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Confused #1 (Confused Romance Series - book#1)

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by Oliver Cooper




  Confused # 1

  Book 1 : Confused Romance Series

  By Amanda Lynne

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Amanda Lynne

  Please be noted that this series contain Cliffhanger at the end of each book

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  Read Confused # 1 (Book #1) Here

  Read Confused # 2 (Book #2) Here

  Read Confused # 3 (Book #3) Here

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  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Confused # 1

  Book 1 : Confused Romance Series

  Prologue

  “Amy Weller, do I have to drag you out of there?”

  My roommate’s question, and her accompanying knock, made me look up from the clothes I’d laid out on my bed. One glance at the clock on the bedside table told me that time had gotten away from me, and I immediately felt a stab of guilt. I had promised Michelle that I’d go out with her tonight: the Myrmidons, a new band she was raving about, were playing at a nearby pub. And now I had only half an hour to get ready.

  It was entirely my fault. I’d been dragging my feet all evening, finding excuses to delay my preparations. Though I’d already given Michelle my word, I still wasn’t sure if this girls’ night out was a good idea.

  “Amy!” she called again, rapping on my door with increased urgency. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to go!”

  And that was the problem. I did want to go. I had no idea who the Myrmidons were outside of Greek mythology (all I knew for certain was that their drummer was in Michelle’s evolutionary biology class and she desperately wanted to get to know him better), but I badly wanted to do something fun for once. If it were up to me, I’d be dragging Michelle to every concert, party, and poetry reading in the immediate vicinity of our college until we collapsed from exhaustion, alcohol poisoning, or both. But the matter was out of my hands.

  My college education depended on my ability to stay in my parents’ good graces, and I was pretty sure they wouldn’t approve of tonight’s little outing. They were paying my tuition, and their conditions for doing so were worse than any scholarship board’s requirements. The need for good grades went without saying, but I also had to text my Mom every night, call my Dad at 8 PM every Wednesday, and drive all the way back home every single Sunday for a family dinner. On top of that, partying was strictly forbidden, as well as any extracurricular activities beyond the school paper and the student council (neither of which tickled my fancy). The one thing they didn’t explicitly ban was my love life, but with all the restrictions already in place, they really didn’t have to bother. Just a few weeks into my first year, I acquired a reputation for being boring, and boys only talked to me when they wanted to borrow a pen. Things weren’t shaping up to be any different this year.

  I opened the door for Michelle. “You know I’m up for it,” I said as she breezed into my room like a whirlwind in high heels. She was already dressed for a night out on the town. “It’s just…”

  “Your ball and chain, I know.” Michelle tossed her short hair (it was red this week), and made a face at me. “That really sucks.”

  “Tell me about it.” I eyed my roommate’s electric blue dress with considerable envy. Unlike her, I didn’t have much in the way of party clothes. I’d opted to wear my nice pair of jeans and my newest sensible boots, and was still trying to decide on a top.

  While I went back to contemplating my clothing options, Michelle decided that she would tell me about it. “You’ve been here for two years,” she said, “and you’ve been to only one party. One.”

  “And that was the one my department threw to welcome the new undergrads.” I wrinkled my nose at the memory. I’d met some really nice people at that event, but the strongest drink there had been apple cider.

  “So it’s really important for you to get to another one as soon as possible. I kind of feel responsible for making that happen.”

  “That’s really sweet of you,” I said, laughing. I reached for a red shirt, thinking that it looked festive enough.

  “No way. You’re wearing this one,” said Michelle, holding up a black satin top. It was low cut and sleeveless, and the soft material draped over my curves in the most flattering way. Unable to pass up something that looked that good on me, I’d bought it months ago, but I hadn’t had the chance to wear it yet. This seemed to be the perfect time to break it in.

  “Okay.” I grinned as I took the blouse from her. “We’re going to have the best night ever.”

  I wasn’t wrong. The Myrmidons turned out to be a lively indie band, and their unusual techno-folk tunes had the entire pub on its feet. It took me a while to loosen up, but there was dancing, and flirting, and more brightly colored cocktails than I cared to count…

  I just wish I could remember more of it. To be more precise, I wish I could remember exactly how I ended up in bed with an absolutely gorgeous stranger.

  Chapter 1

  The morning sunlight on my face woke me up, and I instantly knew I wasn’t in my room. Hell, I wasn’t even in my apartment! The rooms Michelle and I shared had west-facing windows. I blinked my eyes open and what I saw only confirmed this. I was lying on a bed with dark blue sheets (I only ever used white or cream-colored ones) in a room filled with a very masculine mess (my own sleeping space is tidy to a fault, and I’m pretty sure I don’t use Old Spice), and it was definitely somewhere I’d never been before.

  Last night must have gone better than I thought.

  That was my cue to bask in the happy haze of a good morning after, but as much as I wanted to spend another 15 minutes grinning sleepily at the ceiling, I couldn’t. Your parents aren’t supposed to be the first thing you think about after a one night stand, but that’s where my brain went.

