Table of Contents
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
DEDICATION
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
SUPPORT CONTACT DETAILS
CRUEL INTENTIONS (Rydeville Elite #1) – Sample
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY SIOBHAN DAVIS
COPYRIGHT
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
While you do not need to have read the previous books in this series to enjoy Reforming Kent, it is recommended you start at the beginning to have a greater understanding of the Kennedy Boys world and to avoid spoilers to the earlier books contained within this book. However, you can read it as a stand-alone romance if you prefer as it focuses on a brand-new couple with a HEA. For readers who are following the series, this book picks up directly from the end of Adoring Keaton.
This is an angsty, emotional romance with some dark themes that may be triggering for certain readers. I cannot be more descriptive without spoiling the story. If you are concerned about a specific trigger, please email me – [email protected]
I hope you enjoy the final book in the series.
DEDICATION
For my loyal readers. Thank you for patiently waiting for Kent’s story, and I hope I have done him justice. This book would not exist without your love and enthusiasm for all things Kennedy! Thank you for your amazing support.
Prologue
Kent
“Hey, you!” I barely lift my head, clicking my fingers in the direction of the bartender. I slam my empty glass down on the counter. “Another whiskey.”
Footsteps approach, and I raise my head fully, blinking repeatedly in an effort to focus on the blur in front of me.
“I think you’ve had enough,” a sultry, female voice says, sending shivers of awareness cascading down my spine.
“Where’s Ford?” I ask, still struggling to see clearly. “He always looks after me.”
“Unlucky for you, Ford went home. I’m behind the bar now, and I’m saying you’re done.”
Fumbling in my pockets, I extract my wallet and slap a hundred-dollar bill down on the counter. I slide it toward her. “I’m saying I’m not. Get me a whiskey, and you can keep the change.”
She pushes the money back at me, folding her arms across her chest.
My vision solidifies, and I stare at her awesome rack. She’s wearing a plain black T-shirt, but it’s tight, highlighting the generous swells of her tits.
“Your money’s no good here, Kennedy, and stop staring at my tits.”
My lips curl into a seductive smile of their own volition. “Your tits are awesome,” I say, examining her gorgeous face for the first time.
She has beautiful big brown eyes, full lips, high cheekbones, and thick, long lashes that are the real deal. None of that fake spidery shit for this girl. My eyes roam appreciatively over the rest of her. Ink adorns the inside of both her lower arms, and there’s a hint of a tattoo peeking out from the top of her shirt. Leaning forward, I peruse the rest of her body, really liking what I see. She’s wearing a short leather miniskirt with scuffed biker boots, and she’s rocking an incredible body, one I want to get acquainted with.
My dick turns to steel behind my jeans, and I lick my lips as I meet her disgusted gaze full-on.
It doesn’t deter me.
It only spurs me on.
“You’re hot, and I’m horny. A perfect combination.” I stand, gripping the edge of the counter when I sway a little. Straightening up, I tower over her, flashing her the grin that makes countless women drop to their knees. “How about you bend over the counter and I rock your world, baby.”
She laughs. “Holy shit. Does that crap really work on women?”
“All the fucking time,” I truthfully admit.
Her arm darts out, and she grabs a fistful of my shirt, yanking me toward her.
Hell yeah.
That’s more like it.
“Word to the wise, Kennedy. That shit won’t work on me. You won’t work on me. Quit while you’re ahead.” She lets me go, stepping back. “And you’re cut off. Go home.”
This woman doesn’t realize it, but she’s just thrown down the gauntlet. I cannot remember the last time a woman rejected me, and my blood is ON. FIRE. “What’s your name, beautiful?” I ask, undeterred.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re drunk, Kennedy. Go home. Trust me, it’s in your best interest. This isn’t the type of place you should be hanging around anyway.”
“I like it here,” I reply. “Even more now that I’ve met you.”
She shakes her head while drying a few glasses. “Not happening, Kennedy. And if you won’t go home, I’ll have Bugger throw you out.”
“Bugger?” I ask, frowning.
She points over my head. “That big motherfucker at the door. One whistle, and he’ll haul your ass outside.”
“I’ll leave,” I say, leaning my elbows on the counter. “On one condition.”
Her lips twitch as she rolls her eyes again. “It’s cute you think you hold any bargaining power here. I’m the bar manager on duty, and what I say goes.”
“Your name,” I say. “Just tell me your name, and I’ll leave with no trouble.”
“Why the hell does it matter?” she asks, placing the dry glasses on the shelf behind her head.
“Because I want to know.”
She smirks, leaning her elbows on the counter so we’re face to face with barely any distance between us. “And I bet you always get what you want. Am I right?”
