Something About a Hot Guy

by A. L. Jackson

  God, I loved to torture myself with the impossible, didn’t I?

  Letting my imagination get the best of me. Teasing me with what could never be. I’d already learned that the hard way.

  He shouldered by, stealing my breath, the brush of our skin sending a cascade of shivers tumbling down my spine as he pushed his way into the apartment.

  A waterfall pooling in the middle of me. Pounding and overflowing.

  “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

  Um, he really was the clueless one, wasn’t he?

  From over his shoulder, he sent me a smile that nearly dropped me to my knees, all one-sided dimple and plush lips and mischievous eyes.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch. And I won’t make either of you pay rent for the rest of your lease, how’s that sound?”

  How’s that sound?

  It sounded like my worst nightmare.

  “I’ll do you a favor, and I won’t even walk around in my underwear. I mean, unless you want me to.”

  He winked, hitting me with all that reckless easiness that punched me in the gut. A fist right through my belly and gripping my stomach in a want and desire so intense that it physically hurt.

  I swayed under the force of it, and my hand darted out to the back of the couch to keep myself from faceplanting on the hardwood floor.

  “You . . . you can’t possibly stay here?” Panic started to set in when I realized he was serious, that this man was really going to be invading my space, my heart quickening to a boom, a deep, dark thunder rolling through my being.

  “I mean, we have a whole schedule and our lives and you’re . . . you’re . . .”

  I waved my hands in the air as if maybe that would be enough resistance to scare him away. Enough reason for him to leave.

  I had to find some way to stop this from happening.

  He was a danger to my sanity.

  To my heart.

  To my safe little world.

  All it took was him stepping through the door and my entire world had become a bomb threat. I could already feel the ground trembling, sex and power and influence coming off of him in waves, so distinct I was sure you could bottle it and sell it for a billion bucks.

  He’d always had that effect on me.

  My senses perking whenever he came within a mile vicinity, every part of me getting needy like a lap dog that wanted to be petted.

  I’d hoped once I’d moved out of our small town and into the city that it would have faded. That I would have outgrown this childish fascination.

  How unfair was it that it’d only increased tenfold since he’d been away? Grown and expanded and become this palpable entity that I could feel glowing in my center. Begging for something that I could never have.

  I had to get him out of there, and I had to do it fast.

  He angled his head. “And I’m . . .?” he prodded when I trailed off into a stupor of silence.

  “You’re you.” My arms flailed outward, as if I were waving the evidence of him in his face. “You’re messy and arrogant and . . . and a boy.”

  “A boy, huh?” Amusement rode out on his rough words, the man so pretty and cocky and infuriating.

  “Yes, yes, a boy, and boys are totally not welcome.”

  Oh my God.

  I was twelve.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, a smile twitching all over his magnificent face. “Are you finished?”

  “Not even close. I mean, when we signed that lease, there was no mention that you might be back. I know it’s your apartment, and all, but what . . . what if we have company?”

  I said the last as if it were sordid. And I wondered if he had the first clue that was the farthest from the truth when it came to me. Not that he’d care. But I was pretty sure Vanessa might care if he was invading her privacy.

  That’s right.

  I was doing this for her. For my friend who had always been there for me. At least that was what I was telling myself.

  He plopped on the couch and grabbed the remote.

  My mouth dropped open. “Kyle. Are you even listening to me?” I pled, feeling invisible, trying to be brave and stand up for myself.

  “I’m not sure how I couldn’t be, considering you won’t stop talking. It’s been a long flight. I could use a little quiet.”

  The audacity. He really was rude. How had I forgotten?

  Huffing, I stamped my foot and started for him so I could grab the remote before he completely tuned me out.

  I should have known better than to even move in his vicinity.

  Should have known my clumsiness would get the best of me.

  Because my little toe caught on the leg of the end table at the side of the couch, and oh my goodness, the pain. Splintering pain that shot up my toe and foot.

  A shout of agony burst free of my mouth.

  “Oh . . . shoot. Oh my goodness. Oh my . . . fuuuuudge.”

  I was gasping for breath as I hauled my foot up, holding it in my hands to try to ease the sharp, breathtaking pain as I hopped around erratically on one foot, flying from one side and then to the other.

  Kyle shot to standing, and before I could make sense of it, those big hands were on the outside of my arms. Holding me up.

  Warmth spread across my flesh.

  Molten chocolate.

  At least, that’s what I’d always envisioned his touch would feel like. Only, it was so much better than that, fire that flamed up my skin and seeped in deep. This intense energy transferred in the connection. I wanted to melt into it. Get lost in the sensation.

  Too bad I was the only one who felt the spark.

  I whimpered with the pain that had started to throb, unable to stop tears from pricking at my eyes.

  Leave it to me to make a complete fool of myself.

  Without an ounce of effort, he lifted me by the arms and shifted me around, and he carefully sat me down on the couch.

  “I think I’m dying,” I cried, sure there wasn’t a worse pain in all the world than stubbing your little toe.

  Forget childbirth.

  Or maybe I was just dying of embarrassment.

