Bad Intentions (4 page)

“You didn’t realize she had a brother as sexy as me? No worries. There are zero hard feelings between us, only clothes.” He inches forward and busts my personal bubble. “But I’m down to rectify that if you are.” Wiggling his brows, he makes a disturbing grunt that bubbles up from the depths of his horny soul.

“Clothes? Oh, my gosh.” I tap a palm on my forehead, gently brushing away my forgetfulness. “I grew up in a nudist colony, but my parents forced me to wear appropriate attire for the trip.” My voice raises an octave. “Now that I’m settled in, I don’t see any reason to wear anything at all.” The words rush out without me taking a breath. I sit up and grab the rim of my top. Slowly inching it up, I slide it over my stomach, to expose my navel and an abundance of tanned flesh.

The room fills with a singular gasp.

Mission accomplished.
I roll my eyes and let my top fall into place.

“Ha ha.” Taylor snorts. “You’re my type of girl! Spitfire. Me likey.” He walks over, plops down and drapes his arm over my shoulder. “So was that a gimmick, or are we really about to get naked?”

I turn my head toward his pierced ear and try to sound seductive as I whisper, “You wish.”

“That I do, baby. That I do. But hey, if we’re not about to have any sexy-time, Ryle and I are gonna bounce. I left my keys on the floor.” He winks and walks toward the door, dangling the key on his pointer finger. Resting his hand on the handle, he turns around in a swift motion. “Do you need a ride tonight Z?” he asks his sister. I assume he’s talking about attending the same party she mentioned a few minutes ago.

I’m in a daze as I try to take in all of this information and remember everyone’s names. Tilting my head up, I make eye contact with the other male in the room. It’s then that I really notice the guy that he called Ryle. In the seconds it takes Taylor to wrap up his convo with Zoe, I rake Ryle over head to toe, with appreciative eyes. He’s tall, but not awkward and gangly. He seems built— not like a jock on steroids—but like a guy who occasionally picks up a set of weights. And by occasionally, I mean like every other day. He looks good. And although his body isn’t painted with art like your typical bad boy, there is a certain sex appeal that oozes off him like hot lava. I wouldn’t mind getting burned— maybe even torched—by his touch.

Something primal rises from inside of me and escapes my pursed lips as I let myself soak in the beauty that is Ryle. Did I just make a noise? My cheeks flush with the realization that I literally just freaking growled like some wild animal. I pray that no one heard me. Maybe it sounded like wimpy little ruff. I sure as hell hope so.

Ryle’s jaw line is tight as he stares blankly back at me. That’s when I realize that he hasn’t said a single word since he and Taylor barged in.

“What’s with him? Is he mute?” I laugh at my cleverness, knowing that Zoe used almost the same line on me. I wait for someone to answer, but no one pipes up. Silence lingers in the room, and by the shocked expressions on their faces, I understand I’ve made some sort of mistake. Hey, it’s barely my fault. I was just trying to keep up.

This isn’t the time or place. That’s evident.

Face palm.

His voice is edgy and impersonal as he speaks. “Like he said, I’m Ryle.”

Punch to the gut.

I knew someone as beautiful as him has to have one major flaw. Unfortunately, his is his lack of personality.

Taylor chimes in, “Don’t be a douche.” He nudges Ryle’s side playfully, which I’m sure is a silent bro gesture-type thing. “Ryle’s not a people person, as you can clearly tell.”

“So what’s that make you, an alien?” Another lame joke slips past my lips, and I cringe a little on the inside at my lack of filter.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be, baby.” Taylor interjects with a wink. It doesn’t make me want to hurl, as that sort of lameness usually does. I’ve heard more pick-up lines from immature dudes than I care to admit— after all, I did attend public school. But Taylor’s words don’t make me want to punch him the gonads. I guess because I know he’s joking. It actually puts me at ease, and oddly, I feel comfortable with him even if he’s a horrible flirt.

Just like Zoe, I think her brother will grow on me. Smiling at him, I silently thank him for coming to my rescue.

The faint sound of Ryle blowing out an exasperated breath catches my attention. His broad shoulders move as he reaches forward and extends his hand. I can tell, like Taylor, introductions aren’t really his thing, but I reach toward Ryle’s outstretched hand, knowing he’s only doing it because he feels like he has to. My excuse is because I want to touch him. As our hands meet in a warm clasp, an electrifying shudder reverberates through me and causes my body to ignite in flames.

“Alright let’s roll.” Taylor’s words interrupt the strangest moment I’ve ever experienced. “I’ll pick you up later, Z. Don’t make me wait. And you,” Taylor points in my direction. “Make sure you’re ready, because you’re my arm candy tonight.” With a sly wink, he heads toward the door. Ryle follows suit without as much as a goodbye.

Figures.

The thump of Ryle’s heartbeat could be felt all the way in his throat. The steady rhythm beat in a way that made a glare form on his face with each wallop. He knew this feeling all too well. He was familiar with the want and need that an attractive woman made him feel, and pushed it aside brashly, knowing that sex was never just sex.

