Bad For You: (An Older Brother's Best Friend Romance)
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Authors: Charity Ferrell
Bad For You
Charity Ferrell
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Charity Ferrell
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Cover: Mayhem
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This book is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, places, and incidents are either
product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Take my advice. Never
fall for your brother’s best friend.
Bracken Casey.
Our hometown’s playboy. My
brother’s best friend. The man I love.
He doesn’t do girlfriends.
He doesn’t do commitments.
And he doesn’t see me as
anything more than his best friend’s little sister.
Until one night changes
everything.
A drunken kiss leads to a
drunken screw.
Now he can’t keep his
hands off of me, and I can’t say no.
Rules are set: No one can
find out. It can’t lead anywhere.
But rules were always
meant to be broken.
And that’s exactly what we
are doing. Breaking them all.
Something bad is bound
to happen.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he
says, the words strained as they fall from his lips.
His mouth might be
saying one thing, but his actions are giving me another story as he slowly
slides his cock inside of me. Heat rips through my blood with his first hard
thrust.
“I know,” I
whisper. “But nobody has to know.” I hold back my grin, but I’m mentally
throwing my hands up in victory. This is what I’ve wanted for years, what I’ve
begged for, and it’s finally happening. Holy shit.
Is this a
one-night stand? I sure hope not, but I’m too terrified to ask.
I peek up at him. His
thick lips are parted, his eyes hungry, as he pounds in and out of me with
force.
This man.
This fucking
man.
He’s my obsession.
And me? I’m a
foolish girl.
Like so many
tragic, lovesick yuppies before me, I’ve fallen for a man I can’t have. I knew before
his soft lips grazed mine, before I fell in his bed, and before I allowed him
to touch and taste every inch of me that he’d never be mine.
But that didn’t
stop me.
Take my advice.
Never fall for
your brother’s best friend.
nautica
“You better have a good as
fuck explanation why you’re here.”
Oh shit.
Even in the
rambunctious, college-coed filled bar, there’s no mistaking who the deep husky
voice behind me belongs to. That voice – it’s haunted me for years, took
too many parts in my self-induced orgasms, and ruined every chance of me loving
another man.
The cash in
my hand drops down onto the sticky bar in what seems like slow motion.
Thud.
I can hear my pulse thrashing against my ears.
Thud.
Out of all
places, out of every damn bar on campus, he has to show up at this one. Go
fucking figure. There goes my night of craziness before I head home for the
holidays.
The bartender
slides my drink in front of me, scoops up the fallen cash, and meanders off to
help his next customer, leaving me in dread. I stay frozen in place, debating
whether or not to hop over the bar and make a run for it.
I take a pass
on that idea. He’ll chase after me, and my embarrassing high school track
record tells me I’ll lose.
“Nautica,” he
barks, causing me to jump. “Turn your ass around and look at me before I toss
you over my shoulder and drag you out of here.”
He’s not
bluffing, either. He’ll do it, and he’ll most likely make a scene of it to
teach me a lesson.
I take a long
gulp of my too-strong drink to gain some liquid courage and slowly pivot around
in my high-heeled booties. I yelp as the vodka soda is ripped from my hand. He
lifts it to his smirking lips and chugs it down, tauntingly.
Asshole.
“What the fuck?”
I snap, gaining the attention of the crowd around us. “Rude much?” I make a
grab for my now-empty glass, but fall short when he holds it higher than my
five-foot-three frame. The jackass has a good eight inches on me. “Do you
mind?”
“No, I don’t
fucking mind. This is the last time I’m asking you. What the hell are you doing
here?” His devious blue eyes level down on me, making me even more nervous. He
crosses his arms over his muscular chest and leans back on his heels, waiting
for my reply.
I’m trying my
damnedest to keep up with my pissed-off attitude, but my attraction to him,
mixed with the alcohol flowing through me, is altering my mind.
I lick my
lips. His jet-black hair is slicked back with gel. Not in a geekish way –
more of a ‘I’m trying to look casual but still get girls to drop their panties
in a second’ kind of way. A black, flannel button-up is thrown on over a white
V-neck tee, and his ripped jeans hang low on his hips.
Damn, I
want this man.
I part my
lips, certain I’m going to start salivating at any moment. This is what happens
when you’re around the guy you’ve been obsessing over for years. You pant like
a fucking dog in heat.
Bracken
Casey.
