British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 11

  “What are Elizabeth’s flaws, then?” Dr. Feldman asked him.

  “She’s defensive—because of her family—and it affects her relationship with Darcy. She assumes he’s a rich arsehole when he’s actually in love with her.”

  “You seem to have a grasp on the entire novel, yet you didn’t read the assignment.” Her high heels clacked over to the front row so she could peer more closely at him. “Explain yourself.”

  “I’ve read it several times, Dr. Feldman, just not recently, and I was in the process of explaining when you interrupted me.” He paused. “Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite books. My mum read it to me when I was a kid. She was a huge romantic … and perhaps I am as well.”

  Girls swooned. Literally. I could hear them, melting in their seats as his softly rounded vowels washed over them.

  I wasn’t too far behind them. Heck, I’d already pictured us lying in a pile of old books, stark naked and smoking a satisfying cigarette after boinking each other’s brains out.

  Lorna clapped daintily, her eyes enraptured by Declan’s question-answering skills. I rolled my eyes.

  “So awesome,” she whispered to him. “I’ll have to read it for sure now.”

  Feldman studied him, and I thought I detected a little bit of swoon in her expression too. “I look forward to calling on you again. Please be seated.”

  After class finished, I turned to a glum Blake, whose hair was standing up everywhere from raking his hands through it. “Shit, this class is killer. There’s no way I can do it.”

  “You’re dropping my dream class?” I patted his hair down, some of the earlier weirdness fading.

  He sighed and stood. “Yep. I’m heading over to the registrar’s to take care of it. See you at lunch?” He fidgeted, waiting for me to reply.

  “Sure.” I couldn’t say no.

  We made plans to meet later, and he headed down the stairs and out the door.

  I gathered my notebook and pens with a grin. Even though Feldman was tough as nails, I was excited about digging into this class.

  Plus Declan was here. But he’s trouble, remember? a voice in my head reminded me.

  “You’re a weird chick. You act like this class was fun,” Dax said as he watched me gather my things.

  “True,” I said.

  He laughed, and with Declan and Lorna trailing behind us, we headed for the exit.

  We all came to a rather odd standstill outside the auditorium. No one seemed to know what to say next except for Lorna, who apparently knew both brothers well and kept the conversation going.

  She looped her arm with Declan’s. “You wanna go back to your place and study later?”

  She may have liked Blake at one point, but I got the distinct impression she’d switched over to Declan.

  “Study is apparently code for let’s have sex,” I whispered to Dax, who smirked.

  “You look awesome today, by the way,” Lorna said, continuing her flattery of Declan as she reached up to brush imaginary lint off his shirt.

  Ugh. Enough.

  I didn’t want to watch this, and I came to a rapid decision.

  I turned to Dax. “I’m going to grab some lunch at the Student Center at noon with Blake. You want to come?”

  His eyes lit up. “Sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “Hey, you guys want to join us on our date?”

  “Date?” Declan came to attention, and his eyes bounced from me to Dax.

  He nodded. “It appears Miss Bennett has forgiven me for trying to kiss her and has invited me to lunch. Want to join us or do you have awesome plans with Lorna?”

  Declan cracked his neck and stared at us both, his gaze intense as if measuring the situation. “That’s okay. Maybe next time,” he said curtly and stalked off with Lorna half running beside him like a little puppy.

  Pfft.

  Dax watched her ass swing from side to side. “Guess he had plans.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He snorted. “You have to admit. She’s bloody awesome.”

  He looped an arm around me and walked me to my next class.

  14

  On Friday night, I fought a uni boy from Duke called Snake. Matches with Duke boys were packed events since we both had local fans. When I’d come in the warehouse, I’d also noticed a few more suits in the crowd this time, and I figured they were scouting me out for the Yeti fight in a few weeks.

  I took a punch to the gut from him and gasped. People leaned back to get away from me as I stumbled around the warehouse. Some girl yelled in my face for me to get my act together.

