Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10)

by Siobhan Davis

  “What the hell, Kent?” Presley whispers, shock splayed across her gorgeous face.

  I drag her toward it. “C’mon, babe. It won’t bite.”

  “No.” She digs in her heels, literally and figuratively.

  “You don’t like it?” I ask, playing along.

  “I can’t accept this,” she splutters, thrusting the keys at my chest.

  “Sure, you can. I’m your boyfriend. I’m allowed to buy you gifts.”

  Her eyes widen as her gaze flits between me and the car. Her hand is still scrunched against my chest, the keys digging into my flesh through my shirt. “Flowers or pencils or buying me dinner is fine. But this is too much, Kent. I can’t, I won’t, accept it.”

  “I’ll take it if you don’t want it,” Imogen jokes.

  “Baby.” I grasp her face in my hands, knowing what she needs to hear to stop fighting this. “This is for me as much as for you. I worry about you walking home from here at all hours of the morning. Not being able to pick you up has killed me, and I don’t sleep properly not knowing if you’re safe.” I’ve had exams all week, which means early starts, so I haven’t been able to pick her up after work like usual.

  “You’ve only got two exams left,” she protests.

  “Then I’ll be starting my internship, and I’ll need to be in the office early to make a good impression. I won’t be able to get you during the week.”

  Dan Evans gave me a glowing reference, which secured me an interview with the biggest family law firm in Boston. I already know I want to specialize in family law, specifically in helping protect kids’ rights and fighting for justice for kids the system has failed, so getting experience during my summer breaks will go a long way toward helping get my career off the ground.

  I felt like the interview went well, but this is one occasion where my family name and my reputation are more of a hindrance than a help, so I was pleasantly surprised when they reached out to offer me one of the summer intern positions. I accepted on the spot, and I start next week.

  I peck her lips softly. “Please, babe. Just accept the car. If it makes you feel better, you can treat it like a loan.” Everything is in her name already, but she doesn’t need to be aware of that.

  “You’re crazy,” she says, her gaze lingering on the car, and I know I’ve got her.

  Step one of my “get Presley to move in” plan is in the bag.

  “As a bag of cats,” I agree, nudging her toward the car. “Get in, Presley baby. Slide behind that wheel and tell me you don’t love it.”

  ***

  “I still can’t believe you got me a car,” she says an hour later when we’re in my bedroom, getting undressed for bed. “Or that you talked me into staying here tonight. It makes no sense for me to be here when you’ll be gone all day.”

  I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her naked waist. “It makes sense because I always sleep better when you are in my arms.” True fact. In general, my nightmares have been less regular since Presley entered my life, and I have the best sleep when she’s by my side. There is also another reason, one she’ll be aware of tomorrow, and I hope that step two in my plan will seal the deal.

  “I’m turning into one of those pathetic bitches who lets her boyfriend walk all over her, aren’t I?” she asks, turning in my arms.

  “If that’s true, then I’m one of those pathetic bastards who wants to give his girl the world and will stop at nothing to make her happy.”

  “We can be pathetic together.” She graces me with the biggest smile.

  My heart thuds behind my rib cage because I am such a goner for this girl. One smile, one touch, one secret look, and I’m a mushy pile of goo on the ground. “Can we be horny together too?” I murmur, dragging my teeth down the column of her gorgeous neck. “Because my dick has been hard from the instant you climbed behind that wheel.”

  I’m glad Presley knew how to drive, because I’m the idiot who didn’t think to check. Clay taught her and Chris to drive, apparently, but she’s never had her own car. She was a little hesitant and a lot slow at first while driving Imogen home, but she gained confidence, getting into the swing of things after that, and we coasted all the way to Cambridge.

  “I can get behind that plan.” A naughty glint glimmers in her eye as she pops the button on my jeans and her hand dives beneath my boxers. “Because I’ve been wet from the instant my crazy-ass boyfriend gave me a car.”

