This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2016 by Stacey Mosteller
LOOKING FOR TROUBLE by Stacey Mosteller
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
EPub ISBN: 978-1-945107-75-7 Mobi ISBN: 978-1-945107-76-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-945107-77-1
Published by Swoon Romance, Raleigh, NC 27609
Cover design by Sara Eirew
Mel—
My best friend, my “twin”, my other half.
You fell in love with Clay long before this book ever became a reality. I don’t know how I made it through the majority of my life without you, or what I would do without the late night chats and 3 hour FaceTime calls where you talk me down off whatever ledge I’m on.
Stephen—
Dude, we made it! You graduated high school—class of 2016! So much of Clay was inspired by you—his one-liners, his attitude, the way he reacts to his brothers. You’re a hilarious “manchild” and the past 17 years have been a pleasure. No matter how many “book babies” I have, you’ll always be my #1, my partner in crime, and my shoulder to cry on when things get rough. Oh, and no, you can’t read any of my books until you turn 18. Really, if you could just not ever I’d be good with that. #sorrynotsorry
Clay
The minute I walk into the club, I’m surrounded by tits and ass. Big tits, small boobs, the kind of breasts that fill your hands perfectly; big booty, tiny butt, and my favorite—a girl with a tight ass. There’s no better thing on Earth than a girl with a tight ass and high, round breasts. Just thinking about it makes my cock perk up and take notice. In fact, by the time I make it over to where the football team sits, I’m half hard. My situation gets worse when I take a seat across from Liam and Meghan straddles my lap, her tits at my eye level. And what a nice set they are. I’m intimately acquainted with them—more than a handful, light pink nipples that harden at the slightest touch, soft but firm and completely natural. We spent the majority of our free time either in her bed or mine during football season, not to mention that one time in the front seat of my car. So I’m damn-near best friends with her chest.
I only get a few seconds to reminisce about her body before her mouth is on mine and her tongue is tracing the seam of my lips, requesting access that I readily give. She knows just how I like it, how much tongue to use, how much teeth. My semi quickly turns into a full-blown hard-on when Meghan slowly grinds my second favorite part of her body against my favorite part of mine. Most guys are all about the pussy, but that’s not me. Not that I don’t love it, I just love breasts more. The grinding is a short-lived pleasure, though. Just as I place my hands on her hips to direct her in a way that will pleasure us both the most, she pulls away.
Turning her lithe body slightly, she leans back to grab something off the table, pushing her fantastic tits close enough to my face that if we were in private, well, let’s just say I’d be practicing my motorboat skills. Meg quickly turns back to face me, a shot glass full of amber liquid in her hand. Noticing the objects of my attention, she grins wickedly, shaking them, before placing the shot carefully between her heavenly mounds. Yeah, that sounded corny as all fuck, but they are definitely my idea of heaven.
To reward her for her quick thinking, I don’t go straight for the shot. Meghan’s tight, royal blue, low-cut top starts just above her distended nipples, showing she’s obviously not wearing a bra—not that she needs one—and I can’t resist tasting her skin. The slight sheen on her pale skin tells me she was dancing before I got here, and the small bit of sweat makes me think about all the times she’s been beneath me, over me, around me over the past few months. I keep my eyes on her as I extend my tongue just enough to trace the edge of her top. I’m close enough that I can feel and hear her heart rate and breathing speed up.
Knowing she’s turned on by just that small action causes one side of my mouth to tip up in a smirk. Her hands slide up my arms, and I know from experience that soon they will grip my hair, keeping me right where she wants me. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but I do want that shot. So before she can reach my shoulders, I lean in, gripping the shot glass with my teeth, and tip my head back, the liquid burning down my throat.
Meghan smiles down at me as she removes the shot glass from my mouth, locking her lips with mine once again and licking the remnants of alcohol off my lips before slipping her tongue back inside my mouth. The shot glass in her hand is forgotten as she grinds down on my lap, her hips moving to the music and her breath turning into pants as my lips break apart from hers and travel down her jaw to her throat.
She smells like a mixture of fruity perfume and arousal, a scent that has my jeans feeling three sizes too small. The sounds of my former teammates talking and ribbing each other are barely discernible over the sound of my heartbeat. All I can concentrate on is the fact that my cock is hard and the girl on my lap is more than willing. It would take just a few minutes to lead her down a dark hallway to find a corner, the door to a stockroom, the door to an alley, or whatever.
Deciding to do just that, I bite down just hard enough for her to feel my teeth on the tender skin where her neck meets her shoulder before I pull the shot glass from her limp fingers and drop it on the table behind her back. Liam’s low chuckle catches my attention, and I raise my eyes to see him smirking at me knowingly. One side of my mouth tips up against her skin as he lifts a hand into a fist, prompting me to meet it with mine. He knows me well.
Trailing my lips back up her throat, I murmur in her ear. “Come with me for a minute?” She nods, slightly out of breath, her skin flushed and hips still moving in small circles on my lap. I pull back, kissing her briefly on her parted lips, and she sighs. I start to help her up when a disgusted sound comes from behind me. Meghan stiffens, looking over my shoulder, her eyes narrowed.