  I shook it off and rolled my neck.

  Time to end this fight and start thinking about the next one.

  I rushed at him, my palm strike clipping his shoulder, not the chest like I’d aimed for, yet the hit had enough force that he fell to the ground. He jumped up and barreled back at me, his legs maneuvering a jumping reverse roundhouse kick that I recognized as a Shotokan technique.

  Bam! It was a hell of a move that got me right in the side. I staggered back.

  He grinned as he bounced away from me. “Third degree black belt, asshole.”

  “I’m better, arsehole.”

  Sure, he’d landed a few good hits—the blood that had spurted out of my nose a few punches ago could attest to that. But I had motivation and drive to win, my dream of the gym keeping me swinging.

  I wiped sweat out of my eyes and squared off again. His body was lean and tall with fast reflexes, a testament to his fighting name, and I eyed him carefully, looking for chinks in his armor.

  Earlier, he’d arrived in a Mercedes and had stepped out with a smirk on his face as he’d taken in the surrounding seedy area. A pretty girl had been on each arm as he’d stalked around the street like he owned the place. Cocky bastard.

  I darted in and hit him with a strike to the upper thighs. He grunted and snapped back with a quick two-handed jab. I blocked them with my forearms and retreated, but he followed, still on the offensive, his elbow snapping up to catch my clavicle. I grunted and retaliated with a sideways hammer-fist strike to his gut.

  Whoosh. He bent over gasping.

  He got his breath and came at me again, but I blocked him. He’d grown sluggish, telegraphing his moves big time. He needed more training, and I watched the frustration grow on his face as I played with him, moving in for a quick jab and then bouncing back out of the way.

  He punched at me and I ducked. He swung again, his breath winded.

  That’s right, pretty boy, wear yourself out.

  I bounced around him and smirked.

  “Kick his Dirty English ass, Snake!” one of his friends called out. “I got big money riding on this!”

  “Go back to Duke, you utter twats,” Dax yelled back at them, not to be outdone. Dax’s frat brothers agreed.

  I kicked Snake in the other leg and sent him reeling. He fell against one of the steel columns that supported the warehouse.

  His eyes blinked. Once, twice.

  Shit.

  “You ready to call this?” I panted.

  He grunted, his face set in a grimace as he staggered around me.

  “We can end this right now.”

  “Fuck you,” he said, slinging sweat-soaked hair out of his face.

  “Your funeral,” I said and raised my fists up.

  But Snake was distracted by something in the crowd. I followed his eyes across the warehouse to see him watching one of the girls he’d arrived with. She’d apparently slipped over to a new guy, and they’d moved to an area against a back wall to kiss. Tongue action ensued. Hands rushed and roamed under shirts and down pants. They’d be shagging soon.

  I looked back at my opponent, watching his face redden.

  The bloody wanker was distracted by a girl who obviously didn’t give a shit about him.

  I grunted. Another reason I needed to avoid Elizabeth, I reminded myself.

  “Focus. Let’s do this,” I snapped at Snake with a slap on the upper arm, and he turned
back to face me, eyes wild.

  My words spurred him into action.

  He came at me again, both hands up and ready. With moves faster than I’d anticipated, he landed a strike to my spleen. I stumbled away from him to get my breath back. Fuck. No more trash-talking.

  “Snake! Snake! Snake!” his friends chanted.

  “Dir-ty Eng-lish! Dir-ty Eng-lish!” my side of the room called.

  He inhaled a deep breath and flew at me, but I read his move and turned my body sideways and kicked out in a thrusting, snapping motion, the outside of my right foot aiming for his chest. He went down like a slow-moving boulder, arms splayed out and legs spread as he hit the ground.

  He’d never had a chance with the girl distracting him, although I would have defeated him either way. She just made it quicker.

  He moaned, and I knew he wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

  I walked over to him. Checked his eyes, his breathing.

