by Marie York
Her eyes raked over my face as her breathing picked up. “Got it,” she murmured. “Don’t let a guy get this close.”
“Never,” I said, and moved my head closer to hers, unable to resist those pretty plump lips. She didn’t heed my warning. I tried to control myself, but my control was out the fucking window. I crushed my lips to hers, and, my God, was she the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted.
I wanted to taste every gorgeous curve, every single inch of her. I swiped my tongue across her crease, demanding her to let me in. She parted her lips, and a moan slipped out. It fueled the fire raging inside of me, and I thrust my hands into her ponytail, knotting my fingers into her curls.
Her hands roamed up my sides, and I pressed my rock hard cock against her center. I wanted inside of her so desperately. It had been fucking torture trying to keep my hands to myself.
I cupped her cheek, and then ran my hand down her neck, going to the one place I’d been dreaming about for weeks. I grabbed her tit, and squeezed the amazing flesh. I tore my lips away from her, and kissed her neck, sucking and licking as I trailed a path down to her shoulder.
Suddenly, her hands froze on my sides. “Stop!” she yelled, and started struggling beneath me.
My entire body came to a halt as I lifted off of her. “What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head almost violently. “I need to go.”
I pushed off of her, and tried to reason with myself, but frustration and anger poured out. I slammed my fist into the post, the ropes shook, and she flinched. “Was this your plan? Get me all riled up, and then fucking leave?”
She sat up and pulled her knees against her chest. Shame and embarrassment radiated off her, and I was happy for it. “No,” she whimpered.
“Then, what is it? Because you’ve been driving me fucking crazy for weeks. I can’t get rid of you. You’re in my head, in my dreams, fucking everywhere. And what was that shit about me not being that guy? Why even fucking say that? Clearly, you think I am.” She stood up and came to me, resting her hand on my arm, but I shook it off. “Don’t touch me right now. Not if you’re going to walk out that fucking door.”
She let out a sigh, as confusion and God knows what flashed across her face. Her body went to move toward me, but then she quickly turned around, and climbed out of the ring.
When she was on the ground, she stopped and turned to me. “For the record. I don’t think you’re that guy. It’s me, not you,” she said, and took off before I could say another word.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? This is exactly why I didn’t get involved. Chicks were out of their goddamned minds. Still, I found myself heading for the door, but, as I reached for the handle, I stopped myself.
I didn’t run after girls. They came to me.
Chapter 12
It had been two days since Brooklyn left me horned up and alone. She hadn’t come to one session or even our personal nightly ones. Like a fucking moron, I went to Mark’s place, and sat there the past two nights, hoping she’d show.
It was my out. I was already in too fucking deep for my liking, but I couldn’t walk away just yet. Why? I had no fucking clue. All I knew was I was a fucking idiot for not saying screw this and moving on with my life. I had a fight to focus on. That was my life. But I couldn’t get Brooklyn out of my head. No amount of alcohol, and not even a slut who gave the best head, could erase Brooklyn from my mind. She was a goddamned parasite, gnawing away at my insides.
So, without even thinking, I drove to the diner where she worked. Just like last time, I had no idea what I was going to say, or what was going to happen, but unlike last time, I didn’t get my hopes up. It would probably end worse than the last time we spoke, but I didn’t care. I needed to see her.
Her car wasn’t in the lot. I glanced down at the clock. It was just after five thirty, the middle of her shift. I put Tanya in park and went inside. The place was outdated with ripped up vinyl booths and fifty years of grease buildup on the floor.
“One?” A woman with blonde frizzy hair, and way too much blue eye shadow asked in a harsh voice as she picked up a menu. She turned back to me and smiled. Her teeth were stained, probably from years of smoking.
“Actually, no.” I smiled back, amping up the charm. “I was looking for someone who works here. Brooklyn. Is she coming in today?”
“Oh no, sweetie. She’s been out the past two days. Said she’s sick. The flu or something. I offered to bring her some of our famous chicken noodle soup, but she told me it wasn’t necessary.”
She seemed fine the other night. Not even a sniffle. “Thanks anyway,” I said, and walked out.
Sick my ass. More like she didn’t want me to find her. Well, too damn bad. I still had a shit ton to say, and I was going to fucking say it. I headed back to the gym, and nodded at Randy, but he was too busy flirting with a teenage girl to notice me. He needed to watch himself. Because, one of these days, he was going to get his ass thrown in jail for statutory rape, and not because he liked them young, but because he was too fucking stupid to realize they were underage. Right now, however, that was his problem, I had my own to deal with.
I logged into the computer system, and typed Brooklyn’s name in. A few seconds later, her file popped up with her information and address. I tapped it into the GPS on my phone, and took off to find her.
She lived in the shit part of town. Rundown houses and too many shady people loitering outside strip malls. No wonder she wanted to learn how to defend herself. She should be carrying a fucking gun and pepper spray just to get the mail.
The GPS directed me to a brick building that, luckily, was the nicest looking thing on this block. I pulled into the parking lot, and made my way to 5B.
