Bad Boy Blues (Get Wilde Book 3)

by Amelia Wilde

  I catch Jeannine’s arm. “How’s my hair?”

  “Fucking perfect,” she screams over the music, then gives me a wink. I don’t know what she thinks she’s winking about, but let her think what she wants. If she’s the only witness, so be it—I haven’t seen any other Deltas here tonight, so I should be home free.

  I turn around and stop dancing, and there he is, in the same spot, eyes boring into me. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and I take a moment to drink in his tall, perfect figure before I force myself to catch my breath.

  Talking to Jackson Cole is playing with fire. Dangerous, sexy, ruinous fire. Even uttering a word to him could bring my whole sorority house of cards tumbling to the ground.

  But even now there’s a crackle of electricity between us, and damn it, I’m not going to ignore it. Not tonight. My outfit is perfect, I spent a full hour getting my hair just so, and the red lipstick I’m wearing makes me feel confident as fuck.

  I square my shoulders and lift my chin a little, and Jackson’s eyes narrow. I can just tell he’s daring me to come over.

  I don’t hesitate to accept the challenge.

  4

  Jackson

  Alyssa London takes my breath away, and I fucking hate it. I thought by now, two years after she dumped me, that the sight of her wouldn’t send electric jolts of pure heat down my shoulders and straight to my fingers, but when I see her dancing—unmistakable, even as Marylin Monroe—everything stops.

  I stare at her from the edge of the dance floor, unable to look away. Did she see me? It’s hard to tell, because she turns back toward her friends and keeps dancing, her sensuous hips the world’s biggest cock tease. Mine is ready to burst out of these fucking tweed pants right now, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I cross my arms over my chest and stand rooted to the spot.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I’m flooded with so many memories that they blur into one painfully sexy montage. Her bent over my lap, my hand coming down hard on her ass until it’s pink, until she’s on the verge of tears but with a pussy so wet it drips down onto my thighs. I don’t know how we discovered that she’s the hot, filthy submissive type, but we must have known it instantly, just the way I always knew I wanted to take control in the bedroom.

  And take control I did.

  Right up until she dumped me, standing outside my dorm room in a tight white t-shirt and clinging jeans, tears on the edges of her eyelashes.

  “I just need to figure out where I belong,” she said mournfully, like she couldn’t have done that with me by her side.

  “You belong here, with me,” I’d said, feeling desperate and sick, standing there in a pair of boxers. It had been a Friday night. She’d joined some sorority and was going off to some bullshit event—mother sisters or something—and I was still reeling from the 180 she’d done since Bid Day. This princess of a girl with her hair in a classy bun was not the same person who had, days before, climbed on top of me in the bed and begged me to pull her hair, which was constantly a mess. She loved it when I squeezed her right hip, decorated in my parents’ tattoo shop with a swirling pattern that did her every bit of justice.

  My heart beats so hard I think it’s going to explode. I have no choice but to turn around right now. She’s going to ignore me. There’s no way she’s going to talk to me. For the last two years, she’s done her damnedest to avoid me on campus, and the few times I’ve seen her from afar, she’s very clearly trying to stay wrapped up in her own little world and never notice that I’m here at all.

  Then Alyssa turns around and looks me straight in the eye, her body going still and tall—well, as tall as her petite frame can possibly be.

  She’s styled her blonde hair exactly like Marylin’s in that movie—the one that everybody has the posters of—and her face is set off by deep red lipstick that makes me want to bite those soft lips a little too hard.

  I keep my arms crossed over my chest and give her a look. She lifts her chin, and then, like she’s going into battle, comes straight across the dance floor at me, hips swaying in time with the beat of the music.

  Inches away from me she stops and heat radiates between us. I take a deep breath. I’d know that scent fucking anywhere, and I want to hook a finger underneath her dress and peel it right off of her.

  “Jackson.” She has to speak loudly to be heard over the music, but her tone is soft, the opposite of the confidence she’s projecting…and projecting hard.

  “Hey.” Her eyes flick down to my tattoos and she bites her lip.

  That’s when I know.

  I have dreamed about Alyssa London ever since she broke up with me and severed all contact. Most nights I wake up with a raging hard-on from the sex dreams that never quit, all starring her gorgeous body.

  Which, from what I can tell, is just as on-point as it ever was.

  She looks back into my eyes. I can’t make out the green color in the dance floor strobe lights, but her expression is half pleading, half predator.

  I fucking love that about her.

  “Can we—” She stops and swallows hard. “Do you think we could go somewhere and talk?” Alyssa twists her fingers together in front of her dress. Talk? I hope we do far, far more than talk.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I’m being a little bit of a prick, and I know it, but there’s a part of me that’s screaming to remain in control, even now. Even though I want her so badly I can taste it. I’d fuck her right here on the dance floor if it was that kind of party, which it doesn’t seem to be.

  She leans in, lining her mouth up with my ear, and says the one word that has me all-in. “Us.”

  Us. There used to be an us. And we were fucking incredible together. A match made in heaven, if you want to get religious about it. Nobody was filthier in bed and more fun to hang out with than Alyssa. Nobody could make her scream like I could.