  “You done?” I asked.

  Glazed eyes looked up at me. “Yeah.”

  I waved for Nick to come and call it. A slick guy who wore a three-piece suit each time I saw him, he’d been setting up street fights in North Carolina for the past two years.

  I looked back at Snake. “Keep a watch on your head, and if you have any headaches, see a doctor.” It went unsaid that he’d have to lie about how he was injured. “And a word of advice, leave the girl at home next time.”

  He groaned and turned away as one of his mates came over and helped him to his feet. They stumbled away from me and out the metal doors.

  Trouble. That’s what girls were, right?

  No way in hell would I ever let a girl distract me.

  I took the cash Nick and Max counted out. This was all that mattered.

  15

  By the end of the first week of school I was back in the routine of going to class, working at the bookstore, and studying like crazy. I was off to a good start except I couldn’t stop thinking about Colby being at Whitman. I looked for him everywhere now. In the grocery. In the parking lot. Outside my door?

  And then there was Karl and my mom. I’d tried to call and text her several times, but she was ignoring me, and I got it. She was angry because I’d gotten upset with her and Karl at the diner. She wanted to use my story to get rich, and no way was I down with that.

  By Sunday night, chocolate ice cream and relaxing were the only two things on my mind when I got home from work.

  And …

  I readily admitted to myself I was jonesing for some English accents, so I kicked my shoes to the floor and snuggled into Granny’s couch for season two of Downton Abbey.

  After eating a giant bowl of Ben & Jerry’s and indulging in two hours of television, I stepped out my balcony door and stood there taking in the soft rain that had begun to fall. I was getting wet, but I didn’t care.

  Dressed in nothing but gym shorts, Declan stepped out onto his balcony. It seemed neither of us minded the weather. Like me, was he thinking of the last time it rained?

  He flexed his hands, loosening the tape around them, his eyes out in the distance as if his thoughts were far away. He hadn’t noticed me, and I eased further back into the shadows, letting my gaze roam over his bare chest, hard biceps, and trim waist.

  Why did one guy have to look so damn good?

  Did he ever wear a shirt?

  I sucked in a sharp breath as I noticed the bruises on his body, one on his shoulder, another on his ribs.

  “I know you’re there,” he said.

  Dammit, there was no escaping him.

  He bent over against the railing, the muscles in his back rippling, eyes still on the horizon.

  And I said nothing, anger pricking at me and I didn’t even know why.

  But I did … we’d spent the night together—albeit platonically—and he’d had a week to knock on my door, and he hadn’t. He’d sat behind me in class all week but had mostly ignored me, sending eye-daggers my way when I joked around with Dax.

  I didn’t understand him.

  And yet I did.

  Both of us were afraid of getting too close.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t blame you for being quiet. I guess you’re a wise girl to keep your distance.” He grunted. “Which is ironic because you’re the dangerous one, Elizabeth.”

  Me? He was the one with the potential to break me into a million pieces.

  He turned to face me, his eyes zeroing in on mine, and I realized I’d walked to the edge of my balcony to be closer to him. He took in my damp nightshirt and bare feet.

  My nipples pressed against the material as if they too wanted to be near him.

  “Dangerous? Please. You’re the one sporting new bruises,” I said.

  He shot me a grin. “I like it when you get feisty.”

  “I know.” My words were quiet, remembering the night in his apartment.

  His gaze brushed over my breasts like a physical touch, desire plainly written on his face.

  I swallowed, feeling the invisible wires that pulled me toward him. I threw caution to the wind.

  “We slept together without having sex. Do you do that often?”

  His eyes smoldered like molten steel. “Never.”

  God, I wanted him. Desperately.

  I clenched my fists. “Goodnight, Declan.”

  “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

  * * *

  “The results are in, and I’m pleased to announce the prom king and queen are Colby Scott and Elizabeth Bennett,” Mr. Brown, Oakmont’s headmaster, announced from the gymnasium stage.

