F*ck Buddy
A Stepbrother Romance
COPYRIGHT 2015 SCARLET NORTH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Website: http://www.ScarletNorth.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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F*CK BUDDY
What part of f*ck buddy don't you understand?
It was just supposed to be a quick hook-up. At least that's what I had in mind when I agreed to meet the insanely hot guy on the dating website. The guy with the sexy eyes, and the killer smile... or smirk, as though he already knew any girl would want him. Or at least sleep with him. Because that's all it was supposed to be.
Until it wasn't.
The last thing I wanted was for stupid ‘girly’ emotions to get involved. Guys can get away with casual sex and hook-ups, yet us women always seem to let our hearts get in the way. Give me a break. I was fed up with losers, and determined to just have some fun for the first time in my life. No strings attached. And you never know, maybe let loose and explore my darker side. Nothing as crazy as what Christian Grey might deliver, but something new...something different.
Well, believe me, I got different. It was an absolute sexual awakening. A night unlike any other, and now I'm left wanting more. Much more.
That wasn't the plan. That wasn't what I signed up for.
Damn him... he wasn't supposed to be so intoxicating. So wickedly addictive. So incredibly perfect for me.
Except he isn't. He's the one guy I should never have slept with. He was supposed to be a f*ck buddy, and now he isn’t just the man I can’t stop thinking about – he’s my damn stepbrother. FML.
NOTE TO READERS: THIS IS A FULL-LENGTH STANDALONE ROMANCE NOVEL WITH A HEA.
Table of Contents
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
Liam
Jackie
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Jackie
"Look, I'm sorry if I led you on."
Was he... actually fucking serious right now?
Jackie's brow quirked.
If he'd led her on? He was joking, right?
"What are you talking about, Colin?"
Slowly, he was transforming before her eyes from the caring, potential boyfriend she foolishly begun to categorize him as, into a predatory panty-sniffer who'd finally decided he had his fill.
Wide-eyed and obviously fumbling for a reason that would get him away from her as fast as possible, he just barely managed to stutter over his words. Running a hand through his sandy, brown hair, he took a breath and leaned back against the door frame.
His body language was crystal clear. She'd been welcome while she'd been a shiny new toy, but since that fateful (stupid) night she'd foolishly let him past the sacred gate, he'd learned she had substance.
Jackie didn't fit his bimbo stereotype.
Hence... the running shoes, and look of utter disgust on her face at the loser.
"I was only looking for a little fun, you know?"
"And... I wasn't?"
Colin smiled, the cobalt blues of his eyes flashing with the charm (that initially masked what an utter idiot he was) coming back online now. Jackie ignored the clean, masculine scent of him, and forced her eyes to keep from dipping below his waist to the one redeeming quality even his idiocy could never wipe from the happy vault in her memory.
Sighing, she folded her arms over her chest.
Smart girls don't ignore red flags.
"You're special, you know. The kind of girl a guy needs to invest in. But I don't have a lot of time with school, see..."
His words took on a rambling, amorphous monotone, and she suddenly felt like she was in a Charlie Brown segment as their meaning and distinction faded off from her. Colin Smith had become a rising star in the culinary world after his stint on the 'Chef Academy' reality show. Someone she'd stupidly let herself become star struck by. Not that she hadn't been warned to proceed with caution.
"Jackie? Did you even hear me?"
Blinking out of thought, she lifted her eyes from his abs where she'd trained her gaze, while she considered where her intelligence had gone when she'd let him conjure the panties off of her.
She, uh, hadn't heard a word after his pathetic attempt to 'let her down easy.'
"Sorry. I was... distracted."
Jackie grinned for good measure, the bedroom eyes the gods had gifted her with staring up at him innocently. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of seeing her faced etched with disappointment. She'd been a conquest. That much was clear now. Fine. But she'd leave him wondering if she'd actually wanted more than to get in his pants. A girl's got to maintain her dignity, especially surrounded by as many panty-hounds as there were at the 'Shoreline School of Culinary Arts.'
"I was saying-"
"Hey, can we talk about this later? I just came to grab my t-shirt. I have something at seven, so... my time is kind of short tonight. Sorry to cut you off."
"Oh."
His mouth formed a slight, surprised circle before he recovered it and flashed her a stock smile.
"Right. Forget it. It's not important. With the new commercial, I think my head is all over the place, you know?"
"Uh huh..."
Stepping past him into his dorm, Jackie searched through his piled up dragon-treasures of bachelorhood, gift boxes from hopeful sponsors, and empty cans of "study fuel" energy drinks, for her prized Skullz tee. It had been Roxanne's shirt before she left for Japan and decided to relieve her closet of some of the glittering frocks and concert, fan gear Jackie had been eying for years.