I shrug, flashing her another one of my trademark smiles.
I get no reaction.
Not even a flinch or a blink of her eye.
“Just tell me your name.”
She straightens up. “No.” She grabs a cloth, wiping down the counter. “Go home, Kennedy. I won’t tell you again.”
“Pres, is this guy bothering you?” a gruff voice says from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s Bugger, and he’s even bigger in the flesh. But I’m not worried. I’ve got enough shit flowing through my veins to be completely unconcerned.
I grin, straig
htening up. “Pres?” I arch a brow at her in question.
“Presley. You need me to kick this asshole out?” Bugger asks, telling me exactly what I want to know.
Presley groans, pursing her lips. “I have it handled. Get back to the door.”
He shuffles off, and I stand there grinning like a loon. “Presley. I like it. Were your parents big Elvis fans or something?”
She rolls her eyes again, and if she keeps doing it, she’ll give herself eye strain. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times.” She leans into me again, and I silently fist pump the air when her gaze rakes me from head to toe.
She might feign disinterest, but I know when a broad wants me, and Presley wants every inch of this body. “Liking what you see, babe?”
She snorts. “How original. You got my name. Now, be a man of your word. And leave.”
I grab my jacket from the back of the bar stool. “I’ll go, but this isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, Presley baby.” I blow her a kiss and walk off.
And for the first time in a long time, something, or someone, has pulled my head out from under the black hole I’ve been living in.
Presley thinks she’s immune to my charms.
I can’t wait to prove her wrong.
CHAPTER ONE
Kent - Year 1 of Law School (March)
“I’d rather boil my balls than sit through another one of those lectures,” my buddy Lance says as we exit the old-fashioned gray-brick building after our property law class.
“Just do what I do.” I shrug, gripping the strap of my book bag as we make our way through campus toward our next class. Most of the nineteen Harvard Law buildings are situated on the northwest corner of Harvard Yard, which means walking time is short.
“Not all of us can get away with sleeping through classes, when we show up that is”—he arches a brow—“and putting in minimal studying time and still graduate in the top ten percent.”
I shoulder check him. “Envy is not a good look for you.” And I’m the last person he should be envying or emulating. “And that was the old me. I haven’t missed any classes since the start of the year.” Honestly, it’s a miracle I graduated with my business degree at all. I’m lucky I have an uncanny ability to remember stuff and a decent level of intelligence. I generally only have to read something once to understand it and retain the knowledge.
“You sleep through every property law lecture,” Lance reminds me, grinning at two girls as we pass by them.
“Only because it bores me to unconsciousness. And I always download the course notes and study them so I don’t fall behind.” In some ways, it feels like I’ve sleepwalked through my entire college life so far. A lot of it is a blur. Especially the past couple of years because things got fucked up again after all that shit went down with one of my triplets. Keaton coming out messed me up. Just as I felt I was emerging from the dark haze I’d been living in.
Now he’s getting married, and I know I’m going to be forced to confront this head-on. Only it’s not cut and dry. And I can’t go back there again. The nightmares and flashbacks had been fading, but now they lay siege to me again, almost as bad as it was in the immediate aftermath. It’s why I spent all weekend drowning my sorrows.
It’s not my brother’s fault. It never has been. But I can’t help how I feel. Even if how I feel is unfair to Keaton and Austen. I just don’t see how I will ever come to terms with it—with them. I legit feel ill every time I think of them together like that.
It’s driven a huge divide in the family, and apart from my parents along with Eva and Kade and Keanu and Sel, I don’t see much of the others anymore. I’m closest with my other triplet, Keanu, and I only see Kade because of my friendship with his wife. If it wasn’t for Eva, I wouldn’t visit Kade because he hasn’t hidden the fact he has disapproved of me for years.
“Dude. We’re here.” Lance tugs on my elbow, pulling me to a stop outside the entrance to Pound Hall.
I snap out of my head, grinning as we stride toward the door. “My favorite building,” I joke, and it’s got nothing to do with the stylish glass and gray-brick façade and everything to do with my immature humor.
***
“You coming to the WCC for lunch?” Lance asks as we pile out of the classroom after our criminal law lecture has ended.
I nod, following my fellow students out the door. “I’ll grab a quick bite before the library.”
We enter the dining hall a few minutes later, joining the line. A shrill whistle rings out, and I jerk my head to the left, nodding at Topher. He’s bagged a table near the window, and he and Mitch are already sitting and chowing down. Lance accepts a heaped plate of creamy pasta from the server, and I stick with two chicken breasts and a generous serving of vegetables.
“Your lunch is almost as boring as property law,” Lance says as we make our way through the crowded room toward our friends.