  Elation washed over me in waves.

  At first I couldn’t believe we’d won, but when Colby took my hand to tug me toward the stage, reality set in. This was it.

  Everything I’d ever wanted was right in front of me.

  “Come on. They’re waiting to crown us, babe.” Colby’s white teeth flashed.

  I let him guide me toward the stage, my pink dress sparkling under the mirrored lights as we made our way across the basketball court, passed balloon sculptures and a backdrop featuring a cityscape of Paris. We glided up the steps and toward the center of the stage. Hands from the audience reached out to congratulate us.

  Something was off …

  A crawling sensation scratched at my brain, pricking at me.

  I yanked my hand out of his, but he snatched it back and jerked me flush against his gray suit. “Too late, Elizabeth. This is what you wanted. Don’t deny it.” He kissed me roughly, his hands splayed out across my breasts.

  I fumbled and pushed.

  Slow motion. I couldn’t move.

  Wait. Had I taken something? Was I drunk? What was wrong with me?

  A spotlight hit us. I saw Blake and Shelley. I saw my mother and Karl and Senator Scott, their lips curled in disgust.

  Then we were in the hotel.

  I was on the bed with him between my legs. Jamming into me.

  No, no, no …

  The terror wouldn’t end.

  I fought.

  Stop, stop, stop.

  “Elizabeth, wake up!” Firm hands shook my shoulders.

  No!

  I came awake screaming.

  I scrambled up to the headboard. My eyes bounced around the room.

  My bed. My dresser. My apartment. Declan. Thank God.

  I sucked in a shuddering breath. My hands wiped my eyes, feeling wetness.

  “What happened?” I croaked as I scrubbed my face, trying to clear it.

  He sat on the edge of my bed, and even in the dim light I could see his normally tanned face was white. “I heard you screaming from my room and came in through the balcony after I couldn’t tear down your front door. Thank God your balcony door was open. You were all twisted up in the sheets …” He stopped talking, a muscle working in his jaw.

  I moved closer to his warmth and leaned my head against his shoulder. Inhaled. “You must think I’m a lunatic.”

  He lifted a hand to cup
my head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I bit my lip at his kindness and snuggled into his arms more fully. “No. It—it’s nothing you want to know about. I just need some water.”

  “Okay, I’ll get you some.” He left and went into the kitchen, where I heard him milling around and opening cabinets until he found a glass and filled it. He came back into the bedroom and handed it to me.

  Feeling nervous and just plain old shy, I scrambled to find conversation. “Did you—uh—actually jump to my balcony from yours? Wasn’t that kind of dangerous?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “But your front door was locked. Maybe you should give me a key.”

  Key? I laughed to hide my surprise. “You’re just a regular Superman, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, his expression giving me nothing.

  I nodded.

  Okay. Things were strained between us.

  Obviously he was ready to go. I mean, I’d woken him up and he had classes tomorrow.

  Silence ticked between us.

  I kept it simple. “Thank you for coming over.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “If you’re good then I should probably go—I guess?”

  “I guess.”

  Neither of us moved. “You don’t need anything else?” he asked.

  I needed him. My body craved him. I was sick of seeing him for brief moments each day. I wanted more.

  “No.”

  “Mind if I use the front door?”

  I smiled. “Sure.” We walked to the front door together, and he surprised me by reaching out and grabbing my hand on the way. His warm fingers stroked the tangled scars on my wrists.

  He studied them. Looked back at me. “What happened?”

  I swallowed. “I fell in love with the wrong guy.”

  I waited for him to question me or get angry at my stupidity, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when he didn’t. This was Declan, and he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met.

  “I noticed them the night I showed you how to punch, but I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry for your pain,” he said, gazing down at the pink skin. “Your scars are beautiful. It means you survived. It means you’re here with me.” He kissed my wrist, light as a feather—and changed everything about us. “It’s my favorite part of you,” he said.