British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 3

  I grinned. “Whoa. You’re my wingman.”

  His lips twitched. “Let’s try it out then. Pick a hottie and let’s see who she wants more? I’m up on you by three already.”

  “You’re keeping score?”

  When you have a twin, everything’s a competition.

  Freshmen year, we’d pretended to be the other one for a week, even going so far as to wear long sleeves so no one saw my tattoos or Dax’s lack of. We’d switched up girls for the weekend too. Damn crazy. They’d dumped us when they discovered the truth. I didn’t blame them. But lately those days seemed like a distant memory. At twenty-one, I was close to graduation and about to be out on my own while he’d still be here trying to finish his degree.

  Dax ruffled his hair back and checked his breath by holding his hand up and blowing. He rolled his neck. “Alright, the next pretty bird that walks through that door is up for grabs. The first one to get a kiss wins.”

  “Stakes?” I asked.

  “The usual.”

  I smirked. “It’s your dollar.”

  His eyes gleamed. “It’s not about the money, brother.”

  I laughed. Dax had a way about him that always made you grin even when your ship was sinking fast.

  Just then, I heard the front door open and saw Blake, one of the frat brothers, shooting out of his seat like he’d been shot in the arse by an arrow. Lorna, who’d been sitting in his lap, fell to the floor in a heap. I leaned down to help her up. Blake was a bit of a mystery to me, but Lorna was a popular girl and most guys knew her, me included.

  “Ouch, love. You good?”

  She dusted herself off, annoyance on her face as she took in the girls who’d entered the house. “Thanks. God, Blake is such a freak when it comes to her. I thought he was going to be with me tonight, but then he tells me she’s coming. I just don’t get it. She’s not even that pretty. She’s weird and slutty.” She crossed her arms and glared. “He sees her across the quad and practically runs to her.”

  A bit more than I wanted to know, but I smiled to soften the blow of her being rejected.

  I turned to see why the room had gone quiet.

  Or maybe it just seemed that way to me.

  She sauntered straight in the room like she belonged there, yet the bravado was fake—I could tell by the fluttering eyelashes and the way she clutched her purse like a lifeline.

  I recognized her right away although I don’t think she’d ever looked at me twice in our years at Whitman. Which was surprising. This was a fairly small, albeit prestigious, uni, and I’m used to girls flirting with me in the hallways and classrooms. After all, it’s hard to miss the guy with the English accent who was voted Whitman’s Sexiest Man on Campus by the sororities. But this girl, she lived in a bubble, and seeing her out at a frat party was like spotting a unicorn.

  Her name was Elizabeth Bennett, and the only reason I knew that much was because we’d had a class together last year and the professor had called roll.

  It was a memorable name.

  I remembered turning to check out the girl with a heroine’s name, but she’d bent her head over a textbook already. She’d sat in the back of the class all semester and never once spoken to me—or to anyone. Most people said she was stuck-up. Some guys even claimed she’d shagged them in her room and then had never spoken to them again.

  I didn’t get it. Or her. But I’d admit to a certain fascination.

  She was beautiful in a chilly don’t-touch-me kind of way with white-blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Dark eyebrows rose up dramatically and accentuated almond-shaped eyes, making the pale blue pop from clear across the room. Her lips were painted a deep red, and a sprinkling of freckles dotted her nose—decidedly, the only sweet thing about her.

  From beside me, Dax whistled under his breath. “Bloody hell, who is that? I pick her for a good seeing to.”

  I edged in front of him. “I saw her first,” I said.

  3

  I stood in front of the Tau fraternity front door and gave myself a mental pep talk.

  So what if this was my first college party? I had this.

  It may have taken me two years, but walking into the biggest party on campus would prove that Colby had not won.

  I could still be around alcohol and partying and not freak out.

  Hadn’t I watched Animal House and Revenge of the Nerds this week to prepare myself for the onslaught of college-age shenanigans?

  Feeling fidgety, I adjusted the sterling silver bangles I wore each day. Two inches wide and embellished with my own infinity design, I’d made them in a metal working class before Colby happened. Now, I used them to hide the bundle of scars on my wrists where I’d tried to kill myself two days after the hotel.

  I rubbed the cool metal, reminding myself I had two goals tonight.