  “Are you all right?” There was no missing the bit of laughter he was holding back as he knelt down in front of me.

  Groaning, I threw my arm over my eyes. “No. I think I broke it. And don’t laugh at me.”

  “You didn’t break it.” He tsked a little, and it was low and soft and made all kinds of funny things happen in my belly that I definitely shouldn’t be feeling right then. Especially with the way he was right there, in my space, the man prying my foot from my hold and cradling it in his hands.

  Heat flamed, glowing from within, filling me with need, my thighs shaking with something else entirely than the anxiety that loved to hold me prisoner.

  Studying my foot, he winced. “Shit . . . you did a number on this. It’s already swollen.”

  My eyes flew open. “Are you serious? Oh, no . . . it’s broken, isn’t it? Why does this always happen to me?”

  “Let me get some ice. Sit tight.”

  “Like I’m going anywhere.”

  He climbed to standing, though he didn’t move away. He just leaned over me, his presence thick and massive and overwhelming, so much so that my chest heaved with a needy pant. His mouth came up close to my ear. “And neither am I.”

  Shivers raced, stealing the blood from my head, replacing it with a swell of lightheadedness that wooshed through my senses.

  Leaving me weak.

  I tried to gather myself when he moved for the kitchen, all that cool easiness radiating from every step he took. Desperately, I tried not to stare over the back of the couch as he sauntered to the refrigerator, but there was nothing I could do but watch as he moved.

  Confidence oozing from that body.

  So easy.

  Easy in a way I’d never known.

  He filled a zippy bag with ice while I sat there shaking with apprehension, hating that I was this way. For just one day, I wanted to
be normal. Confident and strong and brave.

  Sexy.

  Wield the kind of power this man wielded over me.

  Just as fast as he’d gone, he was back with a dishtowel wrapped around the bag. He returned to kneeling in front of me, careful as he placed the bag on my aching toe.

  I flinched at the cold, then gave in as he spread a big hand around my ankle and gently pressed the cold pack to my toe.

  “There we go.”

  Unable to bear his proximity, I reached for it.

  Kyle nudged my hand away. “I’ve got it.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I whispered, realizing I was begging. That I needed him to understand I couldn’t be this close to him and not feel as if I were coming apart. Missing something that I’d wanted for far too long.

  Loving someone from afar was the cruelest sort of penalty. Watching them go on without you as if they’d never noticed you were there in the first place.

  Rough laughter scraped up his throat. “Clueless Kenna.”

  A hurt breath left me, and the tears I’d been trying not to cry welled in my eyes. I couldn’t believe he would still call me that. After all this time. What was more disturbing was that it still affected me this way.

  He resituated my leg, propping it up on the couch and tucking a pillow under my ankle. My lungs squeezed in pain, and I was barely able to inhale, wondering how he could put me down and then take care of me so tenderly in the same breath.

  That gaze swept up, dark eyes penetrating, and those shallow breaths raking from my lungs completely stalled out.

  His mouth twisted up in a way that took my insides with it, everything getting tangled and tight, and he reached up and brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen in my face, his expression different than I’d ever seen it before.

  His tongue swept across his plump bottom lip, the words a low, seductive rasp. “Clueless, Clueless Kenna.”

  Two

  Kyle

  Clueless Kenna.

  Clueless, awkward, sexy-as-fuck Kenna.

  She was killing me.

  Breaths coming from her lush mouth in these rough, choppy pants, the girl pinned under me on the couch, those brown eyes wide and unsure.

  No doubt, I was making things up, but I could have sworn I saw them flaming with desire, too.

  “Please, don’t call me that,” she whispered, her chest shaking.

  Did she actually think I was putting her down?

  A smile pulled to my mouth, and fuck yeah, I’d teased her growing up. That’s what boys did when they crushed on a girl so hard they went stupid.

  “And what would you like me to call you?”

  Baby sounded about right.

  “My name works just fine. I do at least understand that.”

  Apparently, she didn’t have the first clue how damn appealing that she was. Had anyone ever told her?

  I’d nearly come undone when she’d opened the door, standing there in what I was pretty sure was a man’s sweatshirt that swallowed her whole.

  Instantly, I was hard. Mind running with the idea that she didn’t have a stitch on underneath.

  Completely bare.

  Tits puckered and needy. As needy as the sweet spot between her thighs. Didn’t even care that she had toothpaste dried on her forehead.

  But half the time, it felt like she despised me. Like she wanted to split the second we got in the same room.

  Which had always gotten to me since she was the kindest person I’d ever met. I’d spent years watching her give and give and give. Girl would ignore the insults and abuse and snubs that assholes would cast her way, turning right around and pouring out her goodness into the world when it didn’t deserve to receive the genuine inner beauty of this girl.

  Was I that bad of a guy that I didn’t deserve any of that?

  The fact my sister would cut my balls off if I even thought about touching her best friend only came in as a close second.

  Only I thought about it.

  A lot.

  “How about . . . Cupcake Kenna?” That sounded nice, right? Not too forward? Because I was thinking she might not take too kindly to something along the lines of I want to get lost in your sweet cunt Kenna.