  Grabbing the backs of her thighs, I lift her up my body, stalking to the bed and throwing her down. “Strip, and get on all fours,” I command, shoving my jeans and boxers down my legs and stroking my throbbing cock. I kick my clothes away, grab a condom from the nightstand, and roll it on as I watch Presley remove the last of her clothes.

  She gets into position, looking over her shoulder, as I kneel behind her. I plunge two fingers into her pussy, finding her warm and waiting, like always. My palm comes down across her ass in a firm smack, and she moans. The sound of it has precum leaking from my crown, and I’m not into teasing either of us tonight. I slap her ass a couple more times, pleased when slick liquid drips from her cunt, confirming how much she loves this.

  Sex with Presley is out of this world, and I can’t get enough.

  Grabbing the base of my cock, I position myself at her entrance and thrust inside her.

  Presley screams while I fuck her hard. As I pound inside her, feeling her tight walls hug my cock, I know I want to keep on doing this for as long as she’s willing to let me. Because nothing has ever felt this good—or this right.

  I wake the next morning to the sound of my alarm, automatically rolling over in the bed to snuggle my woman, only to find the bed empty and the sheets cold. “What the fuck?” I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes and fighting a yawn. It’s a little after eight, but we only fell asleep sometime around three, so there is no reason Presley should be up already.

  I take a piss and brush my teeth before pulling a pair of sweats on and wandering downstairs in search of my missing woman.

  Delicious scents reach me when I step foot on the last stair, making my tummy rumble and my nostrils twitch with longing. Selena and Keanu returned to Wellesley last week, content now Presley and I are back on track, so I know the only one cooking can be my girl. Knowing she got up to cook for me, before I leave to take my exam, only makes me adore her more.

  I pad through the living room, my heart beating to a new rhythm when I spot Presley at the stove, wearing my shirt—just my shirt—and dancing to whatever song is playing in her ears.

  I creep up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist, chuckling when she screams in fright. She yanks my AirPods from her ears, digging her elbow back into my stomach. “Oh my fucking God, Kent! You just gave me a heart attack!” she screeches, rubbing a hand along her chest, and I smirk.

  “Now you know what it feels like to wake up and discover you’re not there.”

  She prods her finger in my chest. “You’re not going to sweet-talk your way out of this one. Seriously, don’t creep up on me like that. It’s…creepy.”

  I grab her shirt, reeling her into my arms. “Sorry for scaring you.” I rub my nose against hers, fighting a smile.

  “No, you’re not.” She fake pouts.

  Sliding my hand up under her shirt, I flatten my palm against her ass. “I could get used to this.”

  She arches a brow in question.

  “You wearing my clothes, in my kitchen, our kitchen, sharing breakfast”—I back her up against the counter—“going about our day and then meeting back here for dinner before crawling into bed and fucking all night long.” I dot kisses all over her beautiful face, and my dick thickens behind my sweats.

  “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. You can’t pressure me.” She gently pushes my shoulders. “I’ll spend some extra nights here now I have the car, but please don’t pressure me into moving in until I’m ready.”

  I take a step back, adjusting myself in my sweatpants, sighing while I
try to summon patience from somewhere. “I’ll try to be patient, but it’s not really my thing.”

  “You don’t say,” she teases, leaning in to kiss me. “You’re something else, Kent Kennedy,” she murmurs against my lips.

  “Too much to handle?” I ask, only half-teasing as nerves fire at me.

  “Never.” She kisses me again, pouring reassurance down my throat. “Just ease off a little. Okay?”

  Reluctantly, I nod.

  “Good. Now breakfast isn’t quite ready, so go grab a shower and get fully dressed, and I’ll plate it up when you come back.”

  Like a good little soldier, I do as she says. When I return, she has the table set with plates full of bacon, two different types of eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, potatoes, and toast. She pours coffee into two mugs, gesturing me to sit down.

