Masuk
SKYLAR
“Truth or dare, golden boy.”
That voice. Ugh. It belongs to one of the worst people at Valor State University, and if you guessed “asshole linebacker,” or “walking STD,” you’d be correct.
It belongs to Chris Jerkins. My boyfriend’s best friend. The certified menace of the century.
And the golden boy he’s referring to? That’s Shawn Crawford–VSU’s star running back, my bestie and roommate’s brother, and my boyfriend.
Well. Technically my secret boyfriend, because absolutely no one knows we’re dating.
Eight weeks ago, Shawn got into a massive, brutal, phone-cameras-everywhere fight with Trey Parker, the team’s powerhouse quarterback. The video hit 2 million views in a day.
Now the university PR team has them both on strict media lockdown. With Shawn’s every move being monitored, one headline that says “Star Running Back in Messy New Relationship” and he’s benched, suspended, or worse.
Logically, I get it. But emotionally, it still shreds me. No one likes being treated like a dirty little secret you have to hide under the bleachers. But I love him, and there’s no way I’m the reason he loses everything he’s worked for.
So I play along.
We’re all gathered around a bonfire. And by “all” I mean: Me, sitting directly across from Shawn, pretending it doesn’t kill me that he hasn’t looked my way once since I got here; Shawn; his three idiot friends; my prude of a stepsister; her bimbo friends currently warming the guys’ laps; and like six other people I don’t know.
We’re at a party. The most amazing bonfire party of the semester, according to my bestie, Jade.
I only agreed to come because I was blackmailed. Jade literally threatened to factory-reset my Kindle and permanently wipe my entire 500-book spicy dark romance collection if I spent another Sunday night locked up in the dorm.
That is a crime, and there was absolutely no way I was letting that tragedy happen.
But the real kicker? Minutes after we got here, my so-called bestie ran off with some hot girl and left me completely stranded. Gosh, when I find her, she’s so dead.
People are everywhere. Some grinding to the music, others making out like their lives depend on it. There’s even a beer game where guys are literally drinking off the chest of topless girls.
And out of all the places I could have ended up, I somehow managed to land in this exact line of fire.
When Shawn fails to reply, Chris leans forward–with Natalia draped sideways across his lap–wearing an icky grin that always screams trouble. “Come on, Crawford. Truth or dare? Don’t leave us hanging.”
Jaw tight, Shawn sets his drink down on the grass. “I’m passing, Chris. Unlike you, I actually can’t afford another scandal right now. The athletic board is breathing down–”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Jake cuts in from across the circle, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, Shawn? You’re acting like a total pussy lately. Since when do you back down from a silly party game? You used to actually be fun.”
Wrong. Flipping. Move.
If there’s one thing about Shawn Crawford, it’s that he absolutely loathes having his ego bruised, and he hates backing down from a challenge even more.
I watch his expression shift. His shoulders square. That dark, competitive look coats his handsome features.
“Fine,” he says. “Dare.”
A collective “Ouuu!” bounces through the circle.
When the noise dies down, Chris’s smirk turns predatory. “Perfect. Because a little birdie told me a very interesting rumor recently.” He drags his gaze around the fire. “Word on the street is that our star running back has a secret girlfriend. And according to my source... she’s at this exact party. In this exact circle.”
My heart instantly falls straight to my butt. Oh my god. He knows.
With the warning, dangerous look Shawn is aiming at Chris, anyone with a brain cell would shut up. Not Chris. If anything, he soaks it in, enjoying the fact that everyone else is murmuring, hooked.
“So,” he continues. “here’s your dare, golden boy. I dare you to walk up to this mystery girl right now... and kiss her.”
Cue the pin-drop silent afterwards. My breath lodges itself in my throat and my palms begins to sweat like crazy against my jeans.
When Shawn remains seated, his gaze turning downright murderous as he stares at a relaxed Chris, the rest of the circle gets impatient.
“Do it!” a lanky guy starts, clapping to the beat. “Do it! Do it!”
Within seconds everyone joins in. The chant drowns out the music. “DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!”
Realizing he has no exit strategy without looking like a coward, Shawn snaps and stands. “Fine.”
As he steps off the log and begins walking around the perimeter of the bonfire, my heart thumps so loudly it’s a miracle the two girls on either side of me don’t hear it.