“Do you have a problem?” she asks.
The voice that answers is one I know well. She’s been pissing me off for as long as I’ve known her—more than five years now. “Yeah, I do actually,” she huffs. “If I’d wanted to watch porn, I’d do it online.” Her haughty tone pisses me off and amuses me equally. She’s been hanging out with Peyton too much. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face as I stand, turning to see her frown.
“Aw, what’s the matter, Kitty Kat? Are you jealous?” I lean in, bending so we’re eye to eye, my deep blue to her warm brown. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll let you join us.” She starts to roll her eyes, opening her mouth to retort, but my next words stop whatever she was going to say. “Maybe Meghan can teach you how to get a man.” Kat’s eyes practically shoot flames, but she doesn’t reply. Her hands turn into fists at her sides, and she almost shakes with anger, but she only lifts her chin. She looks at me like I’m nothing, like I can’t say anything to her that will matter, but I know her well enough by now to know my words cut her, exactly the way I wanted them to.
When she still doesn’t snap back at me, I walk closer, my arm brushing her shoulder a
s I pull Meghan past her. My brother Max stands behind her, along with my cousin Emmett and his girlfriend, though I use the term loosely, Liv. Max is glaring at me, but he won’t say anything either. He and Kat are made for each other, neither willing to stand up for themselves or anyone else. The pussy and the kitten. It’s a match made in heaven.
Kat
His arm brushes mine as he walks by, and I flinch. It takes all my self-control not to turn and watch him walk away. Clay says something to Max as he walks past them, but all I can hear are his last words in my head. Maybe Meghan can teach you how to get a man. Everybody knows I’ve been hung up on Max since Freshman year of high school. Everybody, but Max. He’s completely oblivious to my feelings, never noticing how hurt I am when he hooks up with some random girl while ignoring me. It breaks my heart every time. Especially since he flips his shit if I try to date. Max doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t seem to want anyone else to either. It’s so confusing.
And Clay, he hated me on sight for reasons I won’t ever understand. His nickname for me is even condescending. He hardly ever refers to me as Kat or Katrina. It makes me feel like I’m about two years old. I just don’t get his animosity. I wasn’t rude or dismissive, although now when I’m around him I tend to speak without thinking. I don’t speak my mind to anyone else, but something about Clay short-circuits my brain, and I say whatever goes through my head before I can stop it.
A second brush against my arm knocks me out of my thoughts to see Meghan beside me, a nasty smile on her face. She glares at me before following him through the crush of bodies on the dance floor, obviously angry I called what she and Clay were doing in the chair “porn.” I know instinctively he’s taking her somewhere a little more secluded, just like I know what they’re going to get up to while they’re there. A spike of something, an emotion I refuse to name, flits through my chest sharply, but I try to ignore it and the way Max watches her hips move as she walks away.
I smack him across the stomach, prompting him to let out an oof of breath though I didn’t hit him very hard. His abs are hard, his six-pack taut under his thin t-shirt. My cheeks heat at the thought of them, and I turn away, heading for the table where the team sits, cautious to sit as far from Clay’s vacated seat as possible. I might catch something nasty if I sit too close. Max sits on one side of me, while Clay’s friends sit on the other side of the table, cutting up and making sexist remarks about the girls that keep trying to grab their attention.
Warm breath tickles my ear as Max leans in to whisper in it. “Ignore Clay. You know he’s a first-class jerk. He just likes to rile you up.” I nod but keep my eyes on the table. I do know that, but right now, the thing that bothers me the most isn’t Clay, it’s the fact that there was lust in Max’s eyes as he watched his brother pull that girl behind him. Once again, I wasn’t his priority. Instead of trying to make me feel better, he was focused on her ass. The fact that he’s lusting after a girl his brother is sleeping with is gross. Will he ever see me as anything other than the awkward fourteen-year-old with braces I was when we met?
I’m saved from having to reply by the arrival of my friend Peyton and her boyfriend, Wyatt. They met this time last year when I moved into her dorm room, and even though we all thought she hated him, and all of us, they ended up together. Wyatt’s a sweet guy and he deserves a girl who will stand by him. Peyton’s that girl, even though none of us thought she would be. She came off as cold and incapable of feelings when I first met her, and I thought I would be miserable spending an entire semester rooming with her. Luckily, the attitude was just a wall to keep people out. A wall Wyatt quickly knocked down. She’s now one of my best friends, and they live together off-campus. She slips into the empty seat beside me; her fingers entwined with Wyatt’s as she studies my face.
“Is everything okay?” she asks gently. When I only shrug, she cocks her blond head to one side and locks eyes with mine. “What’d I miss?”
I wave off her concern, not wanting to talk about Clay and his asshole-ness any more. I don’t quite achieve the breeziness I’m going for when I tell her, “Nothing, just Clay being himself.”
“Ah,” she says knowingly. “I should have known. Ignore the asshat. We’re here to have fun before classes start back up.” Twisting her slim body, she says something to Wyatt too low for me to hear. He smiles down at her before nodding. Peyton touches her mouth to his briefly before standing. She grabs my hand, pulling me out of my seat, and leads me onto the dance floor.