  “Wow. This looks amazing. You didn’t need to go to this much trouble. I could’ve grabbed something at the dining hall.”

  “I know.” She cups my cheek. “But I wanted to cook you breakfast before your exam, and I made lunch for you and the guys.” I look over my shoulder, spotting four paper bags on the counter.

  “You’re spoiling me.” I pull her in for a passionate kiss.

  “Not as much as you spoil me,” she murmurs over my lips. She pushes me away a couple of minutes later. “Eat before it goes cold.”

  After breakfast, I drag her upstairs, stopping outside the guest bedroom before turning around to face her. “So, I did a thing.” I rub the back of my neck, a sudden attack of nerves twisting my stomach into knots. “Please don’t see this as pressure,” I say even though it is totally part of my devious plan to get her to move in with me. “I wanted to give you this. For your art.” I turn the handle on the door, opening it and stepping aside to let her enter.

  She walks into the room as if in a daze, her head spinning left and right as she struggles to take it all in.

  “Mom helped me,” I explain. “She came here a few days while I was taking exams and oversaw the remodel.” Presley is always drawing or doing something crafty, and the idea came to me one night last week when I watched her make a new pressed-flower picture in her tiny kitchen. She deserves to have her own space where she can draw, paint, or create whatever art she wants, so I’ve transformed the unused guest room into an art studio for her.

  We replaced the smaller window at the back with two much larger windows, opening up the room so it’s brighter and Presley has a gorgeous view of the beautiful city in the distance. A long counter with a deep sink runs the length of the room on the other side with various shelves overhead and cupboards underneath. On the other side is a drafting table and chair, but other than that, the room is largely empty. The walls are completely bare so she can create a mural, hang her artwork, or tack things to it.

  Mom knows a guy who makes handcrafted easels, so I bought a few in different sizes along with canvases, sketch pads, paints, pencils, and a whole heap of other things the girl in the art store suggested. I even purchased a tattoo kit, so she can practice, with a machine, bottles of ink, cups, assorted tips and needles, and raw leather to ink on. I have a feeling, with a space to call her own, Presley will discover other arty things she likes.

  “I didn’t want to add too much because it’s your space and you can decorate it however you want, so if you need anything added, just let me know and I can get the workmen to come back,” I say, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets.

  “Kent.” She spins around on her heels, staring at me through glassy eyes. “You did all this for me?”

  I nod because who the fuck else would I do it for?

  “Oh my God.” Her lower lip wobbles as she races toward me, flinging herself into my arms. “I don’t know what to say.” She’s full-on crying now, and I’m starting to worry.

  “Babe,” I croak out over the lump in my throat. “These are happy tears, right?”

  “Yes.” She laughs, brushing at the dampness on her cheeks. “I’m so happy right now my heart feels like it could burst.” She kisses me hard on the lips. “How did I get so lucky to meet you?” She peppers my face with kisses. “How are you so perfect for me?”

  “Stop stealing all my lines,” I quip, unused to such blatant displays of emotion.

  She straightens up, peering adoringly at my face, and my heart might as well just leap out of my chest and into her hand because this woman owns me. Body, heart, and soul. The realization I love her almost knocks me off my feet. How the fuck did this happen, and why aren’t I more freaked out?

  “Kent.” She holds my face, bringing me back into the moment. “Thank you. This is incredible. I don’t know what more to say.”

  “Say you’ll be here when I get home.”

  “I’ll be here. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

  I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, wanting to bottle this feeling, so I can always feel it, because Presley makes me feel whole in a way I have never felt in my life, and I never want to lose her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Kent

  Another couple of weeks pass, and Presley still won’t agree to move in permanently even though she is here at least half the week.

  I’ve started my internship, and it’s going well so far. There are six other summer interns, and four of them are okay. The exceptions are Tracy—because she seems determined to dig her claws into me even though I’ve told her repeatedly I have a serious girlfriend—and Rory, who hates my guts purely because of my last name.

  Whatever.

