BAD BOY ROMANCE: A Wifey for the Bad Boy (Contemporary Alpha Male Romance Book) (New Adult Alpha Male Romance Short Stories)

by Ava May

  “Where were you?!” he howled.

  Melinda screamed, falling back against the stairs and instinctively covering her chest. She shook violently as her widened eyes stared at Travis, who was swaying in their kitchenette. She breathed, “Travis, you scare—”

  “Where were you?!” he repeated, his legs wobbling as he made his sluggish way over to her.

  She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Good God, you’re drunk.” She rubbed at the aching flesh over her heart. “Is that what you’ve been doing tonight? I thought you had to work.”

  “Answer me,” he said, grabbing her arms and squeezing tightly.

  “Ow!” Melinda winced, pulling against his grip. “You’re hurting me.”

  “You cheating on me?”

  “What?”

  He shook her, his face twisting into an ugly expression of fury. “You cheating on me?! While I work for you?!”

  “No! Let go of me!” She grabbed his wrists and nearly managed to pull him off of her. His nails dug into her skin though, preventing her from escaping fully. “Travis, stop it.” Panic took hold of her once again, making her cold and sick while pain burned beneath the new scratches on her arms. “Please.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “No, I’m not!”

  He shoved her against the staircase, her back landing at an excruciating angle. She bit back a cry, her limbs already scrambling for purchase on the uneven ground. The only thought running through her brain was “run, run, run.”

  “I saw you,” Travis said, slobbering over the words. He grabbed her again and yanked her down. “I saw you at the bar!”

  “I wasn’t at the bar! You’re drunk!”

  “Don’t lie to me!” He smacked her across the face.

  Melinda’s cheek and eyes stung, disbelief numbing her. How could she have let her life become such a mess? She never thought herself foolish before, just adventurous. Trembling now, trapped in Travis’s clutches, self-loathing choked her as fear shattered her temporary numbness. God, she was a moron for letting this happen. She was—

  “Hey! Get off of her!”

  Melinda tensed, her gaze snapping upward. The words had been roared from the top of the stairs, and now she could see some large person hurrying down them.

  “Make me!” Travis sneered, right before the person—Mr. Kane—leaped from the stairs and tackled Travis to the ground.

  Melinda gasped, falling to the side and hitting her elbow on a step. Forgetting about her own pain, she blinked owlishly at the sight before her: Mr. Kane and Travis were punching one another, though Mr. Kane was moving more quickly and more precisely than Travis. It didn’t take long for Mr. Kane to strike the winning blow to the other man’s throat.

  Travis grabbed his throat, his eyes wide and pink. He wheezed and backed away.

  Mr. Kane panted. His broad shoulders were tensed, his hands curled into fists. “Get out,” he growled, stepping toward Travis. “And don’t you dare come back.”

  Melinda shakily got to her feet and skittered away from the staircase. Her eyes glued to Travis, she watched as he defiantly stared back at her landlord. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Travis continued the fight, but a rare sense of wisdom seemed to have gotten the better of him. Awkwardly, he hissed at Mr. Kane before limping over to the staircase, and then going up it.

  He didn’t spare one glance at Melinda, and that was fine by her. She would never even be comfortable breathing the same air as that jackass again.

  When Travis slammed the door shut, she flinched.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Kane asked her.

  Melinda forced herself to breathe slowly, though she couldn’t get her heart rate to slow down any. “Yes,” she said, nodding at him. “Thank you. That was…”

  “Necessary,” he said. “Will you be moving out, too?”

  “Oh…do I have to?”

  “No. I just need to know if you are.”

  “Oh.” She licked her lips and tried to think past her frazzled nerves. “Well, no, I’m not. But I’ll need to get a job soon to pay for the rent.”

  “Makes sense.” He walked up to her, his gaze full of intensity as he focused on her face.

  After everything that had just happened, Melinda had no idea what to make of his behavior. She merely remained still as he came to stop right in front of her, his fingers ghosting over her heated face. She shivered in response, her heart fluttering.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said softly.

  She jumped, her eyes widening. Without thinking, she brought her hand up to her face—where he was nearly touching her cheek. She bumped his hand away and felt moisture stick to her fingertips.

  “I must have landed harder on the stairs than I thought,” she whispered, turning to blink at the stairs. She hadn’t felt herself get cut at all. And though she knew the laceration was there, she still couldn’t feel its sting.

  “I’ll clean you up,” Mr. Kane said. She tapped her elbow for an awkward few seconds before he headed up the stairs. “Follow me.”

  Prodding her bleeding cheek, she didn’t hesitate to do as he instructed. Now that she had seen him basically save her life, whatever creepy aura he had when she first met him was completely gone; she felt no qualms in trusting him for the moment.

  The trip to his room was a solemn and quiet one, but it gave her a chance to further calm herself. By the time he was instructing her to sit on the edge of his bed, it was easy to breathe once again. She even dared to smile.

  “How did you know I needed help?” she called to him as he fished for a medical kit in the bathroom. “Did you follow me after our little…discussion earlier?”

  He said nothing, and she heard open up a box of some kind and sort through it.

