[The Social Experiment 01.0] The Social Experiment

by Addison Moore

  “You’ll lay off the Ice Princess forever. She’s off limits. I’m claiming her—and not to bed her. I’m protecting her from assholes like you.”

  Jet groans as Winston wraps an arm around her waist like he owns her. “What about that asshole?”

  I take in a mean breath. I’ll admit, it yanks my dick to see him touching her so intimately, especially knowing what I do regarding why she’s letting him.

  “Okay, I’ll make this easy.” Jet pushes his wad of spare change closer to me. “If you can steal Little Miss Priss away from the frat brat—to protect her”—he and Rex exchange amused yet goofy grins—“I’ll give you the five grand anyway. Make her yours.”

  “To protect her from that idiot?” Every muscle in my tired body jumps at the thought of having five grand to my name. I have a great job with even greater pay, but there used to be a line of what I’m willing to do for money, and somewhere along the way I’ve clearly crossed it.

  “You can be the hero and score some cash.” Jet thumps his fistful of dollars onto the table. “Hell, you can even run around with a cape if you like.”

  I glance to Piper. She has a nervous look in her eyes as Winston edges his body close to hers. Something in me desperately wants to protect her, wants to make sure that neither the demonic sorority she’s trying to score a bed in nor that idiot who’s just plain trying to score can hurt her.

  “She won’t go for someone like me.” It stings to admit it. “She comes from money, and she wants her man to come from money, too.” I can read people, especially when it comes to what they think they want in someone else. It’s a gift I’ve been profiting from for the last few years. “I know her type. It used to be me.”

  Rex slaps his paw over my shoulder. “You’re right, dude. And that’s where the challenge comes in. You’re good enough for her. Both you and I know that. But she’s a tough nut. You can’t crack ’em all.”

  I scowl at him a moment. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You think you can do it?” Jet’s brows rise. “Five K is on the line.” He shakes his head as if I should consider this lunacy.

  “You’re going to give me five K if I make that chick mine. Really?”

  “Really.” Jet’s smile slides right off his face. He’s been closer than a brother. They both have—through all of my formidable bullshit, and now he’s willing to gift me five K to do what the two of them feel is impossible. “Make her your girlfriend.”

  “I’m up for a challenge.” I knock back the rest of my beer and shake his catcher’s mitt of a hand. “I’m in. She’ll be mine in no time, and that tree trunk she’s trying to climb will be long gone by homecoming.”

  Rex blinks back with disbelief. “That’s in a month.”

  I cinch my cheek high and pin it as I observe the two of them across the room. They do look friendly. A little too friendly for my taste. “I’ll do it in half the time.”

  Rex holds back a laugh. “There goes that ego again. All right, you have until homecoming. I’m being generous.”

  “You think I’ll need the extra time, but I won’t. We’re dealing with an expert here, remember?”

  “Okay, I’ll even up the ante. Six grand in a couple of weeks, a solid five in a month—either way, you’re about to get lucky.”

  Rex shakes his head ever so slightly while studying Piper and that gasbag she’s attached herself to. “No, he’s not. Owen is right. She’s doing the sorority thing. She comes from money.” He looks to me. “She’s looking for a social climb, and you, my friend, were recently demoted. I know her type, too. We’re cut from the same cloth.”

  My eyes can’t look away from Piper and those skintight jeans. “She can look past all that social bullshit.” My stomach wrenches because I’m not too sure she can.

  A brisk knock erupts over the table. “What’s going on?”

  We glance up to find Bryson delivering three fresh beers with a smile.

  “On the house.” He nods to me. “You got a second? I’d love for you to meet Baya.”

  “Yes.” I’m on my feet as the guys thank Bryson for the kind gesture. I follow him to the bar where a trio of girls stands laughing amongst themselves, one of which is my cousin Roxy, Ryder’s sister. She offers up a knuckle bump, and I meet her there. Roxy is a big sweetheart hiding under a tough exterior. She’s easy to spot, with her bright red hair and big bright eyes. She has a successful baking business that she runs from her apartment, Sprinkles Cupcakes. I’ve been meaning to stop by and down a few dozen, especially now that we’re in the same building.