  I bet it’s still true.

  “You have any ideas?” I give her the sexy half-grin she’s never been able to resist before, and the way her body relaxes gives her away entirely.

  “It’s a mansion,” she shouts over the din. “We can explore a little bit, find somewhere out of the way…”

  If I have her tonight, am I ever going to be able to let it go?

  I don’t give a shit. Alyssa is leading me away from the dance floor, and I’m not resisting.

  I could never.

  5

  Alyssa

  The search for somewhere quiet goes way outside the ballroom. There are people spilling out into the foyer, so that’s not going to cut it, especially for the throbbing need that’s been growing in my core since I saw Jackson at the edge of the dance floor.

  His hand in mine, I scan the lower floor for doors. There’s probably a library and a kitchen entrance somewhere down here—typical mansion shit—but if I know anything about college parties, those places will already be occupied.

  Then I spy a stairway recessed into the wall. It’s not the grand centerpiece of the room, like you’d expect for a mansion, but something more hidden, out of the.

  That’s what I’m looking for.

  I drag Jackson toward the staircase, my ears still ringing from the incredible volume of the DJ. The dance music pulses behind us, growing a little fainter with every step we take up the staircase, but as it does my heart beats louder in my chest, and crackles of electric anticipation run down my arms. I can practically feel Jackson smiling behind me, although I don’t dare turn around to look. This is exactly the kind of thing we used to do when we were together—go forbidden places, do forbidden things, and love every minute of it.

  There’s a door at the top of the staircase, and I don’t hesitate before I put my hand on the knob and push it open, both of us tumbling through at top speed.

  We’re in a huge, long hallway with doors lining the sides, and Jackson squeezes my hand. It’s surprisingly quiet up here, except for…

  “What is that?” I whisper, unable to keep the giddiness
out of my voice.

  “People fucking,” he whispers back. I want to be one of those people. For the first time, I become aware of his hand on mine, of the incredible heat between us. Now that we’re out of the din of the ballroom, all I can focus on is Jackson.

  Damn. You are about to be in big trouble.

  I push the thought away. First item on my agenda: find an empty room.

  We creep down the hallway until I straighten up, laughing. If some of these rooms are occupied by people making loud enough noises to be heard, there’s no reason to sneak around. Clearly, the Professor is inviting this kind of behavior. Maybe he’s even part of it. What the hell do I know?

  We try a few doors—locked—and open one more that seems unoccupied, but the couple inside is just going at it with a silent determination. They don’t miss a beat when I back out and close the door softly behind us.

  We’re almost all the way down the hall when I try a random door. It swings open without a sound.

  “This is it,” says Jackson, his low, sexy voice confirming what I’m thinking.

  “Damn right it is.”

  He reaches behind him to close the door and lets go of my hand.

  I step farther into the room, taking it in. It’s a decent-sized bedroom, with a fireplace on one end—a legit fire burning in it, yet the room is a pleasant temperature—and a bed that’s at least a queen against one wall. And it smells…fresh. Clean. Like the linens have just been changed.

  If talking goes the way I think it might, they’ll want a new set of sheets after tonight…

  There’s also an ottoman in front of the fireplace, but no chairs. I can’t imagine what you’d need a kind of bench for, in just that place.

  No. Wait. I can imagine it. I can imagine being on it on my hands and knees, Jackson’s hands—

  I spin around and look at him. His eyes are searching the room too, his arms crossed over his chest, but they focus directly on me now.

  Every breath he takes makes me want him more.

  But we came up here to…to talk.

  He seems to remember that, too.

  “So,” he says, taking another step toward me. The air between us crackles with my need. “What is it you want to discuss?”

  His tone is even and low, and I’m flooded with memories of him commanding me, scolding me, in the hottest way imaginable, and suddenly I feel myself sinking down into that space. It’s all I can do not to drop to my knees and crawl across the floor to him.

  I take a deep breath, bite my lip. “I’m—I’m sorry about what happened.” In the silence of the room, the words seem lame and inadequate.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way things…ended between us.”

  His eyes narrow and his jaw works. “Are you having some regrets, Alyssa?”

  The sound of my name in his mouth sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine, even if his tone has an edge to it.

  My heart pounds against my rib cage. Now that he’s asked the question, it’s hard to deny the truth. I was going to say something about how I wish it hadn’t been so abrupt, how I wish we could have stayed friends, but in reality…

  “Yes.”

  My voice is barely above a whisper, but when my word reaches his ears he nods, breathing in deep.

  “I wish things had gone differently.”

  “How differently?”

  I can’t help myself. I can’t—I need to know if he wants me as much as I want him.

  He came up here with me, didn’t he?

  Maybe he just wanted to see what I would say.

  “It didn’t have to end like that,” he says, stepping closer to me, making the air seem thinner with every movement. “Don’t you remember how things used to be?”

  I can’t forget how things used to be. That’s why this is so goddamn risky.

  “Yes.” My hands tremble just thinking about those hours with him, tucked away in the back of a car, or in his basement bedroom.