  Too far?

  Yeah.

  She rolled her eyes like she thought I was mocking her.

  If she only knew.

  And now I was really, really hungry for a cupcake.

  Fuck my life.

  My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I hovered, wavered, relished in the feel of her heart beating wild in the bare space between us.

  Shit. I wanted to kiss her. Climb onto this couch and crawl all over her. Take her hard and then take her slow.

  Like she saw the intention written on me, panic surged through her expression, and she started to fidget and get all flustered in that adorable way that set her apart from everyone.

  She pressed her hand against my chest, then she jerked her hand away, like she’d thought better of that, too. “I’m fine now, Kyle. Honest. I’ve got it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  There she went, pushing me away, though when she did it, I swore I heard an undercurrent of sadness lacing the words.

  I wanted to grab her hand and lock it to my chest so she could feel the crazy thing going down inside. So she could feel the way she affected me. Desperate to know if there was any chance she might feel the least bit the same.

  Had told myself not to think about her on my way back to the States. Told myself it was never going to happen. To fucking forget it.

  But that didn’t come close to stopping the fantasies from assaulting me. The feelings that annihilated me the second I saw her standing at the door.

  “What if I’ve always worried about you?”

  A frown pulled across her brow. “You’ve always been full of yourself, Kyle Love, but I never took you for a liar.”

  It was my turn to frown. “You really think I don’t care about you? You’ve been Vanessa’s best friend since you were a little girl. You’re basically family.”

  She shifted her gaze away when I claimed it, like maybe she didn’t know how to accept that truth.

  My sister was crazy protective over her. I got why. Those nasty bitches in high school couldn’t exactly be considered nice. I’d gone to bat for her more than a couple of times, though I doubted it made any difference. Mean girls were always mean girls. Fucking sucked, but that was the life of high school, wasn’t it?

  But we weren’t in high school anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. And Kenna? Even amid all that bullshit? She’d still been generous to everyone. Kind and considerate and thoughtful. Going out of her way to make someone smile.

  Yeah.

  She was drop-dead gorgeous. The kind of girl that would make me trip all over myself. But it was her humility that had always made her shine. It was the way she’d stop to take care of a stranger without thought. The way she’d go out of her way to do the right thing, without asking for anything in return.

  She was the real deal.

  A scowl pulled to her adorable face, turned-up nose and full cheeks, a pink bow for lips.

  She laughed a disbelieving sound. “You don’t have to pity me, Kyle. I get it. And I’m fine. Just . . . go do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I’ll be sure to get out of your way as soon as I can.”

  This time, I did grab her hand, holding it tight. Heat licked and flamed. I was a second from losing it, confessing every fucking thing that I kept bottled up tight. “I’m not here to kick you out of your own damn apartment. You’re staying.”

  She pried her hand free, a look I couldn’t make out crossing her face. “One of us is leaving.”

  I guessed she really did hate me. Had no idea what I’d done, but I’d seen the way she’d looked at me for all those years.

  Like just being in my presence made her want to puke.

  Let me tell you, it made a teenaged boy feel super awesome. Did wonders for his self-confidence.

&nbs
p; While other girls were throwing themselves at me, the one I wanted wouldn’t even look me in the eye. On some level, I got that she was shy, but the man in me hadn’t gotten it at all.

  Frustration bled into my bones, and I edged up closer, getting right in her face. “Sorry, cupcake, but that’s not gonna happen. This is your home, and you’re not going anywhere. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Get used to it.”

  A smirk ticked up on the corner of my mouth, and I tried to lighten the mood that was feeling far too heavy. “Besides, what would I do with all this pink shit?”

  Hesitation brimmed around her before a small smile was pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I guess I would have to take it with me. Although I’m pretty sure your sister would fight me over it. You know how much she hates people messing with her things.”

  For the first time, there was a softness to her words, and it made me feel like a king that maybe my attempt had worked.

  “I bet she would. Every time I even touched her toys as a kid, she lost her mind.” Affection filled my voice. “You’d have thought I’d started a world war when I hid her Barbie dolls.”

  A hint of amusement touched her cheeks, her shyness so damn sweet. “I’m pretty sure that might have had something to do with the fact that when we found them, they all were wearing the wrong heads. Poor Ken had boobs.”

  “Never said I wasn’t creative.”

  “Creative? I’d call that psychotic. Dismembering poor, innocent dolls. Isn’t that a sign of a horrible disorder?”

  God, she was cute when she was playful. When she let go a little bit.

  I could feel the wistful grin tugging at my mouth as I stared down at her. Getting lost in those brown eyes, in the way they flitted over my face, jumping from my eyes to my mouth and away, like she didn’t know where to look.

  Shit, I wanted to lean in closer. Drink her in.

  Dip in. Dive in.

  I edged closer. Closer and closer.

  Fuck.

  If I erased any more space between us, I’d be crawling on top of her, pushing her over a line she clearly didn’t want me crossing.

  I stood before I did something stupid.

  “So . . . what do you want to do today?”