  So long as I didn’t tell them anything, they wouldn’t find out that I’d hooked up with a stranger, and I was definitely going to keep mum about this little frolic. No, my main problem was that I’d hooked up with a stranger at a very public event. The Myrmidons were bound to at least post pictures of their gig, and their drummer knew Michelle – what if they tagged her in one of those photos? And what if I was with her in those pictures?

  The mere fact that I’d been out drinking would spell certain death for my college education, but God only knew what I’d gotten up to at the pub. I certainly didn’t remember. There might very well be pictures of me being drunk and disorderly with whoever owned the bed I was in right now, and if those existed, they’d get me disowned. I didn’t actually think my parents were snooping around on social media to spy on me through my friends, but I wouldn’t put it past them.

  Damage control, I thought. Must do damage control.

  The first thing I needed to do was find Michelle. From her, I could find out exactly what had gone down last night, and, once I had that information, I could make the appropriate plans. Like whether or not I should flee the country and try to make a living reciting 15th century Latin by the side of the road.

  A soft sound beside me jerked me out of my less than pleasant musings. I turned my head on the pillow to see what had made it, and all my worries about my parents evaporated in a puff of pleasantly surprised desire. Sprawled next to me, asleep on top of the sheets, was the most gorg
eous man I’d ever seen in my life.

  I’m not exaggerating. He was what you’d get if you rolled Brad Pitt and Clark Gable into one, with a generous helping of David Beckham on the side. His hair was a rich, deep brown, the curls tousled from sleep and sex, and his face was the kind that inspired sonnets and songs and epic poetry. I couldn’t see what color his eyes were, but his dark lashes were long (an unfair trait for a man to have when girls like me had to struggle with false eyelashes and mascara), and you could have cut diamonds with those cheekbones. He was also stark naked.

  I lifted my head up from the pillow and stared openly (the guy was asleep, he wouldn’t mind). Every inch of his perfect body was beautifully tanned, and I truly mean every inch. Most boys have tan lines where their shorts or briefs cover their privates when they bask in the sun or on the tanning bed, but my guy – if I could think of him that way – was golden brown all the way down to the V of his groin and his dark thatch of pubic hair.

  I realized just where I was looking and blushed. For the last couple of seconds, I’d been staring fixedly at a sleeping man’s cock! I couldn’t truly blame myself, though. His penis was just like the rest of him: mouth-watering and pretty damn big. In fact, it seemed to be growing beneath my gaze. I hurriedly looked back up at the ceiling, suddenly embarrassed because I’d witnessed what was probably the beginning of his morning wood.

  The idea of his waking up to find me practically drooling after his hard-on didn’t appeal to me, so I decided that it was time to get up, get dressed and get out of there – maybe after leaving a thank-you note for him to find. I peeked under the blanket to assess the situation and found that I didn’t have a stitch on either. Well, we were a pair.

  Our similarity ended with the nudity, though. I know I’m pretty enough, but I also knew that my level of attractiveness didn’t even begin to approach that of the godlike creature whose bed I’d just rolled out of. He was so beautiful that I knew I’d never have worked up the courage to even approach him in my normal state – I must have been so smashed out of my mind last night. I didn’t know whether I ought to congratulate myself on my extreme good luck, or start to count the seconds till this guy threw me out once he realized he’d hooked up with an inferior being.

  I was utterly self-conscious of my bare back and buttocks as I picked through the clutter, looking for my clothes. My pink bra was easy to find, but the rest of my ensemble was more difficult to locate. My slinky black top was lost amongst the multitude of other slinky black items of clothing (visions of a whole lot of other girls losing their slinky black tops in this bedroom danced through my head), and the situation was even worse for my jeans. There were jeans everywhere. And I had no idea where to start looking for my thong.

  Biting my lip, I slipped the straps of my bra onto my shoulders. It wasn’t much but I wanted to get at least some cover while I continued my search. I was struggling with the clasp behind my back when a deep voice rough with sleep said, “Good morning, Amy.”

  I yelped and clutched my bra to my chest. My gorgeous stranger was awake!

  Cautiously, I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, and what I saw made my heart speed up like a robber’s getaway car. I didn’t know how it was possible, but he was even more beautiful awake and moving than he had been asleep. He’d rolled over onto his side to watch me in a position very much like one of those reclining Buddha statues, only infinitely more erotic. His skin practically glowed golden in the morning sunshine, and that same light highlighted the contours of his muscled chest, his arms, his stomach – holy hell, he was fit and toned all over!

  “Hey,” I said. It was all I could manage once I realized that, although he’d called me by name, I didn’t know his. One of my hands flew to cover my crotch, while the other one supported the unfastened bra that was practically hanging on my nipples.

  He noticed my skittishness and laughed. “No need to be shy,” he said. “I saw a lot more than that last night.”

  “Did you, now?”I murmured, turning to face him but unable to meet his eyes. Now that they were open, I could see that they were the color of chocolate dipped in honey, and it would have been all too easy to get lost in the warm depths of his gaze.