The hall smelled like curry and mildew, a vile combination. I came up to her door, and laughed at the welcome mat beneath it with flowers and butterflies. It was the brightest thing in this dingy hallway.
I banged on the door, expecting I’d have to do a lot of coaxing to get her to actually open it, but within seconds, it flew open.
A big guy with a crew cut and dog tags hanging around his neck stood there. “Can I help you?” he asked.
I looked down the hall, and then back at the number on the door. This was it. “I’m looking for Brooklyn. She home?”
“Who the fuck are you?” the guy growled. Like that would fucking intimidate me. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring me down. I didn’t care how big his fucking arms were. I could take him down with one hit.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded back.
“Her husband,” he barked, and I stumbled away like I just took a direct blow to the chest.
Shock exploded inside me, and I needed to get out of there before I put my hand through something. Without another word, I took off, swearing to all that was holy that I would never look at a girl as more than a body and a hole ever again.
The End
Look for the next book in the Imperfect Chaos Series
Yours
available August 5th, 2015
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~ Keep reading for an excerpt from Perfect Chaos ~
Chapter 1
Two years ago
There was only one thing I wanted for my sixteenth birthday. It was nothing my parents’ money could buy me either. No. What I wanted didn’t come in a box or from a store. I was no longer a child, and tonight, for my birthday I would get Beckham Fox.
Beckham would undoubtedly be here, just as he had been every night since he and my brother became friends four years ago. In less than a month, they would both be off to college, and I needed to make my move now.
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I looked in the mirror, admiring the sexy pink bra and panties I bought for this very occasion. My breasts, while not as big as I wanted them to be, looked hot pushed up against the lacy material. Bronzer accented the small swells, and gave me a pretty glow. I ran my fingers through my blonde hair, twisting the bottoms to give it a slight curl.
I stood a little taller—confidence looked good on me—before sliding into my favorite summer dress. The same one I noticed Beckham do a double take at only a few weeks ago.
Having Beckham as my boyfriend would be the ultimate dream come true. But, I was realistic. He was two and a half years older than me, on his way to college, and I was still a junior in high school. There was no way he’d want a relationship. So, I was going to give him what I knew he wanted.
Sex.
And, it wasn’t just what he wanted either. I wanted it too. My virginity was the only thing in my way. Mom had the talk with me not too long ago, telling me virginity was special. Something I needed to treasure and be careful with because I could only give it away once. Which is why I chose Beckham.
A smile settled across my face, as I thought about the moment he figured out I wanted to give him the ultimate gift on my birthday. He would be flattered, and stare into my soul with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his, and then he’d lay me on the bed and make love to me.
“Kennedy, dinner’s almost ready,” Mom yelled from downstairs.
I dabbed my lips with a little more gloss, air kissed my reflection and ran downstairs. I followed the delicious scent of barbeque outside to the patio.
Mom set the table while Dad finished getting the steaks onto a plate. The yard was already decorated for my party tomorrow, with pink and silver balloons along the pool gate. I couldn’t wait to tell my girlfriends about my greatest gift of all.
I scanned the yard, searching for Beckham.
“Mom, where’s Nixon and Beckham?” I asked, making sure to use my brother’s name first to make it less suspicious.
“Ran to the store to get your orange soda. Can you go inside, and get me the napkins?”
“Sure,” I said, turning around, and heading back to the house. I’d reapply my lip gloss too to make sure it was fresh when I finally saw Beckham.
Just the thought of him had me skipping through the living room. I spun around the bend into the kitchen, and slammed smack dab into his hard chest. It felt amazing, and, God, did he smell good. Aftershave and cologne that was refreshing, yet masculine. I ran my hand up his abs, and rested it against the curve of his pec.
“Beckham,” I whispered, glancing up, and locking eyes with the most gorgeous man alive. His dirty blond hair fell across his forehead, and it took all that I had not to reach up and swipe it back in place.
His fingers wrapped around my hand, and I warmed at the contact. I swallowed down the desire to lift myself on tiptoes and touch my lips to his.
He smiled, and I was happy he was holding my hand because my knees weakened at the sight.
“You need to be more careful, Kenny,” he said, calling me by the nickname he gave me, which I was seriously growing to dislike. It put me in the category as one of his boys, and I didn’t want to be grouped with them. I wanted him to see me as Kennedy, a girl he couldn’t resist. And tonight he would.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to all my readers who have given me a chance, and have been nothing short of amazing.
My lovelies, thank you for your support, and look out for more fun. It’s just the beginning.
Ashley, you are my right hand man and none of this would be possible without you. Thanks for everything.
Mark My Words, you guys are lifesavers. Thanks to all of you, I can dedicate my time to my characters and not have to worry about a single thing because I know I am in good hands.
Morgan Black, for showing me the ropes and always willing to answer my many questions. You’re a lifesaver.
Savvy Rylan, my author bestie, for being the one I can always bounce ideas off of, no matter how crazy.
Last I’d like to thank my favorite thing in the whole world. Cocktails you are my best friend thanks for always being there when I need you ;)
About the Author
Marie York is an American writer who works the corporate circuit by day but come nightfall transforms into a steamy writer. She loves the city life and a good cocktail.