Jackie was angry as hell when she'd realized she left it at this jack ass's dorm. Not that she'd expected to get "the break-up spiel" when she came to retrieve it. She'd been sharing his bed for a few weeks now, surely long enough for her to pop up and get her things when she needed them.
It was amazing how easily guys got cold feet the minute a sexual arrangement began to look like it might actually be going somewhere. She shouldn't be surprised in this case, but... she sort of was. Colin had seemed different. Like he had more depth than most of the meatheads of their era. Ah, well. You live; you learn.
He was a charmer and the new figurehead for the graduating class. He'd probably been performing all of his life with nearly everyone he came into contact with. And she'd fallen for it. Shame on her for thinking he was different.
She wouldn't make that mistake again. Jackie liked to learn from her little stumbles on the early road to adulthood, thank you very much.
Finally spotting her prize, she snatched it up from beneath his bed, crumpled the tee into her purse, and forced herself to kiss his cheek before she made her
way out of his dorm. Even left him with a: "Take care of yourself." It served him right. He'd second-guess how he'd handled her, then he'd notice she was never around the usual hangouts on campus, and then... he'd call.
Except, now she wouldn't answer.
This whole experience had leadened her gut tonight. It hadn't been the first time she'd been given the polite brush off, or the "too special to rush things with speech," but it would be the last. Jackie was done with his particular brand of asshole. And she was also done leaving the ball in the court of men. If she wanted companionship, she'd just go out and get it. Like a freaking adult. And she'd be careful not to leave her precious things at the apartments of any of her future bed mates.
Passing out of the lobby, the dorm hall doors slammed closed behind her with a punctuating clang, and the cool dusk air swept her glossy, black hair from her face as she rushed through the parking lot. Pulling the buzzing phone from her pocket, she lifted it and frowned.
That was quick. She'd only just left, and he was already calling. Frowning, she swiped the screen and sent the call to voicemail.
No more overgrown boys. Jackie wanted to know what it felt like to be with an actual man for once.
~
So, the night was shaping up to be a boring one, and she was still annoyed. Watching a rerun of Iron Chef while she stroked Merlin absentmindedly, she glanced down at the orange, fur ball, and smiled at her greedy-gummed friend.
Even when she wasn't letting him try this dish or that, he was sneaking into the cupboards and ripping into the gourmet trail mix she'd recently masterminded with her mother.
He was probably the only cat in existence with a regular jones for raisins and cashews. Gatekeeper of the cupboards: Merlin Grey.
Lifting him up half-way, she gave him a smacking kiss on the nose that he didn't scrunch away from this time, and set him back on the couch, rising up herself with an exaggerated stretch. It was Friday night, and she was starting to lose respect for herself for letting Colin get under her skin, even a little.
Because no matter how she framed it: he had - even with her masterfully playing off her disappointment with his lacking maturity. The fact was, he didn't deserve her discontent. Come to think of it, no man deserved it.
If she had it her way, men would suffer the same expected behaviour that they expect from women, such as having Häagen-Dazs nights, in their PJs, watching syndicated reruns, while they battled with the haunting imagery of the objects of their affections flirting with this guy or that.
Stereotypes relegated those kinds of bullshit experiences to women, and Jackie for one was done with them. Women could play it aloof, too. It wasn't like she didn't have a ton of studying ahead of her, and the increasing workload involved in building a miniature snack empire didn't leave her with a lot of playtime.
All she really needed was a sometimes-companion, anyways. A fuck buddy. A sizzling, hot demi-god who made her forget the pressure on her shoulders, but wasn't too dumb to hold a conversation that stimulated her mind.
She could find one of those, right?
Maybe, on one of those dating sites? Jackie's face took on a measuring expression. It worked for her friend Lela. Hell, she and Paolo were still together. It had to be better than speed dating, which she'd tried once, and absolutely loathed.
What Jackie wanted was a night she'd never forget, with a guy whose presence captured masculinity in the raw. Someone she didn't necessarily want a future with who claimed her like a women needed to be claimed.
Popping the top on a gourmet soda her mom wanted her to try out, she leaned back against her kitchen counter with her thoughts consumed by the prospect of it. She was being silly, no? It was brazen, as hell, and it wasn't the kind of game she should be playing unless she was absolutely sure she wouldn't turn back the minute she got her heels on.
Jackie tended to be mercurial like that, true to the definition of the sign of the twins. But when she was fired up, she could get past her fickleness and set her mind on a course she'd stick to.
And this was a course that made sense:
She'd get what she wanted out of the deal.
He'd get what he probably only wanted.
No hearts would be twisted up or bruised in the cruel illusory maw of possibility, as it wouldn't even rear its head because an arrangement is an arrangement. Like a business deal. The more that she thought about it, she couldn't help but smile at how perfect it actually was.