He’s my
brother’s best friend, and the guy who’s been designated my babysitter while
I’m away attending Kansas University. He probably wouldn’t have been given that
job title had my older brother, Simon, known all of the dirty things I want to
do to him in my dorm room.
I ignore the
curious stares pointed our way and gesture to the crowded bar. “What does it
look like I’m doing?” I hiss. “The same damn thing you are. I’m having fun.” I
attempt to squeeze past him. “So if you’ll excuse me while I do.”
He grips my
waist, his nails biting into my skin roughly, and stops me. His sharp gaze
roams to my left side and then to my right. My eyes shoot to the floor, fully
aware of what is coming next.
“Then who the
fuck are you here having fun with?” he questions. “From the looks of it, you
seem like some desperate, naïve chick alone in a bar waiting for some guy to
date rape her.”
My eyes don’t
leave the beer-splattered ground. “Macy,” I lie.
Okay, I
halfway lie.
I did come
here with my best friend, but she ditched me fifteen minutes ago in the arms of
the last guy who bought her a drink to head back to our dorm. She suggested I
call Bracken and ask to crash at his place, or come back in a few hours if I
don’t want to hear her getting screwed.
His chilly fingers
wrap around my chin to pull my head up, forcing me to look at him. “So … where
the fuck is your little roommate then?” He makes an annoying show of looking
around the room.
Shit.
Shit. Shit.
“She uh … had
to run back to our dorm real quick.” I’m not fast on my toes in the lying
department, which is why I was never successful in getting to do illegal shit
in high school. Simon always caught me up when I couldn’t keep my stories
straight.
His lower lip
snarls as his face twists in anger. One thing Bracken Casey isn’t is an idiot.
“She had to
run back to your dorm real quick?” he repeats slowly. “The bitch did it again,
didn’t she? I’m going to strangle her.” I stumble forward as he snags my elbow
and drags me across the room to the back of the bar. “I told you to quit
hanging out with that hoe.”
I had actually
planned on calling and asking him if I could stay at his apartment, but I
hadn’t been ready to call it a night yet. I wanted to enjoy one last drink
before taking a cab back to his place so he wouldn’t know I’d been here.
Unfortunately,
just like my roomie, that plan is long gone.
I jerk out of
his hold. “First off, don’t call my best friend a hoe.”
“She fucking
ditches you non-stop to ride some douchebag’s cock. I’ll call her a hoe and
every other name in the fucking book if I want. I swear to God you’re not
rooming with her next year. I don’t give a shit if you’re stuck with some chick
who eats her boogers and picks her ass. It’s not going to be Macy.”
“She has a
high sexual appetite. Don’t use that against her, or try to act like your
friends,” I snort, “
Or you,
are any better. Just because you have tiny
weasel dicks instead of a vagina doesn’t make you superior.”
For years,
I’ve watched him and my brother recycle girlfriend after girlfriend. Or hook-up
after hook-up, considering they think a committed relationship is the
equivalency of having your balls on a chain.
He laughs,
but his face turns serious. “Now, I can’t speak for my friends, but my cock is
definitely far from being tiny. You must be mistaking me for one of those frat
boys you keep wasting your time with.”
A smile builds
along my lips. “Prove it to me then.”
My words are
bold, clear, and challenging. Excitement trickles up my spine like a lit match
as people dance around us. The mood shifts. I lock my eyes on him, but he averts
his gaze, refusing to look at me.
I fell in
love with this man before I even knew what the word love meant. He stole my
heart the first time I saw him. He was the kid down the street who rode his
bike over on the day we moved in. The box in my hand tumbled to the ground when
he slammed on the brakes and hopped off his bicycle. The heel of his Converse
punched down on the metal kickstand. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his
jeans and came my way with a bright smile on his face. Even at twelve, the boy
was a charmer.
The night of
his graduation party, I’d embarrassingly, and drunkenly confessed my undying
love for him. I snuck out of my house with Macy and we crashed it. He blew me
off, making it crystal clear I was his best friend’s little sister. That was
it. He didn’t and would never see me that way.
I ended the
night weeping in his passenger seat while he took me home, and puked in the
floorboard of his truck as a final goodbye. He snuck me back into my house,
tucked me in, and disappeared like a stranger in the night. We’ve never brought
it up. It’s like it never happened.
“How did you
even get in here?” he asks, choosing to ignore my comment.
He has a
habit of doing that. It pisses me off. I know my flirting annoys him, but I’m a
determined woman. Eventually, I’ll get Bracken to fall for me … or at least
fall into my bed.