  The first was to walk into this frat party; the second was to find a guy, take him home, and christen my new place.

  Any sober guy would do.

  Like there would be any sober guys here.

  Still …

  Something was off tonight, as if a heavy presence lingered in the air. Fate warning me that life was about to get rocky? Was I making a huge mistake by coming here?

  “I can’t believe you’re actually going to walk in that door. On a normal Friday night, you’d be eating delivery pizza and avoiding my calls.”

  I took a breath and nodded.

  Just be normal. Okay, don’t be normal ’cause normal for you is being alone and grumpy and watching Downton Abby episodes curled on Granny’s cat couch.

  Just … be cool, I told myself. Plus, if I didn’t go in this party, Shelley and Blake were going to have me committed to some psyche ward for antisocial behavior.

  We walked in and Blake rushed to meet us. He wore his fraternity jersey, looking boyishly handsome with his auburn hair and big grin. A big guy, he’d played football in high school and now played linebacker for the Whitman Wildcats. We’d dated in high school for about a second, but Colby had come along and all other guys had faded into the background.

  His eyes gleamed with what I took as pride. “Hot damn, you made it! How are my two favorite girls?”

  I smiled up at him. “The question is how’s the party? Anyone OD yet? Human sacrifices going on in the back?” I pretended to be casual, but I stood on my tiptoes and peeked around his shoulders as I spoke, checking out the scene. I didn’t let my gaze linger too long on anyone. My nerves were taut and ready to pop, and I hadn’t even seen the entire place.

  He shook his head, giving me a pointed look like he saw through my jokes. “Nah, we keep a tight watch on those things.” He wrapped us both up in a big brawny hug, his rosy cheeks making him look almost cherubic. “I’m damned glad you’re here. And I promise to take care of you.” He tweaked me on the nose. “You especially. Now stop waffling and come on in.”

  The room blared with music and people stood everywhere. It was hot and noisy and my chest tightened. I skated my eyes through the crowd when all I wanted to do was run like hell. Thank goodness we swept on through to get out of the throng, and he led us out the patio doors to the backyard. Air. I inhaled and then choked on a cloud of perfume as one of the fraternity sisters stopped in front of us. Lorna something. I’d seen her around Blake before, and judging from the evil eye she sent me, I wasn’t her favorite person. Whatever. I didn’t care. Blake and I were just friends, but because we spent a lot of time together, some people might assume we were more.

  She slid her hands over Blake’s chest. “Hey baby, don’t you want to come back inside where the real party is? No one fun is out here.”

  Shelley giggled and I kept my face a mask. Cool. Calm. I’d been around girls like her all through prep school. Pretty rich girls. The best way to deal with them was to never let them see you get flustered. Be a bitch right back. I smiled at her tightly as Blake leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She flounced off to go back inside, a little extra swing in her hips.

  He
crooked our arms together and showed me around, pride evident in his voice as he stopped periodically to introduce me to several of his brothers. Shelley knew most everyone already.

  I took a look around the area, taking in the lit tiki torches, a makeshift dance floor with a DJ and strobe lights, and a huge pool. People roamed everywhere, most of them popular and Greek and not part of my crowd. A girl in a tiny red bikini did a cannonball into the deep end and came up holding her top. Almost immediately, guys whooped loudly and jumped in after her.

  “This party is on steroids,” I murmured.

  “You good?” Shelley asked.

  I nodded.

  A tall guy—about six three—with dark hair and a jawline that could rival any movie star stopped in front of Blake. He did a bow thing and came up with a cocky grin and checked us out blatantly.

  Shelley pushed her well-endowed boobs out. A notorious guy-chaser, she loved guys and was quite, er, free with her love. Didn’t matter who they were. Tall, short, rich, poor, black, white, amphibian …

  “Who’re your hot friends, mate?” the guy asked in an English accent, his words sleek in their delivery. Lofty.

  My eyebrows went straight up, my interest piqued. Yes! I loved the way he talked.

  Blake immediately stiffened. “They’re with me, Dax, so hands off.”

  Dax? Nice name.

  I shot Blake a quick look, but he avoided my eyes. He was a bit possessive when it came to protecting me, and a few times over the past few years I’d had to tell him to back down. I started to lean in and tell him it was fine, but the guy spoke first.