  “Those didn’t have to end.”

  6

  Jackson

  I’m baiting her, and I know it. I just can’t help toying with this gorgeous creature, even two years later. Alyssa is the woman who still keeps me up at night, and I can tell by the way she trembles in her place, by the way she bites her lip, that the tension is getting to her.

  How could it not be?

  How many times did I bend her over my knee and spank her until she was soaking wet?

  How many times did I fuck her nearly senseless, so hard and fast that we both needed twenty minutes afterward to recover?

  I want it back. I want it all back, so badly that my hands ache with the need to slam against the firm flesh of her ass again.

  Stay in control, I warn myself with as stern an inner voice as possible. Do not let her get to you.

  That’s the issue. She’s already under my skin. She’s never not been under my skin, not since the first day I saw her.

  The closer I get, the faster she breathes. I’m pressing my advantage, and from the way her eyes travel down my shirt, I’m absolutely certain she’s going back into a version of the girl she used to be before we broke up.

  That girl was wild and dirty and filthy and entirely mine.

  She could be mine again.

  No.

  She can’t.

  She’s got a new life now, and I need to accept that—we both do, otherwise we’re never going to let go of each other.

  I want to quit talking and fuck her right now. If this is my one last chance with Alyssa, then I don’t want to spend it talking in a mansion bedroom, the firelight playing over her hair.

  But she’s determined.

  “Well, they—they did have to end, because I thought—” She looks away. I’m inches from her now, close enough to smell the perfume she carefully spritzed on while she was getting ready. “I thought I couldn’t have a different life and stay with you.”

  “What do you think now?”

  I raise my hand and draw the pad of my finger down the bare flesh of her arm. Goosebumps spring up in its wake.

  “I still think—” She gasps a little when my finger reaches her wrist. “I still think it would have been hard to get—get where I am today if I was still so…so consumed by you.”

  Her voice is thin, breathy, like she can’t get enough air. It’s turning me on so much it hurts.

  “And where are you today?”

  “I’m—” Her eyes lock on mine, and then fall back to the floor. “I have everything that any girl would ever want.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s—” Her voice gives her away. Suddenly, she’s on the verge of tears. “It’s not enough for me. I need…I need…”

  Alyssa can’t get the words out. I put a finger under her chin and raise her face so that she’s forced to look into my eyes. Her entire body is trembling now.

  “You’re too dirty for them.”

  “Yes,” she says with a little sob, a tear streaking down her face.

  “Don’t cry.”

  “Okay.”

  Her lip still quivers.

  “You’re too dirty for those douchebag frat boys, and you can’t admit it.”

  A nod.

  “And you’ve spent every day of the last two years thinking about me, and everything we used to do together.”

  Another nod. “How do you know?” Her voice is a whisper.

  “Because I’ve been thinking of you, too.”

  Something in her releases, and her shoulders sag. “You have?”

  “How the fuck could I ever forget you?” I growl, and for a moment I have to look away, a hand over my mouth. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or ever will see. Nobody—nobody—can make me feel the way you do.”

  Alyssa swallows hard. This is getting heavy—heavier than either of us planned, I think—and at some point we’re going to have to make our minds up. Do we walk downstairs and pretend this never happened, or do we give in to the desire that’s filling
the room?

  Every single one of my heartbeats reverberates down to my fingertips. I don’t know what the fuck is going to come of this, and in this moment I don’t care. I just have to have her.

  The only thing I need to do now is wait until she gives in, and all the signs point to her walls tumbling down, point to the carefully constructed image of the perfect sorority girl who would never, ever do anything kinky falling to pieces around her feet.

  It seems to take her a lot of effort to speak. “What should we do, Jackson?”

  Fuck. Fuck hard, and fuck long, and let me punish you like you know you want me to. Like you need me to. Like you’ve craved for the past two years. Like you dream about every night. Like we never were apart from each other, not for an instant, not for a single day.

  I look down into her green eyes and drink in the yellow lightning bolt that rings her pupils. She’s looking to me for an answer, but I’m not going to give it to her. She’s the one who left me high and dry two years ago, and as petty as it fucking sounds, she’s the one who’s going to have to ask for it.

  I need her to ask for it.

  I square my jaw. “What are you going to do?”

  The silence that follows drags on for one moment, then two, Alyssa biting down hard on her lip. It goes on so long that I wonder if we’re frozen here, trapped forever like some strange-as-shit fairy tale.

  A part of me doesn’t care, as long as I’m trapped with her.

  Then Alyssa’s eyes drop to the carpet.

  She straightens her back.

  And then she sinks to her knees on the floor, head bowed in front of me.

  The perfect dirty girl.

  7

  Alyssa

  My heart is in my throat as I look into Jackson’s blue eyes, the hard slate color piercing straight to my soul.

  He’s right. He’s absolutely fucking right.

  I’m too dirty to spend my life as a perfect Delta girl. I just am. I’ve lost count of all the nights I’ve woken up writhing under my sheets, thinking of his hands on me, thinking of…other things on me.