  “Get over here!” Roxy pulls me in tight. “Damn, I missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” I pull back and look to Bryson.

  “Owen, you know Laney, Ryder’s wife.”

  Oh, shit. I went to their wedding, and here I hardly recognized her in the low-lit bar with the all the noise and bodies pumping around us.

  “Yes, of course. You were a beautiful bride by the way, as were you.” I recognize Baya. Ryder and Bryson had a double wedding. I was pretty choked up watching Baya walk down the aisle, especially since my sister almost made sure it didn’t happen. I still can’t fathom how she can have so little disregard for human life. Baya is a person who deserves to breathe every single breath God gives her, just like Stephanie did. My heart aches for the entire Jones family.

  “Thank you.” Baya’s face contorts to a gripping sadness. “Can I give you a hug?”

  “Yes.” I can barely get the word out through the brick lodged in my throat. Baya wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tight for a moment, probably too tight, but I can’t help it. I’m sorry for all the pain, all the heartache Aubree has caused. I wish there was some way to wipe it all away.

  She pulls back with fresh tears in her eyes. “You are a sweetheart. I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I wish you all the success in the world.”

  Roxy step in and wraps her arms around my shoulder. “I told them about the bullshit your family is putting you through. You know that your dad is just taking a cue from my old man. Only mine was kind enough to get Ryder and me through school before cutting us off. Are you doing okay? I’ve tried calling and texting, but you’re doing the I’m-not-getting-your-messages thing.”

  That’s my favorite part about Roxy—she’s a no-bullshit zone. And she’s right. I’ve been avoiding any and all extended family for years, partly because I’ve got too much pride to take a handout and partly because I’m damn ashamed of what my branch of the family has done. My mother and Roxy’s father are siblings, but it’s no secret my father has been paying attention to how they raise their children. I’ve heard a million times how the Capwells have managed to raise decent kids who aren’t panning out to be a burden on taxpayers for the rest of their lives. As soon as he said that, I knew I didn’t want any government handout to help me along the way. I know the dig was meant for Aubree and the lifelong prison sentence under her belt, but I felt the sting and disappointment more than she ever could.

  “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can manage. “How about we hang out sometime? I’m at Briggs now—just landed in your building, in fact, and I’ll be here more than you’ll ever care to see me.”

  “Done. We’ll catch up.”

  “Cool.” Our little group disbands.

  I glance around the room for Piper, and my eyes snag on an unwelcome sight. Winston’s hands keep gravitating to her hips, and she keeps rerouting him to her waist, but he’s enjoying the slip. Too bad he’s playing it all wrong. That’s one thing I tell my boys when they’re desperate to get laid—act like you don’t really need it. Act like you’re the one doing them a favor. And for fuck’s sake, don’t accost the girl. I speed over with my cock on fire, ready and willing to beat this asshole’s head in if he touches her any lower and, shit—his hands glide right over her curves in an aggressive revolution. I snatch a half-full glass off an abandoned table, ready to initiate what’s quickly becoming my signature move. Only this time I don
’t bother doing the traditional bump and dump. This time I fling it all in his face.

  He jumps back, wheezing, inspecting the damage to his silk suit and tie. And who the hell wears an Italian suit to a bar? Another reason she shouldn’t be hanging out with this idiot. He’s suspicious in every capacity.

  “Oh my God! Are your parents siblings?” Piper slices my throat with a mean look before making a lame attempt to mop him up with his already saturated tie. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Winston nods to me. “I advise that next time you be more careful. Excuse me.” He ducks into the crowd and heads for the bathroom.

  Piper spins into me. Her hair fans out like dark flames, her eyes already lit with fire. She lets out a riotous roar right in my face, and I stand steady, unflinching because I know for a fact Jet and Rex are watching the entire exchange.

  Pay attention, boys—I’m about to show you how it’s done.

  “I knew that was your stupid shtick!” She slaps at my chest a few times. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” Her jaw pops as she shouts the words, her pretty cherry-stained lips round out in a pout, and I’m dying to land my mouth over them—to impress the boys, of course. I nod at this misnomer I’m begging myself to buy into because the alternative, the very thought of me wanting this temperamental hellion makes my balls want to shrivel up in fear.