“The same way
you did,” I answer. “I walked through the front door.” I groan when he gives me
a hard look. “Fine. My I.D.”
“Your I.D.?” I
nod. “That’s weird, considering your I.D. says you’re only fucking nineteen. I
know this place is strict on checking that shit, too. So spill, Nautica.”
“I have a
fake.”
“And how in
the fuck did you manage to score a fake?”
“That’s none
of your business.”
Macy briefly dated
a guy who hooked us up with them a few months ago. She slept with him a few
times, slipped him twenty bucks, and we took our first trip to the liquor store
twelve hours later.
“It’s
time for you to go.” He grabs my arm again and practically drags me through the
crowd. We stop at a table where his roommate, Jasper, and a few other guys are
crowded around.
“Well, look
who it is. I was wondering where the hell you ran off to,” Jasper says, when he
notices us. “I assumed it was for some pussy. But not
this
off-limits
pussy.” He looks me up and down with a smart-ass grin on his face and laughs
when I flip him off.
Jasper is a
head-full-of-blonde-hair pretty boy. He reminds me of your stereotypical
college guy who plays tennis and spends his daddy’s money on too much booze and
women.
“And who do
we have here?” a drunken voice asks. I look over to the guy sitting next to him
that I don’t recognize. His light hair is shaved short, and a pair of
thick-framed glasses sits on the top of his nose. I cringe at the over-eager
look on his face.
I let out a
grunt when Bracken snags me around the hips and pushes me behind his powerful
body. “Hands off, asshole,” he warns, spit flying from his mouth. His voice
thunders with authority. “She’s my best friend’s little sister. She’s
off-limits, and I mean it.”
“Touch her
and he’ll kick your ass, man,” Jasper says, cutting in. I step out from behind
Bracken and give him a dirty look. “I tried once and was rewarded with a fist
to the face.” He points to his crooked nose. “Almost fucking broke this
beauty.”
“I have to
take her home or … somewhere. I’ll be back in awhile,” Bracken tells
them.
“I can’t go
home for a few hours, or possibly morning,” I say, stopping him.
“Then you can
hang out in my truck until Macy is done getting fucked.”
“Dude, quit
being a fun sucker,” Jasper calls out. “Let her chill out with us for awhile.
You can keep an eye on her here. You think she wants to go home and deal with
that shit?” He signals to the empty stool next to him and then to me. “Sit your
ass down, get a drink, and let’s have some fun.”
I hop on the
bar stool before Bracken has the opportunity to argue and drag me out of here.
Jasper looks over at me and winks.
“Simon
doesn’t hear about this,” Bracken says, taking the seat next to me. “And your
ass is drinking water.”
“Absolutely
not,” I argue.
Jasper jumps
off his stool. “So you don’t get your panties in a bunch, roomie, I’ll get her
a drink,” he tells Bracken. He glances over at me. “Any special requests?”
“Whatever is
fine. I’m not picky,” I answer.
He claps his
hands. “That’a girl. It’s shot time, ladies and gentleman!” He salutes us
before heading over to the bar.
“I take it
you have no place to crash tonight?” Bracken asks me.
“Unless I
want to listen to my best friend get railed, then nope. She called dibs on our
room and suggested I give you a call. I’ve already asked a few other girls on
our floor if I can stay with them, but their rooms are full,” I reply.
“Hate to
break it to you, but our place is, too. I can drop you off at the homeless
shelter a few blocks away. They have fresh sheets and hot meals.”
I smack his
shoulder. “Very funny, asshole.”
He grins, giving
me a view of his straight, white teeth. “So my place it is?”
I nod. “And
I’m getting your bed. Jasper’s bedroom was fucking disgusting the last time I
stayed over. He had condoms,
used
condoms, sitting on his nightstand
only a few inches from my pillow.” I cringe, disgust rising up my throat as I
remember how I dry-heaved at the sight of them. I ended up grabbing a blanket
from Bracken’s room and sleeping over his comforter, trying to do everything in
my power to keep my body from touching anything. “How disgusting is that? The trashcan
was only three steps away. I counted.”
“Oh, quit
being a spoiled princess. Be grateful he was gone and you didn’t have to sleep
on the couch.”
“It probably
would’ve been more sanitary than condom city.”
“I’m not so
sure I can agree with that statement. Jasper has allowed a lot of his friends
to sleep on that thing. Not to mention, he fucks all the girls he doesn’t deem
worthy of his bed on it. Now considering we both know how low his standards
are, which one would you prefer?”