The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  “I’m glad you and Eli are good again,” she whispered to Henry while everyone else chattered.

  Henry laughed. “It’s taken some time, but we’re getting there. It was one hell of a month though, I’ll tell you that.” Ellie looked at her lap. She’d always feel bad about that, but there was nothing she could do but step back and let their wounds heal. “Ain’t timing a bitch?” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… Eli and I are just now getting back to normal, and here you and I are. About to drive cross country and move to California.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Timing.” It had been her nemesis her entire life it seemed. It wasn’t until the cabin that it seemed to finally be somewhat on her side. She was still a bit scared of it, though.

  “I can’t believe you two are driving,” her mom said. “Ellie’s doctor said she was perfectly capable of flying. I imagine sitting in a car for so long—”

  “It’s not about that,” Ellie said.

  “Oh. It’s about the journey, then?” her mom asked.

  “Wow. Super clichéd, Mom,” Ryan said between bites of the sliders he’d brought.

  “I wish you wouldn’t eat that stuff,” her mom said. She wrinkled her nose. “The sugar, the salt, the meat—”

  “Okay, okay. Lecture me when it’s not Ellie’s farewell shindig,” Ryan said.

  “Aunt Mary made it okay?” Eli asked Henry.

  “Yeah, I just talked to her this morning. I mean, you can’t complain about a first-class ticket and direct flight.”

  “She didn’t have to fly commercial, you know—”

  “Hey, Mr. POTUS. Let us common folk think that first class is as good as it gets.”

  Back at the brownstone, their boxes stacked and waiting for the movers, Ellie couldn’t stop thinking how happy she was. Nobody gets everything they want. That’s what they always tell you, except the fairy tales. She’d always thought every good stroke of luck came at the loss of something else. Ellie had even tried to make trades with the higher powers herself. Give me straight As, and I won’t make the track team. It seemed to work so many times, she was convinced for a while. One night freshman year, she was buzzed with Sam and told her about the theory. “Did you ever think you’re the one making these so-called trades come true?” Sam asked. “I mean, speaking from the whole cognitive aspect of things, our brains are really fucking good at making what we think and believe a reality.” In less than one minute, Sam had brought her whole theory crashing down.

  Ellie had still clung to the thought for years, but now Henry had destroyed the last of it. “What are you staring at?” he asked from across the living room. She was leaned against the window frame, and he had been sifting through one of the boxes to make sure everything was set. “My ass?” he asked, and he wiggled it at her.

  She giggled. “Thank you for making up with Eli,” she said.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not always the center of my universe you know. I had to make up with him, it’s that simple. He’s my closest friend.”

  Ellie walked up behind him and draped her arms around his neck. “I know,” she said. “But I’m happy you did it so quickly. Before we left at least.”

  “I aim to please,” Henry said, folding the box back together.

  “How about a reward?” she asked as she kissed his neck. “For making nice?”

  Henry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I just got cleared,” she continued in a singsong voice. “The doctor says I’m all good for sex.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, and he picked her up for the first time in weeks, but gently. He made sure not to touch her surgery scar and cradled her in his arms.

  “One last christening before you say goodbye to the old abode?” she asked. He set her on the bed. It was already stripped of its sheets.

  “You could say that,” he said. He sat beside her and traced a hand up her bare leg, toyed with the hem of her sundress.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t find renters,” she said. “Had to sell. Henry… I’m so lucky to have you.” His hands unbuttoned the tiny buttons at her chest. Her underwear was pulled to her knees. “Seriously, what did I do to deserve you? Willing to give up everything, move with me—”

  “I didn’t give up anything, kitten,” he said. “I’d go anywhere for you.” He kissed along her collarbone. “Do anything for you…”

  “I know,” Ellie said, and she beamed at him.

  “Speaking of… is there anything I can do for you?” he asked. He nipped lightly at her neck. “To you?”

  “Now that you ask,” Ellie said, and he pushed her onto her back. “I’m kind of disappointed that I’ve been indisposed for so long. This is kind of our last chance to make use of every room in the house…”

  “Every room? You know we’re supposed to drive out of here in six hours.”

  “Six hours is nothing!” she said. “We could do every room twice in six hours.”

  Henry shook his head and feigned frustration. “I know it’s not the best time to bring up his name right now, but Eli was right about you.”

  “What do you mean?” Ellie asked. Curiosity coursed through her. “What did he say?”

  “The first time him and I talked, really talked, while you were still drowsy from surgery? He told me I was in for it because of you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He said you’re a handful,” Henry said with a laugh. “Said you’d have me wrapped around your little finger so tight that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

  “He did not,” she said, and slapped him playfully on the chest.

  “Swear to God,” he said.

  “Oh my God,” Ellie said, suddenly mortified. Eli could be so embarrassing.

  “Hey,” Henry said. “All I’m saying is—he was right.”

  “You know, when you said you’d do anything for me, talking about my brother when you haven’t fucked me in a month isn’t exactly at the top of my list.” He looked at her with lust.