Ryle pulled at the collar of the jersey that suddenly felt more like a noose than a simple piece of cloth. The girl in front of him was so damn gorgeous, he couldn’t even fathom how God would do something as cruel as to dangle her in front of him, when he’d rather saw off his left testicle than to subject any woman to his demons.

As he stood only inches from the dorm room doorway, he debated backing away and jetting. Fleeing the presence of this unpleasant situation was best. Oddly enough, he was able to stand calmly by, while his idiot friend tried to make small talk with his sister’s new bunk-buddy. Ryle knew he was a master at playing it cool, so he simply did what he knew best.

He craned his neck to the side, straining to make eye contact with someone other than her. He thought that if she wasn’t in his line of vision, he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her. Ryle was dead wrong. The girl was a master temptress. She caught his gaze and didn’t let go. He was captivated by blonde hair that looked a tad distressed and tangled, resting on the top of her head in a loose knot. The way she stared so blatantly at him as if she had no modesty, caught him off-guard. Her stare made him feel exposed and under scrutiny, and that was a feeling that he wasn’t used to.

Not only did this peculiar exchange cause him to question his willpower, it also reminded him of when he’d last gotten laid. It apparently had been too long, because he couldn’t even recall the last time. He was absolutely famished, but was well aware that it wasn’t food he craved.
I’m pathetic,
he thought to himself, as he shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable in his own skin.

The tip of his Converse-covered toe hit a bag on the floor. He knew it contained
her
stuff— Adaley’s belongings from home. He didn’t have to say her name out loud. Just the sound of it replaying in his head was sexy enough.

And the fact that he found her sexy was dangerous in and of itself. For females, sex came along with feelings of romantic notions, and that’s the part that made him freeze. A relationship was his get-out-free clause. Going into any mutual sexual “friendship,” he always made it clear where he drew the line. Still, love and lust always blend. Line or not, feelings always fuck things up.

Clearing his throat, he let himself think about wrapping his hand around her hair and tugging. He wondered what she would do. Would she protest, or would she be willing to endure the pain? The thought alone made him shift his position once again.

This was so wrong.

He silently cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to wonder to that forbidden place. Knowing you couldn’t have the one thing that you desired more than anything was pure torture, and he wasn’t willing to risk the chance of anyone falling in love with him again.

To Ryle Benson, torture had become his middle name.

I
came here to be bad— to find my inner diva and let my hair down. If Taylor wants me to be his arm candy, I need to shower. I inconspicuously sniff my armpit.
Yes ma’am.
I so need to drench myself in some H2O, although, I’m positive the water won’t wash away the giddy feeling that is stirring in my gut.

My first college party.

My first
real
party where there weren’t adults chaperoning from afar, watching your every move like a nun.

Zoe snags my arm as I pass by her bed. “Ryle’s off limits.” She cautions.

Her words catch me off guard. Why would she feel the need to warn me? It’s not like he showed me any interest. “Is he married? A drug lord? Does he have the clap?” Questions fly out of my mouth faster than my filter can keep up.

“Ha-ha. No way. I doubt that boy will ever get married. And he wouldn’t touch drugs. He might have the clap. I don’t know.” She struggles to keep the smile off her face.

I can feel my nose bunching together with curiosity. “Explain.”

“Ryle is just…well, he’s just a dick.”

“Ah. I get it. You have a thing for him. I’ll back off.” As soon as the words pass my lips, a sudden, unexpected sting settles in my heart. Go figure. The first bad boy I meet is shacking up with my roomie.

“Hell no! He’s my brother’s friend. Why? I have no flipping clue, if we’re being honest. Tank is a total jokester half the time, and Ryle is like an old brooding soul. He’s mostly a loner, and he’s always a pleasure to be around.
Kidding.
I just meant that he’s emotionally off limits. I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend, and not to be all judgey on you Adaley, but you totally seem like the girl who wants to tame the player. You’ll get cut in the process. I’ve seen it time and time again.”

“You’ve pegged me wrong again, dear.” I hold onto a towel, clutching it in my hands. “I could already tell he’s far from the definition of Prince Charming. It’s a good thing I tossed the dream for a happily ever after out the window on my way into town. Now get ready, because tonight is going to get crazy!” I pray I can hang with the big dogs, because the way I’m talking myself up makes it seem like I’m one hell of a partier.

“I saw you yawning earlier. Are you sure you have it in you?”

She’s testing me.

“I’m game for whatever.”

The sound of amusement follows me to the bathroom.

I’m thankful we have our own shower. I don’t even mind that the stall is so small I can barely reach down to shave my legs. I know what happens in coed showers. Not first hand, but I did some pretty extensive research on college life before I left home, and standing in a confined place where someone just did the dirty, isn’t ideal. That’s how I learned about the clap.

Nasty.

Lukewarm water cascades down my body as I rinse away the stench of my car ride. The smell of apple shampoo lingers in the air. It reminds me of home. As happy as I am to be gone and to have the chance to experience new things, I still miss home.

I’ve got to look super hot tonight
, I think as I turn the knob off, wrap a towel around my body, and lean forward to run both hands through my long, blonde locks. The party is a welcome distraction.