  “Oh yeah.” He grinned at me, playful and lascivious at once.

  I blushed to the roots of my hair, and spread my fingers a bit wider to give my groin a little more cover. As I said, I like to party, but having your proclivities brought up in the cold light of day is kind of unnerving.

  “Okay,” I stammered. “Great. Glad we had fun. Just give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  The man (‘godlike creature’, supplied my brain automatically) swung his legs off of the bed to get into a sitting position. Unless I was very much mistaken, there was genuine concern in the look he was giving me.

  “Hey, don’t rush out on my account,” he said. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”

  My ears pricked up. An invitation to breakfast? Thanks to my parents’ restrictions, I didn’t have much experience with one night stands, but from what I understood, they usually ended with a walk of shame, not waffles with bacon on the side. Last night must have gone very well indeed.

  “Or at least a glass of milk. Or water, even,” continued the godlike creature when I didn’t answer. “You must be thirsty after all that fun we had.”

  I am very bad at saying no, and I’m even worse at saying no to breakfast. It’s my favorite meal of the day, and everyone who knows me knows that I’m not properly myself until I’ve had a bowl of oatmeal, half a grapefruit, and at least one cup of coffee. I took a couple of seconds to assess my situation: I didn’t have classes this morning, I was hungry – famished, even – and staying for the meal would give me more time with this man. What’s more, it would be time that I’d remember.

  “Breakfast sounds good,” I said, smiling. For the first time, I noticed that he was looking at my face as he spoke to me, despite the fact that I was as good as naked. My posture relaxed as the tension went out of me.

  “Great,” he said with an answering grin that revealed perfect white teeth. “But it’ll have to be toast and scrambled eggs. That’s all I can make.”

  “That’ll be perfect,” I assured him. I wasn’t lying. The only thing that could possibly make it better was if he cooked it wearing nothing but an apron.

  Chapter 2

  Sadly, I didn’t get to watch him cook. He made breakfast, presumably dressed, while I was having a quick shower, and by the time I padded out of the bathroom wearing the T-shirt he’d lent me, the food was arranged on plates in the dining area of his apartment’s main room. When he saw me, he smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “I put some cheese in the eggs,” he explained, standing up to pull a chair out for me. “I hope you’re not lactose intolerant. Or vegetarian.Or a Vegan. Oh God,” he said, giving the meal a panicked look. “You’re not a Vegan, are you? I can go get you something else if you’re a Vegan.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, laughing, looking up at him from my seat. I had to stretch my neck to do that, he was that tall. “I mean, it’s something I’ve thought about, but right now, I’ll eat anything.”

  “Oh good.” It was cute that he was so obviously relieved. “Orange juice?” he offered, holding up a carton.

  “Yes please.” I held out my glass to him. “Thanks – er, this is really embarrassing, but I don’t think I caught your name.”

  This admission of ignorance didn’t faze him as much I feared it would. All he did was give me a friendly, knowing smirk as he sat across from me at the small table. “I’m Nick,” he said. “Nick Gadeyne.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” I offered him my hand, glad to finally be able to put a name to that gorgeous face. “I’m Amy Weller.”

  Nick’s golden brown eyes danced with laughter as he shook my hand. “So you said when I met you. I guess I have you at a disadvantage.”

  “Oh dear.” I didn’t have to fake my dismay,
though I did try to hide it behind a slice of toast. “What else did I say?”

  “Let me think.” Nick’s perfect brow furrowed in concentration. “You told me you were a humanities undergrad, that you were going to take me home and ‘demolish’ me – your word, not mine – and that you’d just had the best lay of your life.”

  “Did I really?” I squeaked, forcing myself to concentrate on the eggs on my plate.

  “That’s what you said.”

  I let out a horrible involuntary squeak. I wasn’t usually that forward! And I’d had the best lay of my life with the hottest man on the planet, but I couldn’t remember a single detail of it? That was just too tragic to contemplate!

  “So you know about me,” I said, resting my right elbow on the table and my chin on my hand. I badly needed to think about something other than all the things that should be filling the gaps in my brain, so I went for the most obvious topic. “What do I need to know about you?”

  “There’s not much to know.” He shrugged. “I was at college for a while, but I had to stop. Right now, I’m working at a bar, trying to save up so I can go back to school. I want to be an architect. That’s about it.” Suddenly, Nick grinned, fast and wicked, putting his elbow on the table to mirror my position. “And, of course, you were incredible last night.”

  I didn’t know how to take that compliment. Coming from Nick, that was one hell of an ego booster, and maybe I ought to have been proud – imagine, mousy-haired me being praised by a sex god! – but I didn’t remember a second of it.

  If I were a suave seductress, that would have been my cue to suggest that Nick might want to find out if I was incredible in the morning, but that just wasn’t me. Though I dearly wanted to ask for a kiss, for a touch, for another round of sex, I didn’t even know how to begin asking for it short of dropping to my knees and begging. So all I managed to say was, “I hope we didn’t bother your roommate.”

 

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