  “That was me doing you a favor.”

  She strikes her hand across my face so hard half the bar pauses in awe of her backhanded expertise. I’ll admit, it takes a talent to smack like that. The entire left side of my face is on fire.

  Piper gets in close, nose-to-nose, her anger so ripe it’s thermal. “That was me doing you a favor. Get over yourself, Owen. Find another coed to manipulate into your bed!” She takes off to the hearty applause of the ponytail republic.

  I turn back and spot both Jet and Rex shaking their heads like a couple of mournful motherfuckers.

  I’ll prove them wrong, or in a Shakespearean turn of events I’ll prove myself wrong. Nope, that’s not going to happen. I need Little Miss Priss’s body to conform to mine, willingly, of course, and that blissful union will lead to a hefty boost to my bank account. My stomach goes rancid at the thought. Hell, I’d tame that shrew for nothing.

  It’s getting late so I leave straight for work, and all I see, all I think about is Piper.

  Hot damn, if Jet and Rex weren’t right about this one. And they were wrong about one thing. I’m not as infallible as I might have led them to believe—I’ve hit a wall or two of stinging rejection.

  But my entire body begs for it not to come from Piper. I’ve seen where rejection landed my sister, and because of it I have no intention on ever chasing the ever-elusive tail of love. Not going to happen. I’m not interested in the insanity, the madness that fairy tales can lead to. No thank you. I have no problem landing girls in my bed and kicking them right back out once we’re through. I’ve never heard a complaint, and I’m a strong subscriber of the old adage, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.

  Piper James has stained my brain, and I can’t seem to evict her. The thought of that firecracker committing—submitting to a relationship with me does seem a bit farfetched.

  I give my truck a quick slap before hopping inside.

  It’s game on. Piper James is landing in my bed sooner than her wild self can ever imagine.

  This isn’t about the money.

  This is personal.

  ****THANK YOU for reading this preview of Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7). This book is currently available through Kindle Unlimited! Happy reading! XOXO <3 The first book in the 3:AM Kisses is FREE! 3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)! Enjoy!

  And be sure to check out Addison’s new romantic Comedy Mystery! Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies (Murder in the Mix 1)

  Naughty by Nature

  Addison Moore

  *A SEXY standalone romantic comedy*

  One look from Jax Stade promises to land even the nicest girl onto the naughty list.

  Jax and I used to be best friends right up until he broke my heart. Everyone knows that both Jax and his overinflated ego are well beyond naughty—that face, those eyes, don’t get me started on that body made of steel. Every last part of me is bent on revenge. I’ll make sure payback is hell for Jax. I just hope I don’t end up getting my heart crushed by him twice in one lifetime.

  Jax and I were inseparable growing up—since then our careers buffered us, but our mothers are still very much best friends. They’ve spent their whole lives trying to push us together—not to mention humiliating us by way of popping up at dances and doing the Macarena, showing up at football games wearing little more than curlers and bathrobes. Mortifying us to their own delight was their specialty. That might be ancient history, but we still bear the scars. So, when I pop back into town, Jax and I devise a scheme of our own to prank the pranksters. We’ll pretend we’re the real deal, right up until the day of our mothers’ shared big birthday bash, and then we’ll pull the pin on this faux-couples grenade.

  Not only will we get even with our meddlesome mothers, but I’ll get to exact a little revenge on the boy who split my heart in two. Yes, I will most certainly get even—and just maybe a little bit naughty.

  With Jax Stade around, naughty is inevitable.

  Midnight Mischief

  Poppy

  Jaxson Stade is a Roman statue come to life, carved by the ancient masters with a body of a god and a heart of impenetrable steel—most likely fashioned by those rolls of alloy that have made his family billionaires ten times over. It’s hard to believe after all these years we’re in the same room, feet on the floor within fighting distance in the very same bar. A live band croons in the corner, an entire crowd of bodies hustles for space between us as the scent of stale fries and beer fills my senses, but it’s Jaxson and his obnoxious presence that has my full attention.