  I’m keeping out of intern drama, focusing on the work because I want to make an impression, and doing my best to ignore all distractions.

  “Babe,” I call out, entering our bedroom. “Are you ready yet? We need to leave, or we’ll be late.” I watch in amusement as Presley struggles to get into her skinny ripped jeans, grimacing as she slowly tugs the denim up her long legs, the action looking almost painful.

  “We have to stop eating out,” she huffs when she finally gets them on. “Or I won’t fit into any of my clothes.”

  I stride toward her, pulling her into my arms, pinning her with a wolfish grin. “You’re perfect, and any extra calories you consume we more than work off in the bedroom or the gym.”

  I can’t keep my hands off my woman, and the feeling seems mutual. Having sex on tap is definitely an added benefit of having a steady girlfriend, but there are so many other things I love about being in a committed relationship—like how those dark parts within me have retreated, pushed down by the happiness that now exudes from my every pore. Or how amazing it is to just exist with my girlfriend. You can’t put a price on having someone to call when there are highs and lows. When something good happens, Presley is the first person I want to tell. Similarly, she’s the only one I want to lean on when things are shitty and I’m having a bad day.

  Presley has altered my world in immeasurable, indefinable ways, and we’ve only just begun.

  “I have only been to the gym twice this week,” she grumbles, gripping my waist. “It’s not cutting it.”

  The gym I use isn’t a part of the Harvard campus, but it’s situated right beside my college, so I was able to sign Presley up for a membership. When our schedules permit it, we work out together. Toph and Mitch are members there too, and they ripped me a new one when they spotted us working out together the first time. Let’s just say my friends can’t believe my transformation from asshole bad boy to dedicated boyfriend, and they never waste an opportunity to remind me I’m pussy-whipped. Presley isn’t sure what to make of the guys, and it’s just as well I’m not that close to them.

  I nip at her earlobe. “Guess we’ll just have to have more sex.”

  She rolls her eyes, gently pushing me away. She plops down on the edge of the bed to pull her boots on. “If we have any more sex, we will never leave this bed.”

  I throw myself down on the bed beside her, the motion jostling her as she shoves her feet into her boots. “I have zero issues with that.” I
flash her a cheeky smile, reaching out to thread my fingers in her hair because I need to touch some part of her. Whenever she’s close, I have to touch her. It’s like a compulsion I can’t ignore.

  “You’re such a guy,” she says, standing and walking into the bathroom.

  I follow her, cupping my crotch and smirking as I say, “Last time I checked.”

  She snorts, shaking her head, trying to fight a smile. I lean against the door frame, watching as she stands in front of the mirror to apply makeup to her bare face. “You have to be on your best behavior around the twins.”

  “They will most likely be asleep, and they’re not here now.” My eyes drink her in and my cock springs to life behind my zipper. “You look good enough to eat.” I drop to my knees behind her, biting the inside of her thigh through her jeans.

  She shrieks, glancing over her shoulder at me, not sure if she should be amused or annoyed. “You have a one-track mind.”

  I nuzzle my face in her ass, nipping playfully at her cheeks. “With you, always.”

  “I thought we were going to be late?” She drills me with a smug look.

  Exhaling heavily, I climb to my feet, hating that she’s right. Sliding my arm around her waist, I rest my chin on her shoulder, staring at her through the mirror. “Always raining on my parade.”

  She giggles, and I adore how her entire face just lights up. She is so beautiful, breathtakingly so, but it’s her inner beauty that really shines through, making her stand out above the crowd.

  Is it cheesy to say she just glows?

  Because she fucking does.

  I stare at her like a lovesick teenager. I still haven’t plucked up the courage to tell her I love her, but I hope she knows by the way I look at her and the things I do to show her in other ways.

  She turns to face me, her eyes wide and full of love, opening and closing her mouth as if she was going to say something but thought better of it.

  “What is it?” I ask, pressing my body in closer to hers.