Downing more of her peach soda, she set the can on her counter with a glint in her dark eyes. What was she waiting for? Waiting would turn to second-guessing, and she was doing this (one step for womankind, damn it).
She was joining the man-eater club.
What was that site Lela had used?
Something hearts, she puzzled. It would come back to her.
Nipping her lip contemplatively, Jackie strolled down the hall to her computer with a sense of renewed purpose, the earlier shame of having been half-rejected by a complete simpleton fanned away in the winds of a brilliant new solution. It was simple, but perfect: Romance, hot and sticky, but with no strings. This time with the woman in control.
It couldn't fail.
Everyone won with that kind of arrangement.
Sliding into the computer chair parked at her bedside, she cracked open her netbook and logged past the privacy guards, her heart thumping a little more heartily all the while. There'd been a time when she'd found the idea of dating sites relatively repulsive, but she'd been younger then and inclined to prejudge everything and file it under: #ewww.
A little older now, she saw how much sense it made. You input your interests and what you liked, and site algorithms matched you up with a man who fit the bill. The beautiful part was he was looking for qualities that matched yours, so it was win as long as everyone was entering the truth about themselves.
Fast food romance for the win. Customized exactly to your tastes.
Typing in Two of Hearts, she waited while the DSL connection loaded, reminding herself to upgrade to cable when the promo period was up. She was making far better money now and deserved to leave the world of optimized dial-up in the dust where it belonged.
Her chin ticked up.
She was going to be changing a lot of things.
It's funny how some setbacks can inspire you to clean house, and rearrange your approach to life. Curses, which at their heart were assuredly blessings. Jackie was feeling like a new woman already. She liked where this was going, this... empowerment angle.
Clicking on the dating site's splash page, she sat back in her swivel chair as it offered up several rows of checkboxes, dials, and multiple-choice questions.
A slow smile spread over her face, and she leaned forward, ready to tell the site about herself and what she was looking for. Yep, she was in, and she wasn't turning back. Settling in, she resolved herself to the half-hour it was going to take to fill out the entry form.
Which was just as tedious as it sounds.
But barely an hour passed into her site browsing experience when a ding-notification sent a flush of anticipatory heat to her cheeks. Efficient. The site was set up to allow you a peek at different users, even those who didn't match your preferences while you waited for match-reports.
It was a cool feature, but probably not one that was used a great deal because she hadn't found anyone who'd really caught her eye that way so far, and the few she had been pulled in by were notably not what she was looking for on a mental level.
Jackie hadn't allowed herself to become discouraged, though, and as the red heart flashed above her shiny, new inbox, she got even more fired up at the prospect of what lay behind door number one. Grinning, she reached over and clicked it open, leaning in to ogle the avatar of the smoke-eyed, dark-haired demi god staring back at her.
Can you say "Jackpot?"
Mouth parting agape, she clicked the avatar to visit his profile and drink in his pictures. Was it even possible to be that gorgeous? She'd honestly been
expecting a nice-looking guy, but this one... He could have modeled for CK ads and dated supermodels. Instead, his profile told her he was interested in girls like her: dark-haired, voluptuous, and smart.
"Ladies who had more to offer."
She undoubtedly liked the outer package, but hell, she appreciated the mind already, too. ...If he was actually being upfront, of course. Clicking on his picture folder, she nipped her lower lip, dragging her teeth over it before loosing it.
An absolutely heart-stopping, spine-tingling, absolutely gorgeous god of a man.
Not even a demi-god.
Drawing a breath of courage, Jackie swallowed her nerves and clicked on the IM. The green button by his name told her he was online. Quickly typing into the message box, she deleted the first thing she wrote, opting for something simpler: "What's up?"
Liam
"He's good, book him for the shoot. No. I'm paying a grand for one shoot. Firm. Forget the Diva shit. He lacks the position for it. Don't forget how much this'll do for his portfolio. Raw Ink's name alone will get him a merch ad. Yep. Alright. Call me if he bites."
Clicking off his mobile, Liam sat back at his desk, looking down at the shot of the model that had made him want to hire the kid in the first place. He had a look that would fit the next generation Raw Ink - Europe. Liam was getting tired of being the face of the US shops, let alone the international ones. It'd been a hell of a ride at first, but fanfare quickly reveals the true character of the people you come into contact with at the fame level of things.
When you're a celebrity face with any level of cashable notoriety, the sharks come circling in their shiny, bespoke suits, vamp-red lipstick, stilettoes, and merch deals.
At least, he wasn't so big that he had paparazzi hounding him, yet. With his temper, he'd catch cases over that variation of bullshit; Liam was smart enough to back away now before he got in too deep.
F*ck Buddy Page 1