  “Do you have super-hearing?” she said jokingly.

  With a large bandage and a bottle of ointment in one hand, he walked out of the bathroom. He smirked at her as he approached. “You could say that. My ears have always been rather sensitive.” He slowly sat beside her and placed his items in between them. “I just came down to make sure you were wrong about an intruder being in your place.”

  “Thank God,” she said, trying to sound amused again but failing miserably. She cleared her throat and blinked hard a few times. “Thank you.”

  “You already said that.” He spread some of the ointment over the tips of his fingers before dabbing the stuff on her cheek. “This will hurt a little.”

  It burned like hell, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming obscurities at her hero.

  “It could have been a ghost,” she breathed as he capped the bottle.

  “It was not a ghost.”

  “How could you be so sure? Especially since you believe in ghosts?”

  He unwrapped the large bandage before gently pressing its sticking end against her burning cheek. His lips quirked upward as he said, “I have lived here for over a decade now. If this place was haunted, I would have realized it by now. I may be dense at times, but I’m not THAT dense.”

  His fingers remained pressed over the bandage, the pressure soothing the pain somehow.

  Melinda’s eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. “You’re not dense.”

  Mr. Kane hummed thoughtfully at that, but said nothing more for a long while.

  They remained like that for some time, and while his close presence and touch was making Melinda’s skin tingle, she also felt relaxed. It was like standing on the edge of a waterfall and staring at all of the beauty and danger of the surrounding wilderness.

  “You asleep?”

  Melinda snorted, smiling. “No. I can’t fall asleep sitting up.”

  “It’d be a useful skill for me.”

  “Useful? How?”

  He retracted his hand, making her open her eyes. For a second, she swore she saw something soft in his expression…like fondness or affection. But then he scowled and stood up. “Would you like me to walk you to your room?”

  Her stomach twisted at the idea of
being in that room again; it made her forget her earlier question. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  He shook his head.

  Withholding a sigh, she stood up and followed him. She knew she was going to have to back to that room eventually; it’s not like she had anywhere else to go.

  “Thank you again, Mr. Kane,” she said as they walked. “I don’t think I can say that enough.”

  He bellowed out a breath, sounding more exasperated than anything else. Without glancing back at her, he said, “Call me Andrew.”

  Chapter Three

  The following days weren’t nearly as stressful as Melinda had thought they would be. Although the basement-room still perturbed her from time to time, the incident with Travis didn’t haunt her or humiliate her. With hindsight giving her a sense of wisdom, she knew she didn’t do anything wrong—couldn’t have predicted Travis being that kind of person. She had done the best that she could—took some risks along the way—and shit happened. That was that.

  “How many other people live here?” she asked Andrew as she stared out his room’s window. “I never see anyone when I’m coming up here to visit with you.”

  “Why do you keep doing that, by the way?” He was in his kitchenette, and he was munching on some crackers. And, as always, he was glaring. “I don’t invite you, and I have a lot of things to do.”

  Personally, she wasn’t really sure why she kept bothering Andrew. She knew she should go into town and look for a job, but she had been lonely for such a long time and Andrew was…well, he was there. And there was something comfortable about him, despite his gruff behavior.

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said, her stern tone covering her embarrassment and uncertainty. She glanced over at him. “Do you not have any other tenants?”

  “Besides you, I have four.” Andrew took a large bite from his sandwich, a dab of mustard smearing over the corner of his lips. “They’re private. People who live in Alaska are private.” He motioned his sandwich toward her like he was trying to flip her off with it. “God only knows why that’s any of your business though.”

  She crossed her arms and held her head high. “I happen to be interested about people.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they each have their own stories, their own perceptions—things that make you think about yourself in a different light and make you feel like you are part of the human race.”

  He blinked, incredulous. Then he swallowed the remnants of his bite. “You don’t know that you’re part of the human race?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned to the window. “You know what I mean.”

  “I really don’t.”

  “You want to go on a walk with me?”

  Andrew choked—on his spit or on his sandwich, Melinda didn’t know and she didn’t care. Her own bout of shock was making her stiff, her eyes wide. She hadn’t meant to say those words aloud, even though staring at the beautiful scenery had sprouted the idea in her head a couple of days ago.

  “What?” Andrew said, coughing wetly.

  Her face warmed. She opened her mouth to take back the request—her gaze still on the scenery outside—and she hesitated before shrugging. “Yeah. Why not? Go on a walk with me.”

  His face was screwed in a look of disbelief and sheer confusion. “Why?”

  “You know this area,” she said slowly, giving him a pointed glare. “And I would like to see this area. And if I go out by myself, I could get mauled by a bear.”

  “How could I prevent you from getting mauled by a bear?”

  Frustrated, she let out a breathy groan. “Fine, fine, don’t go. I’ll just stay here and we can keep conversing like this. I’m sure looking at the forest is better than being in it, anyway.” She loosened the tension in her shoulders and stretched. Disappointment pricked the back of her mind, but she chose to ignore it. “So have you ever been camping out there?”

  Andrew, finishing off the last of his sandwich, walked to his front door.