Between the crush of bodies around us, the club mixes of popular songs, and the way the bass line resonates in my chest, I can’t think. It’s a good thing though, and I’m instantly glad Peyton dragged me out here. We move our hips to the music, laughing and twirling around, ignoring all the people crowding us. There should be a limit to how many people can be on a dance floor at one time.
In just a few minutes, I’m concentrating only on my movements and the lyrics to the songs the DJ is playing, not the comments made by a jerk.
My hands travel up my body to the back of my neck, where I run my fingers through hair I spent more time on than I’d like to admit, shaking it out and moving it away from where the long strands are sticking to my skin before I raise both arms in the air. I’m dancing beside my best friend and just enjoying what will probably be my last night out before classes start Monday.
Strange hands grip my hips as the next song begins. A body moves against my back, moving me with it, and rocking our bodies together. Wyatt comes up behind Peyton, bringing his arms around her and lowering his mouth to her shoulder as she drops her head back to rest on his. She turns her head to the side, giving him better access to her skin and I feel like a voyeur. I don’t know why I’m watching, but I can’t take my eyes off of them.
Then, a mouth touches my skin, and my eyes widen. I don’t even know who’s behind me, and I was so enthralled by the two people dancing in front of me that I zoned out. It’s not a smart thing to do. Grabbing the stranger’s arms, I attempt to push away from him, but his hands tighten on my hips, and he pulls me closer so my entire body is flush with his. Feeling the length of him against the small of my back, I struggle harder. Turning my head, I see a flash of green eyes and sandy blond hair. The face is unfamiliar, and his grin isn’t the least bit friendly. It’s predatory. A shiver runs down my spine. We’re touching everywhere. My discomfort is noticeable, and his grin widens. He moves his face closer to mine, his intention clear, and I freeze. He’s holding me so tightly I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow. The last thing I want is his tongue in my mouth.
I’m just beginning to panic when rough hands jerk me out of his embrace, and the familiar scent of Clay’s cologne hits my nose. Then a hard body steps between me and Mr. Way-Too-Touchy. All I can see are Clay’s broad shoulders. The music and voices of the people around us are too loud for me to make out what he’s saying, but his body is taut. Clay’s muscles ripple beneath his black t-shirt as he pushes Mr. WTT further away from me. I stare at them, entranced, when a hand grips my shoulder and pulls me out of the way. Clay stumbles into the spot where I had just been standing. I look up to see Wyatt watching the two guys push up into each other’s faces, WTT with a red, angry face and Clay vibrating with a familiar pissed off energy.
My eyes beg Wyatt to stop this, but he ignores me, placing one hand on the small of Peyton’s back and gesturing for me to walk farther away from the altercation on the dance floor. We don’t get very far before Clay’s fist hits the side of WTT’s face, snapping it to the side and causing spit and blood to fly out of his mouth. He makes a taunting gesture, his hands pointing to himself, practically begging the handsy guy to take a swing back. The guy does, but Clay is faster, his head snapping back. The guy misses. I’m mesmerized by the show, watching them beat on each other while Clay … what? Protects my honor? I’m not sure, but it’s hot as hell.
Wait. What the hell? Shut up, Kat! It’s not hot. It’s Neanderthal. I back away slowly as they continue to beat on each ot
her, my heart racing and my hands clammy. We make it back to the table, and I’m even more surprised to see that no one is paying attention to what’s happening on the dance floor.
Max and Liam talk animatedly while Livvie and Emmett have their heads close together, both their faces somber. Two of the other guys suck face with random girls completely oblivious to the brawl, while another is tapping away on his phone. I want to scream at them, to point out that Clay is kicking some guy’s ass while they are engrossed in their dull little worlds.
Before I can say anything, or get anyone’s attention, Clay storms up beside me, and I face forward, reluctant to look up at him. Grabbing me by the arm, he jerks me around so we’re face-to-face. He towers over me, his chest heaving, sweat rolling down the side of his face as he gets closer to mine. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and he’s pissed. “What the fuck were you doing out there, Kat?” My name sounds like a curse word on his lips, and all I can do is gape at him. He seems to get angrier when I don’t reply. Gripping both my arms, he gives me a little shake like he’s trying to get my attention; not realizing I can’t look away from him.
“W-w-w-what?” I stutter, unsure what he’s asking.
His next words are a growl. “You fucking froze. Do you know what happens to little girls that freeze up when some asshole puts their hands on them?” Wait … What? He’s mad … at me? I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything wrong. I know I didn’t. Did I?
Wyatt says something in a low voice, trying to calm Clay down, but Clay’s eyes never leave mine. We stare into each other’s eyes, not even blinking. Suddenly he jerks away from me, turning in the opposite direction, and gripping his hair with his hands.
He takes deep breaths, visibly trying to calm himself down before he faces me again. When he turns back to me, his expression is no less volatile than it had been before, but his chest is no longer heaving. I brace myself, thinking he’s going to yell at me some more, tell me what an idiot I am, but he doesn’t speak. After glaring at me for several beats, he finally shakes his head and stalks off, leaving me to stare in shock at his back as he walks away.
Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) Page 1