  “My mistake, kitten,” he said, his voice shifted to that sultry tone reserved just for her. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “You can start by getting back to what you were doing,” she said. “We haven’t got all night. Actually, we’re probably down to five hours and fifty-five minutes by now.”

  “Well, then,” he said as he kissed down her chest and opened the top of her dress to reveal that snowy skin, “I guess I’d better get to it.”

  Henry pulled the dress off her shoulders, down her torso, and tossed it on the floor. Knelt between her knees, he began to kiss his way back up. She felt his lips on her calves and across her knees. He worked up the insides of her thighs to her pelvis. There, he paused. Ellie looked up. He eyed the scar. “Is it bad?” she asked. She knew the answer. She’d analyzed that scar every time she got out of the shower for a month. It was a little better now that the sutures had been removed, but there was no denying it. It was a beast of a scar and she’d never be the same again.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said simply.

  “You have to say that,” she protested, embarrassed again. With Henry, since that first time, she’d never thought to have reservations about her body. It was clear every time he looked at her. He just wanted her so much.

  “I don’t have to say anything,” he said, and he kissed the length of her scar from where it began near her hip bone all the way to the apex. When he caught her eye, she could tell. He didn’t look at her any differently. It was still that same intensity he’d always had, and in that moment any worries about the scar disappeared. “But,” he said, “what I do have to do is eat that sweet pussy.”

  “Henry,” she said as he started to work his way down between her legs. Before he even arrived, she had started to arch herself toward him. Would it be different now? After everything?

  As soon as his mouth w
as on her, she knew it was the same. Would always be the same. The only difference now was the guilt was gone. They had complete freedom to be together, to be themselves. “Henry,” she said again. She was going to come fast, it had been too long. She tangled her fingers through his hair to slow him down.

  “No time for taking it easy, kitten,” he murmured from between her thighs. “We’ve got a lot more rooms to get to.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There’s a little bit more of Henry and Ellie, just waiting for you! Get this bonus story FREE — right now — when you sign up for Vivian’s mailing list! Head to https://bookhip.com/XTRPRP for more info.

  Thank you for reading His Best Friend’s Little Sister! I know if you liked this book, you will LOVE Poppy and Ryan’s story, Claiming Her Innocence!

  He’s gonna make sure he’s her first.

  Ryan Scott is big, bad, and he has a body made for sin. When he leaves the SEALs and heads home to D.C., the first person he wants to see is his best friend, Poppy Baker. Just to be around her, of course… nothing funny. Their friendship isn’t like that.

  Except… one look at the beautiful blonde and he starts to question how he never thought of her as more than just a friend before. Ryan likes to imagine how it could be more. It doesn’t hurt anyone if it’s just in his head.

  When Poppy starts to give him that look -- the seductive eyes, the pouty lips, the head cocked just so -- he can’t help but imagine bending her over and taking her right there. How her eyes would close, her breasts would bounce, and the noises she would make…

  Ryan has to get his act together, because that’s his best friend he’s thinking about. They have a long history together and he can’t lose her friendship. He won’t risk it.

  But once Ryan has a taste of Poppy, she’s all he can think about. She’s a walking, talking fantasy… and she’s only a hair breadth away… One wrong move could take what he values most.

  One-click Claiming Her Innocence now!

  Turn the page for a HOT excerpt.

  Claiming Her Innocence

  1

  Ryan

  Nineteen years ago

  He still wasn’t used to this. Last year it had been called recess, and it happened three times each day. But now? Now it was middle school, and they were all supposed to be more grown up, so it was “break” instead of recess and the lunch hour extended a full sixty minutes.

  For the past six years, Ryan had navigated his ideal path to getting through each day. Honing how to spend the fifteen-minute recesses morning and afternoon had taken some time, and filling those thirty-minute lunches had also required some finesse. But still, he’d managed. And now this.

  Someone had figured out that sixth graders still needed some semblance of play. There was a basketball court with weathered balls they could check out. An aging tetherball pole nobody played with any gusto. The track was open during lunch, too. But none of these interested him. It was enough getting through PE without everyone laughing at him.

  Please, make the time move faster. When he checked the clock, the hands moved at an achingly slow speed.

  Everything moved slow in middle school. The two friends he’d cultivated last year were gone—placed in different schools thanks to an arbitrary divide of the city. At least lunchtime no longer required assigned seating in the cafeteria, and that was some kind of freedom. He was hellbent on eating lunch outside away from the judgmental eyes of his peers, for as long as the autumn weather remained somewhat warm.

  Who’s that? A girl with pretty, cascading dark blonde hair and striking green eyes he could make out even from a distance walked through the double doors. She carried a bright orange tray from the cafeteria and glanced around the courtyard like a new and exotic animal dumped in the local city zoo. Why’s she wearing that? With her white turtleneck and long wool pants, Ryan was hot just looking at her. His own thin T-shirt and mesh shorts still had him sweltering.

  The sun demanded he squint. It was an Indian summer, and she was completely out of place. Is she allergic to the sun? She’d circled the courtyard once already, eyed peeled for a vacant seat. He’d already moved his stack of books to the floor. It was clear she could sit next to him, but she avoided his gaze and jumped on a picnic table that opened up when a group of popular girls left. She didn’t seem to care that they’d left their mess behind.

