all your help. Your excitement and enthusiasm for books is something that cannot be faked or replicated.

  Melissa, thank you for your special brand of encouragement, usually consisting of, “Stop being a pussy and write the book!” Also, you don’t have bad eyebrows, so shut up, Donald.

  Clarissa and Julie, thank you for being the kind of women I want my daughter to grow up to be. You’re my people.

  Shout out to Bex. You’re always willing to drop everything to help me, and having your feedback is vital. Thank you!

  Sash! Thank you for being an amazing admin and an even better friend.