A. Jackson - When We Met

I could almost smell him, all man and grease and sex.

“So what if I was?” he asked, nonchalant, that rough voice tossing the contention out without the slightest hint of shame. He cocked an eyebrow as his eyes made a slow pass down my body.

I almost gasped in relief when he released me from the chains of his stare. Of course, he just dragged his attention right back up, and those searing eyes made me their prisoner again.

“You did look at yourself in the mirror this morning, didn’t you? You can hardly blame me.”

Redness bloomed hot and fast, and I let my hair fall in my face, obstructing the reaction I had to this boy.

Er . . . man or god or whatever he was.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I refused to take his grimy come-on as a compliment.

I wanted to stomp my foot and tell him so. Instead I just stood there with my mouth still hanging open like some kind of blubbering fool.

He pushed himself from his car.

Panic thudded my pulse.

I wasn’t sure I could handle this guy getting any closer than he already was.

His expression shifted again, his head steadily drifting to the side as he approached, like he was doing his best to dig around in my thoughts.

I wasn’t letting him go there. Instead I dug around in myself for courage, lifting my trembling chin as if I were brave instead of the shivering coward I felt like.

“Do you really need an introduction?” I asked with almost a sneer. “Figured you’d already know who I am.” Spitting out those words took up the last of my pride, and I was suddenly feeling like a fraud, saying things like someone I was not. My eyes flew to the ground, and I studied a weed growing up through a crack in the pathway as I said a silent prayer that he didn’t know. Obviously I didn’t want anyone to know, this blight something I wished I could obliterate from history.

But him?

Something inside me twisted. I would do anything to be spared that humiliation.

I peeked up through the veil of my hair when I noticed him gesture behind me. That mischief was back in his eyes, only this time it was lighter, like their potency was no longer a threat. He grinned. “I’m no genius, but based on the fact that you just came out of that house wearing a backpack on the first day of classes, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’re one of my new neighbors.”

He’d turned casual, which was about the last thing I was feeling.

“But do you know my name?” I demanded, my hand curling into a fist at my side.

Do you know my face? was what I was really asking, almost begging him to relieve me of the burden.

“Well, let’s see . . . Kier filled me in on all the neighbors.” He lifted his gaze to the sky, as if he were thinking back to their conversation.

Kier was one of the guys who lived next door, quiet, nice. I’d always liked him. I was close to feeling relieved, because I felt almost positive he wouldn’t divulge my secret.

New guy raised his hand and lifted his index finger. “Chloe.” He held up a second. “Indy.” He continued on, checking off all of us girls. “Misha and Courtney.” A smirk twisted up one side of his mouth. “Guess I’d feel pretty confident betting on the fact that you belong to one of those names.”

Discomfort shifted my feet, and I finally forced my name around the lump this guy had seemed to permanently wedge at the base of my throat. “M-M-Misha.” I tucked an errant curl blowing around in my face behind my ear, my nod shy and unsure. “I’m M-M-Misha. Misha Crosse.”

His eyes narrowed again, studying. Then he shook his head, raking his plump bottom lip between his teeth. He freed it with an easy smile.

Dear Lord.

“Darryn. Darryn Wild.” He stuck his hand out between us. I eyed it warily. Those bells were ringing. Don’t touch. Off-limits. Danger.

But he was smiling this cute smile, and my hand tingled, twitching toward his. What could a handshake hurt?

“Oh, come on, Misha, I know you want to touch me.” This time, he didn’t touch the corner of his mouth but reached out to touch mine.

Shivers raced down my spine and sent something tumbling around in my stomach that I didn’t want to recognize, and I prayed another prayer that the drool he lifted from my face was imaginary, too.

At this point, I wasn’t so sure.

Fantastic. The guys next door had just traded one asshole for another. And to think for a second I’d almost been duped into thinking he was nice.

I didn’t like it, didn’t like thinking this jerk was sleeping in Hunter’s room, didn’t like his things there or his thoughts there or his ripped, muscled body stretched out like Satan’s seduction across that bed.