  He sighed and picked up his sad excuse for a slice of pizza. “What you got there?” Ryan stiffened even as the shadow engulfed his plate. School had only been going for two weeks, but the voice was already familiar.

  “Pizza,” Ryan said before he even looked up.

  “Pizza, huh?” Dylan asked with a sneer as he leaned down and picked up the soggy triangle. “Looks more like your mom’s panties, don’t ya think?” Dylan hadn’t been at Ryan’s elementary school, and he was still trying to figure out how best to deflect the bully. Ryan had been used to watching all the other boys in his class shoot past him. He’d gone from average height and build in third grade to nearly the shortest by the time elementary school graduation had rolled around.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan said quietly. The phrase was usually a safe bet.

  “I don’t know,” Dylan mocked him. “I think you do. Shit, you look like the type that checks out his mom’s nasties on the regular.”

  Ryan couldn’t bring himself to look Dylan in the face. The spray of acne across Dylan's cheeks was a constant reminder of this terrifying new world. Some of the boys, Dylan included, already displayed hints of facial hair. They’d pull at the little tufts nonstop throughout every class. When Ryan ran a hand across his face, he felt nothing but soft, smooth skin.

  “What, you don’t talk?” Dylan asked. He tossed the pizza on the concrete. “You shy?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Dyl, what’s up, man?” Brian, one of Dylan’s minions, suddenly appeared. He punched Dylan gently in the arm, a sign of brotherhood Ryan had never known.

  “What’s up? What’s up is this little bitch thinks he’s too good to talk,” Dylan said. All around him, Ryan heard the early titters of laughter.

  Enough. This is enough. Sure, it had only been two weeks, but the pattern was already established. It happened every single day. Usually Dylan started it, but sometimes it was another bully. It had felt like prison, these first few days, and it was clear he was earmarked to be the weakling. He couldn’t help it—his fists bunched up tight like they were out of his control.

  Ryan was already swinging toward Dylan as he stood up. He heard his tray hit the ground as his fist connected with nothing but air. Any momentum was already lost, and the missed target shot him off balance.

  Dylan laughed as he rocked back on one foot. Ryan saw nothing but that balled up fist headed straight for his face. The shock of knuckle against nose was stronger than any kind of pain, but Ryan knew that wouldn’t last long. He’d caught himself with nothing but a palm and elbow when he hit the concrete, and the pain pierced through his hand like a wasp sting. A warm, coppery stream started to pour out of his nose, and he saw Dylan start to set up for another punch.

  “What the fuck?” Dylan said as the full soda can hit his temple. It connected with a dense thud, and bright red fruit juice sprayed across his face.

  “You think you’re so tough now?” The new girl was at Ryan’s side, a second soda in her hand—this one in a glass bottle. “Come on, then. Show me. I dare you.” Her voice wasn’t what he expected. It was lilting and feminine, yet cool and steady. She sounded years older than she must have been.

  “What wrong with you?” Dylan said. “You—”

  “Try me, and I’ll show you.” She tossed the glass bottle between her hands. Dylan looked down, and his beady eyes widened.

  “You’re crazy,” he whispered. He clutched his head as he turned and ran away. The crowd that had gathered, that had been egging Dylan on, dispersed as if nothing had happened. Ryan could hear some murmurings as small groups gossiped over what they’d just seen. It was like one of
those prison movie scenes where everybody was trying to figure out the hierarchy.

  “Hey,” the blonde girl said to him. She offered her hand to help him up, and he took it with his good one. He didn’t want her to see how badly he’d hurt his right palm.

  “Hey, uh. Thanks,” he said as he brushed off his shorts.

  “That guy’s a real jerk, huh?” When she spoke, her full lips parted to reveal incredibly white, straight teeth, save for the smallest of gaps between her front teeth. Like she’d had braces already, but the orthodontist couldn’t bear to have her smile too perfect. It was in that so-called imperfection that Ryan got lost.

  “Yeah, well,” he said. “I’m used to it.” Shut up! Shut up!

  She cocked her head to the side, curious. “I’m Poppy, by the way,” she said.

  “Ryan,” he said. He felt like he should shake her hand, but their hands were still clasped from her helping him up. He dropped her hand quickly, suddenly aware of the heat of her palm and the softness of her skin.

  “Bullies can’t usually take their own medicine. At least that’s what I’ve discovered,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve gone to a lot of schools.”

  “How come?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to follow her answer. All he knew is he didn’t want her to go.

  She just shrugged and smiled. “Long, boring story,” she said.

  “I could use a long, boring story,” he said. “You wanna sit?”

  She laughed and exposed that perfectly imperfect smile again. When she sat next to him, automatically offering up half her lunch, it didn’t feel awkward or forced. He didn’t feel like a charity case, like he usually did when one of the more empathetic kids took temporary mercy on him. It was just natural. Poppy straddled the bench and faced him directly. He searched her face for sweat or some kind of sign the weather got to her, but found nothing. It was like she existed on a totally different plane beyond them all.