I poke his fleshy abs. “Tell that to your jelly belly.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re just figuring that out?” I ask, abruptly holding my tray aloft when I spot the tiny little thing barreling toward me.
She slams into me, but she’s so tiny I scarcely feel the impact. “Ohmigawd.” The petite blonde blushes, straining her neck as she stares up at me. I’m six foot three, and she’s like five feet nothing, so she barely reaches my chest. She looks so young, and if we weren’t in a Harvard dining hall, I’d question if she’s even legal. Her blush deepens, and she’s looking at me with these big googly eyes, being obvious in the extreme. I might be tempted if she didn’t look like jailbait and I wasn’t irritatingly fixated on a fiery brunette with killer curves and a potty mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Kent,” she squeals, placing her hand on my stomach. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
I hate how everyone knows me, but it’s par for the course when you’re a Kennedy because everyone knows who my family is.
Welcome to my fucked-up world.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” I grunt, removing her hands from my body.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and her cheeks are fire-engine red when she speaks. “I have a free hour,” she blurts. “And I booked a study room upstairs.”
“Good for you, sweetheart.” I move to walk away, and she grabs my arm.
“You could join me?”
I should take pity on her, because her face is on fire, but I’m not the good guy in this scenario. Lance is shaking his head at me, but I ignore him, fixing a neutral expression on my face. “To study?”
“No. To…to, you know.” Even her ears are red at this point.
I lean down, putting my face all up in hers. “Use your words, baby.”
“To fuck,” she blurts, cringing when it comes out loud. A few titters ring out around us, and she’s so red now I half-expect her to burst into flames.
Unfolding to my full height, I literally look down my nose at her. “I don’t fuck kids.”
“I’m not a kid,” she pouts, placing her hands on her hips, attempting to glare at me. “I’m nineteen.”
“I prefer my women like fine wine. Aged and full-bodied. Now run along back to the playground, toots.”
Her hands ball into fists, and I almost want her to hit me, but she storms off, taking her red face with her.
“I rest my case,” Lance says, rolling his eyes.
“Not my fault she didn’t get the memo I’m an asshole,” I say as we reach our table. Considering she knows who I am, I’m guessing she got the memo but didn’t care. I find most women don’t, which is really pathetic.
“You got a fever or something?” Mitch asks, stretching his arm toward me, his hand hovering in front of my forehead.
Dumping my tray on the table, I swat his hand away before dropping into my seat. “She wasn’t doing it for me.”
“She’s female and she’s got a pulse,” Topher adds, leaning back in his chair, eyeing me curiously. “That’s usually all it takes. What
gives?”
I can’t get the woman from the bar out of my head is what gives. But I don’t tell my buddies that because I’m not the sharing-caring type and we’re not close. “I’m turning over a new leaf.” My friends crack up laughing, and my lips turn up at the corners. I flip them the bird. “Motherfucking assholes.”
They drop it, and Mitch starts giving us a blow-by-blow account of the girl he and Toph tag-teamed over the weekend. Did I mention my friends are assholes too?
“Why don’t I ever meet those kinds of girls?” Lance grumbles, shoving another mouthful of coronary-inducing pasta in his mouth.
I elbow him in the ribs, and he almost chokes. “It’s the jelly belly. I’m telling you,” I tease. Truth is, the dude is tall and lanky as a beanpole. I doubt there’s an inch of fat anywhere on his body despite his poor choice of diet.
Mitch flexes his biceps. “You need some guns, man. Chicks dig muscles.”
I scoff. “The only muscle you’re sporting is the one behind your pants, and even that’s not impressive.”
“Spout that shit at Cindy,” Mitch retorts, puffing out his chest. “She loved the muscle in my pants so much she rode it three times.”
“It’s Sandy,” Toph says, emitting a loud burp. “Chick’s name was Sandy.”
“Who cares?” Mitch says, shrugging. “Bitch fucked like a pro. That’s all I give a shit about.”
“How did I end up friends with a bunch of dicks?” Lance asks, finishing his pasta. “It’s no wonder Emma never wanted to come to Boston on weekends.”
“Your ex was too fucking selfish and lazy to make the effort to see you,” Toph replies, leaning his elbows on the table. “Good riddance to the bitch, I say.”
Lance drops his head to the table, and I caution the guys with a stern look. None of us understand it because we don’t do the girlfriend thing. But Lance is a relationship guy, through and through, and he’s heartbroken. Emma was his childhood sweetheart from back home, and he was devastated when she broke things off with him last year. Dude still isn’t over her, and I don’t think he’s even gotten someone else underneath him since.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 1