  “Really?” she snapped. “You’re going to ditch me in your own place? What do you have to do this very second that is so important?” She cocked an eyebrow at his retreating form and placed her hands on her hips.

  He turned to her and furrowed his brow. After he swallowed down all of his food, he said, “I thought you wanted to go for a walk.” He tilted his head toward the door.

  She blushed, her face going slack. “Oh…okay.” Mortified, she hurried forward and out of his apartment. She was relieved to hear him follow her.

  It was so cold that it hurt to breathe, but the peaceful, quiet surroundings soothed an ache in her soul that she never realized she had. She was torn between wanting to go back inside or remaining outside forever. Her gaze wandered over the thin pine trees, the sound of her boots crunching against the snow and pine needles piercing the air. She forced herself to inhale, and it felt as if ice had burst inside her lungs.

  “I’m from Seattle,” she told Andrew, who walked beside her. “And I liked it there, but it was never so…it never gets like this, you know?”

  “Too noisy?”

  “All the time, yeah.” She turned to him, and she was surprised to see him watching her. “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘what?’ You were talking, and I was listening.” He huffed, shaking his head. For a second, it looked like he was grimacing, excepting that the corner of his lips was turning upward. “You’re a strange one.”

  Warmth bloomed beneath her breastbone. “That sounds like a compliment.”

  His cheeks turned a shade redder, and he glanced away. “I guess.”

  “You’re being nice to me—in a kind of messed up way, but it’s still sweet.” Grinning, she playfully bumped against him. “You like me.”

  He looked back at her and narrowed his gaze. His cheeks were still red. “What makes you say that?”

  “You let me spend time with you,” she said, “even though you claim you don’t want me to.”

  He pouted out his lips and shrug. “Maybe I’m just trying to be nice.”

  She laughed. “You?”

  “I can be nice!”

  She brought her gloved hand to her mouth, laughter still bursting from it. Amusement coursed through her, and for a second, she couldn’t speak. The cold, her laughter—it was too much for her lungs.

  “Fine,” Andrew said, stretching out the word in one long, exasperated breath. “I don’t like being nice.”

  “You don’t say,” she managed to pant out, her giggles finally ebbing away. She rubbed the pleasant ache from her chest.

  “You…” He licked his lips, his gaze darting over the ground. “You make me want to be nice, sometimes. That’s all.”

  She nearly cooed, but luckily, her shock got the better of her. She stopped. “Really?”

  A few steps ahead of her, he stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head or anything.”

  “How can I not? That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He groaned, tilting his head back as he rolled his eyes. “Your life must be sad.”

  She smirked. Amused, touched, and feeling very daring, she took one slow step toward him and fluttered her eyelids. “It was until I met a handsome fella like you.” She giggled, suddenly feeling giddy and light-headed.

  Andrew blushed. His eyes wide and full of uncertainty, he stuttered out some garbled noises.

  It was adorable. Her heart warmed at the sight, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She had never met a man like Andrew before, and she had never expected to care about someone as gruff and tactless as he was. But now, standing in the icy air, she wanted nothing more than to feel him all over her.

  “That’s sexy,” she said as Andrew continued to stutter out gibberish. She meant the words to sound teasing, but the moment she said them, heat flared inside her lower belly; it sent a pleasant shiver through her flesh.

  Andrew must have been affected by her words, too, for he went quiet and his eyes darken
ed. His mouth still hanging open, he panted out little warm clouds past his reddened lips.

  She was staring at his lips when he moved forward, grabbed her face, and kissed her. She gasped, not realizing that they were moving backwards until her back hit a slanted tree. Everything was moving so quickly—his tongue licking at her teeth, his hands trailing over her body, his thigh pressing in between her quivering legs. Her mind struggled to process everything at once, even as her legs spread apart on their own accord. Lust pulsated through her in hot waves, and she whimpered with the overwhelming desire it created within her.

  Andrew growled in response. Panting against her neck, he grabbed the waistline of her pants and panties and tugged aggressively until they came sliding down.

  The cold zapped through her skin in violent quivers, the threat of numbness—of hypothermia—blaring in her mind. But, God help her, it made her core feel all the hotter and the wetter. She could feel it throb and moisten, aching with the need to be filled.

  “Andrew,” she whimpered, arching to him. “Please, please.”

  He scraped his teeth over her neck, pressing torso against hers as he tugged down his own pants and underwear. Feeling him move against her—undress against her—made her squirm and moan.

  “Hurry, please,” she whined, rubbing against him to create what little friction she could. She had never felt hotter or more desperate in her life. She was on the verge of coming already, and he hadn’t even touched her where she needed him to. “Andrew.”

  Melinda gasped when she felt him begin to push his way inside her wet folds. Once he had the tip of his member inside her, he shoved and gyrated the rest of himself deeper and deeper. It sent stabs of pain and pleasure through her entire body, and a wet cry burst from her throat. There was no rhythm to his movement as he pumped himself in and out of her—hitting her at all kinds of angles.

  She clawed into his clothed back and moved with him as best as she could. It was a twisting kind of heat, one she wanted more of and one she had had enough of. Tears poured from her eyes, and her cries turned into breathy moans the longer Andrew continued.