And I really couldn’t stand the cocky grin that was playing all over one side of his perfect mouth.

But mostly I just hated that he managed to make me feel this way.

One of these days I was going to learn to trust my instincts. I’d had them that night with Hunter, this feeling sparking inside me, alerting me that something was off.

No day like the present.

“You wish,” I spat at him, doing my best to sound intimidating and not like some scared little creature who wanted to find a rock to hide behind.

My eyes made a pass over the yard, wishing that overnight a huge boulder had miraculously been dropped into our yard.

Nope.

No such luck.

He laughed, the sound thick and throaty and arrogant. Part of me wanted to smack him, while the other part wanted to beg him to do it again.

Damn it!

Damn him.

“I wish, huh?” He eyed me up and down. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

I huffed, and he chuckled again.

Refusing to submit myself to his torture any longer, I turned and stomped away, scolding myself under my breath. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I ranted, my lips moving silently as I pounded down the sidewalk toward campus. Mounds of curls bounced angrily around my face as I left Darryn Wild staring behind me. “I hate boys,” I muttered hard. “Jerks. Every last one of them.”

I was so angry he’d managed to make me stutter and stumble all over myself.

It didn’t matter if he was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

No way, not a chance.

I’d been there before.

And I wasn’t about to go there again.

Darryn

I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face as I watched her storm away. Thick, heavy black curls bounced all around her shoulders and down her back, her little hands twisted up in the tightest fists at her sides.

Like a feisty little kitten with a cute button nose and wide curious eyes, skittish and scared and completely naive.

Pretty sure I could have said boo and she would have run.

I chewed at my lip, fighting the grin.

Yeah, I knew her.

Knew her face and her name and that fucking incredible body, all curvy and full and just about the most damned perfect thing I’d ever seen.

Why I lied when she’d asked me such a pointed question, I didn’t know. I knew exactly what she’d been referring to, that video I’d been trying to get off my mind for the last month. But it was like she’d been pleading with those huge, hopeful eyes—brown eyes so dark they were nearly as black as her hair—to spare her, like a lie would be so much easier than the truth.

Or maybe it was because she was nothing like I expected. I expected some raving hot bitch, all sass and sex and mile-long legs, with pouty full lips and vacant black eyes.

What I wasn’t expecting was a girl who blushed so red I was pretty sure she was going to incinerate with just the slightest hint of attention. Didn’t expect a girl who stuttered over her own damned name.

God, I’d just spent the last five minutes being a total ass to her, egging her on, but I couldn’t help it. Every time she blushed, my dick stirred to life and my heart pounded a little too hard, this girl some kind of sweet contradiction, all sexy and shy and so damned adorable I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and never let her go. Couldn’t tell if I wanted to haul her off to snuggle up on the couch or tear all her clothes from her and teach her every dirty trick I knew.

But it became clear really fast.

This girl didn’t do dirty.

For a fleeting second, my eyes shot up to the room I’d rented out when Hunter was canned. Yeah. I knew him, too.

Anger spiked deep in my gut, and I sucked in a breath as I turned back to the curly mane of black stalking away from me, no doubt still cursing my name.

Hunter.

I was hit with the intense need to take the asshole out.

He needed to pay for treating a girl as sweet as Misha the way he had.

Guilt reared its ugly head, sneering at me, reminding me I was just as bad as the rest of them.

How many times had I fantasized about kissing the hell out of that pouty mouth? About my hands palming her hips while she rode me, her hair falling over her shoulders, just brushing over her full tits as I looked up at her while she drove me right out of my mind with pleasure?

Misha peeked back at me, her eyes going wide when she caught me still standing there ogling her as she walked away. For a second I saw her little kitty claws come out, like she was about to make a valiant attempt to protect her sweet little self, before she gave herself over to all the insecurities swimming so visibly in her eyes. But then she just ducked her head and rushed to turn the corner.