  A tiny blonde scoots in beside me. “Poppy Montgomery! Now is that a look of yearning or burning on your pretty little face?”

  I glance over at my best friend, whom I haven’t seen in the flesh in far too long, and dive into a quick embrace. “It’s a look of churning—as in revulsion. And by the way, I’m pretty sure yearning and burning are one in the same, Sadie Richards.” I pull her into a hug with an explosion of laughter as we bounce up and down like six-year-olds.

  “I’m so happy to have you back!” Her blonde curls dust my face as she does her best to crush my ribcage. “You can never leave again. I’m not letting you go.” Sadie is a pixy incarnate. Tiny features, sparkling pink lips, big blue doe eyes—Sadie is gorgeous enough to make anyone with an X-chromosome look twice. She’s petite and beautiful and an all-around vixen—and she just so happens to be coming off of what she refers to as her very first divorce. It’s safe to say, Sadie is planning on amassing her fair share of exes. “Are you scoping out the midnight offerings?” She bumps my hip with her own.

  Midnight. I shudder at the prospect of being void a set of lips to press against mine at that annual bewitching hour.

  New Year’s Eve is just the kind of holiday that requires copious amounts of alcohol, lots of carnal cavorting with friends and potential lovers alike, and, perhaps best of all, a sexual situation brewing around midnight. But this New Year’s Eve is different. It’s my first in Oak Grove since I left five years ago. I’ve been back for the odd obligatory holiday, this last Christmas withstanding. My family alternates hosting the holy holiday with the Stade family every other year—as in Jaxson Stade’s family—and every other year I’m magically and mysteriously unable to make it. While I was still in college, my tried-and-true excuse was citing post-final exhaust, and after graduation a faux internship cropped up, but this past Christmas, I was wrapping up my last two weeks at work as a design consultant to an impressive L.A. firm. Yes, five years at a private college on a beach in Santa Barbara has done me well. I managed to land myself a cushy position at a top firm touted highly by everyone who is anyone in La La Land. But I digress as my eye
s fall back on the sight they’ve been craving for oh so long, Jaxson Stade… don’t even get me started on that hot body. I bite down over my lower lip as an aching sigh expels from me.

  “He is a sight to behold.” A dark-haired beauty, smelling of that sweet familiar tea-scented perfume I’ve come to associate with my sister, pops up on my left.

  “Mackenzie!” I pull her into a tight embrace as my second hug-fest of the evening ensues. Back in L.A., I’ve yet to hug a single soul. Come to find out, such a show of affection is practically illegal in the City of Angels. In its place are well-delineated physical boundaries and sexual assault infringements. “Is Conner here?” Conner is Mack’s twin, and thankfully our one and only overprotective brother. Back in high school, I couldn’t go two steps with a date without Conner giving them a shakedown worthy of an FBI investigation.

  Mack squawks at the prospect. “Conner took off with some hot blonde over an hour ago—but never mind our whorish big bro. You really took a crap on Christmas this year, Pops. We missed you.”

  It makes my stomach churn to hear her say that. Sure, I feel guilty missing other holidays, too, but missing Christmas feels like something just this side of a felony. Christmas is huge in my family, and I hate that I missed out on all the caroling and cavorting because I’m essentially a coward. I shoot Jax a knife-sharp look because we both know it’s all his fault.

  “I’m here now.” I pat Mack over the shoulders, drinking down this slightly older version of myself, same dark wavy hair, same lucent green eyes. My mother called us her Irish twins mostly because we were born a year apart—she didn’t let the sheets cool as she so indelicately puts it. But to this day, I think the reference has more to do with these emerald lenses we get to see the world through. “And I’m ready to take a crap all over the New Year, too, so you’d better watch out. Where’s your better half?” Mack married her longtime boyfriend, Dave Holiday, right out of high school. They’ve been hitched for a blissful six years and have a boy and a girl underfoot already, Ellie and Benny. Well— blissful might be a tad exaggerating. An acid tongue is a longtime family trait that has been passed down on our mother’s side, and is something both my sister and I have in common. Apparently, it doesn’t bode well for spouses, thus the constant strife the two young lovebirds face, and sadly thus the constant strife in their marriage.