Sheesh. I’m terrified of the chaos this will unleash. I have no idea how the PR department will handle this. But at the same time, I’m psyched. This is it. He’s finally going to claim me. No more hiding.
He gets closer. Three feet. Two feet.
Only… he doesn’t stop. His shadow passes right by my knees and keeps going.
Wait. What?
Why the flipping ducks didn’t he stop?
Blinking rapidly, I watch in paralyzed disbelief as he halts three steps later. Directly in front of Cherry. My stepsister.
Why in the name of Zeus is she already standing? Why is she looking at him like she's been waiting all night for this?
Before I can even formulate more questions, Shawn reaches out, cups the back of her head, and slams his mouth to hers.
Gasps. Shocked shouts. Loud cheers erupts. Even people who weren’t playing have crowded in. But the sound instantly dies in my ears–all I hear is ringing.
No. This isn’t real. The firelight’s definitely playing tricks on my sight.
With wobbly hands, I pull off my round glasses, wipe the lenses on my cardigan, and shove them back on, praying for a different reality.
Prayer falls on deaf ears because I’m greeted with an even worse scene. Shawn’s pulling Cherry flush against his chest, and her claws are roaming his red hair.
Finally, Chris wolf-whistles. “Alright, alright, Crawford! Save some for the dorms!”
That breaks them apart, both panting. Cherry’s cheeks flushes a triumphant pink. Shawn’s face is tight with lingering anger as he glares past her at Chris.
“Not cool, man. You happy now?”
Chris just shrugs and raises his cup. “Game’s a game.”
With a head shake, Shawn turns to leave, but he doesn’t make it far before Cherry grabs his arm, pouting. “Wait, babe, where you going?”
Babe?
Letting out a deep breath, Shawn looks at her and says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna take a piss.”
Then he does the thing that sets my already shattered heart in flames–he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead before walking away into the darkness.
As my vision blurs with tears, I look up in time to see Cherry turn to me, and right there on her perfect face is a faint, smug smirk.
0.2 seconds later, her whole frame disappears as everyone swarms her.
“Oh my god, how long?”
“Is this serious?”
“Tell us everything!”
At that moment, a hot, furious spark replaces my grief–one in demand of answers.
Pushing through the boulder-sized weight in my chest, I stand on shaky legs and march into the dark woods after my ‘boyfriend’.
The thumping bass of the bonfire fades behind me, replaced by crickets and the sound of my own heavy breaths.
Angry tears fog my glasses until they slide down the bridge of my nose. It’s a miracle I even find him—back to me, leaning against an oak tree without a single care in the world.
“What the flip, Shawn?” I choke out, and he jerks, nearly tripping over himself as he spins around and hastily zips up his fly.
“The actual fuck, Skylar!” He drags a hand through his hair in irritation. “You scared the living shit out of me!”
“What was that about, Shawn? Seriously. What the duck was that?”
This dude has the audacity to roll his eyes. “What was what about?”
“You and Cherry! You literally just swallowed her whole in front of the entire campus. Instead of me! I’m your girlfriend, for Pete’s sake. We’ve been dating for two months!”
If the eye roll didn’t break me, the deeply bored, dismissive sigh as he brushes past my shoulder, heading straight back toward the fire, definitely did. “It’s nothing. Don’t think too much about it.”
“Don’t think too much about it?!” I spin after him. “Every flipping soul out there just watched you claim her! She called you babe! You kissed her forehead! So if she’s your girlfriend, what does that make me? A dirty little secret? An embarrassment?”
Shawn stops so fast I almost crash into his back. When he turns, his handsome features twist into a harsh scowl. “Please don’t start, Skylar. This exact dramatic bullshit is why I didn’t choose you.”
"Don't even think about it, sweetheart."Yup.Your ears are not deceiving you. That is precisely what Trey flipping Parker just murmured without a single trace of hesitation.And that is not even the most terrifying part. The absolute worst part of this entire fiasco is that Trey’s eyes are still closed.Yet somehow–as if he possesses some ungodly, supernatural radar specifically calibrated to sense every single one of my chaotic impulses–his large hands shoot out to clamp down around my wrist right at the hem of my shirt–okay maybe, his shirt–before I can even lift it an inch.My eyes round until they rival dinner plates in shock.Then, in slow-motion fashion worthy of a dramatic movie sequence, Trey finally opens his eyes. That signature smirk is firmly plastered across his lips, and his icy blue orbs are completely serene. There is zero trace of his inner beast. No dark, pitch-black hunger. Just pure, infuriating calm.Duuuuck.Knowing how effortlessly he anticipated my move pisses
SKYLAR I have a serious bone to pick with every single person who has ever gotten drunk in the history of the human race. That’s right. If you are among the tens of thousands of people who have ever taken a shot, raised a glass, or passed out on a bathroom floor–hands up! You are under arrest for the heinous crime of gatekeeping, and you have the right to remain silent because– You know what? Duck your rights. You lost all your rights the second you kept this incredible, life-changing magic a secret from me! Why on earth did nobody ever mention that being drunk feels like this?! I feel like I’m on top of the world. I feel bold, uninhibited, and brimming with so much confidence–a feeling I’ve quite literally craved and lacked for my entire twenty-two years of existence. If this were normal, boring, sober Skylar sitting on this motorcycle, there is zero chance I would have been brave enough to pull half the unhinged stunts I’ve executed tonight. I wouldn't have stripped on a stage
Skylar flutters her eyes open, her glasses sitting slightly lopsided on her nose. Arousal clouds her vision right alongside the alcohol. "Hmm? C-can you repeat it?" "I asked what the look I gave you on Friday said, darling. Tell me." "Oh..." Gulping, her chest heaves against my palm. "Umm... from... from what I recall... the look was so evil. It... it gave off the vibe that I was going to... to pay for what I did." Silence immediately descends around us. It most certainly isn’t quiet out here, but to me, it’s dead silent as my muse stares down at me, her breaths shallow and ragged–as if she's waiting for me to make good on that silent promise right now. "And what do you think, sweetheart?” I whisper finally, using my thumb to stroke the underside of her breast. “Do you think I intend on doing that? On making you pay for every single naughty stunt you've pulled?" I already know the answer. It's a definite yes. But I want to hear what she's going to say. "Yes," she says softly. H
There are approximately 540,000 documented kinks in the human psyche. Out of every single one of them, not once in my life did I ever think I possessed a daddy kink. Heck, I didn't think I had a single soft spot in my body. Well... I didn't think so. Until Skylar. There is just something about this girl that systematically dismantles every single belief, boundary, and rule I have ever crafted for myself, and this right here is no fucking exception. Because fuck. With how hard I was three seconds ago, it should be physically impossible for a human body to get any harder without tearing canvas. But the moment that single word purred past her lips, my shaft surged to a stage that is bordering on downright painful. It certainly doesn't help that her hand is actively flexing around my denim, trying to stroke my shaft through my jeans. Fuck. My traitor of a dick is throbbing in gratitude. Despite how hard I beat my meat at The Vault this morning in the bathroom, I still couldn't rea
An irritated sigh pours from my lips as I stop on the pavement. What now? I thought I avoided breaking a jaw inside, but the universe clearly wants a bloodbath. I don't bother turning around, just standing there with Skylar dangling over my shoulder. "Jesse!" Hope fills Skylar’s slurry voice as she gasps. "You actually came to save me?!" "Oh, honey," Jesse's voice purrs from behind us as he saunters into view. "That is quite the opposite of what I came to do, actually." "Huh?" Skylar mumbles. Gliding around to stand in front of me, he wears a flirty, unabashed smirk, raking his eyes slowly down my muscular torso before finally meeting my glare. "Ugh. Hi." I arch an icy brow at him–one that translates to: What the fuck do you want? "Right, sorry about that," He smooths down his patterned shirt. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Jesse. The stylist from Friday at the Apex signing? I gave you that bedazzled outfit and turned your girl over there into a goddess." The reply
TREY I don’t know what my little muse was expecting when she picked Naughty Brats as her grand hideout, but I’ll give her points for creativity. She actually thought she was clever. She genuinely believed that making Michelle take a sharp curve on the highway was enough to shake me off her tail. What she didn't realize was that I let them think they lost me. I dropped my speed just enough to fade into the background, keeping Gigi at a concealed distance while tracking her exact moves. I sat parked in the shadows across the street, watching as Michelle dropped her off near the club entrance before circling around to hide the car. Cute. Truly adorable. I even watched the front door bouncer turn her away after pointing at her chili-stained shirt. I still have a dozen unanswered questions about how she managed to get drenched in chili in the first place–and top of that list is why the fuck she felt the need to snub me and flee like a fugitive. Am I furious about her running game? No