  “What? Can’t I even say hi?” He turned dark gray eyes at me. “You. Do you eat sugar all the time? ’Cause you are the sweetest thing I’ve seen all night.”

  A surprised snort came from me. “That’s the worst pickup line ever.”

  He looked crestfallen. “Ah, angel, don’t laugh—or snort—at me. You’re killing my fragile ego.”

  “Truth hurts.”

  He grinned, not deterred. “Okay, this isn’t a line, but have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

  I stuck my hand out. The more forthright I was, the easier it made things. “I’m Elizabeth Bennett, and we’ve never met because I’d definitely have remembered your accent. Unless it was in class and we never spoke …” I arched my brow. “What’s your major? I’m in the art department mostly.”

  He grimaced. “Psychology, but I don’t go to class much. Maybe it was the Sigma party last year?”

  “The one with the goats on the roof? Ah, no.”

  “The Delta toga party? The one where the cops came?” He chuckled. “Don’t recall much of that one, although I do remember waking up in a pair of women’s underwear.”

  Oh. “Sadly, no, but I did see the students who were arrested on the news.”

  He tossed back his head to laugh, calling attention to the strong lines of his throat. I let my eyes take more of him in, checking out the skinny jeans and the Vital Rejects band shirt that fit snugly to his muscled chest. He was gorgeous.

  He knew I was checking him out, because he smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. He nudged his head at the crowded dance floor. “Wanna go dance?”

  “Ever heard of taking it slow, Dax?” Blake snapped. “She just got here. Give her some space.”

  Shelley ignored Blake and looked at me expectantly, obviously wanting me to say yes, but I shook my head at Dax. “Sorry. I’m not your type.” Best to rip the Band-Aid off fast.

  “I’m every girl’s type.” His eyes skated over my white strapless sundress. “Especially beautiful angels who just fell from heaven.”

  “Don’t angels have wings?” I asked. “Kinda hard to fall when technically you can fly.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and held up the Solo cup he carried in his hand. “No one’s splitting hairs here, besides my lines get better the more I drink.”

  Ah.

  I stiffened but nodded. Trying to be polite. “Hmm, well, I usually spend my Friday nights doing homework while I wear granny panties. I also binge watch Masterpiece Theatre, crochet knit hats, and do calculus when I get bored. I don’t usually come to parties. I don’t even talk to guys who drink, so I’m really not your type.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Just one dance, love. We don’t have to get married.”

  “Good thing I’m stone-cold sober. Looks like I’m the winner here, brother. You can pay me later,” said another accented voice behind me, and I whipped around to see a replica of Dax. Only with bigger muscles.

  Another Brit?

  Only this one’s voice was huskier. Sexier.

  “Twins?” I squeaked.

  They smirked and nodded simultaneously. In the same exact manner.

  I blinked. Oh. They were double trouble, sex on two sticks.

  The sober one pushed dark brown hair off his forehead and stared at me. His face was classically handsome, the jawline angular and defined, but that’s where the carbon copy stopped. Every inch of this guy’s arms not covered by his black shirt were covered in colorful tattoos, and I got lost trying to trace the designs, from ivy branches to skulls. My eyes paused on the blue dragonfly tattoo on his neck. Odd seeing something so light-hearted on such a bulky dude.

  He wore tight designer jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a shirt that clung to a chest that had obviously seen its fair share of the inside of a gym. Intense was the word that came to mind when his silver-gray eyes met mine, sweeping over my face, lingering on my bare shoulders. Warmth spread and I got hot as if I’d just stuck my finger in a socket.

  What was that?

  One thing for sure, he was pure hot male and if you could put it in a bottle, you’d make millions.

  Get away from the hotness and tell your ovaries to settle down, my brain yelled, but I stupidly ignored it.

  Something about him had me riveted. Maybe it was the black eye.

  I immediately pictured him in a bar, turning over chairs and tables and kicking other big dudes’ asses.

  I took a tiny step back. Remember the rules. No hot guys. No popular guys. No rich guys. I was fairly certain he’d check all those boxes.

  The sober twin flashed even, white teeth. “In case you’re wondering, I’m the oldest by two minutes. I also get better grades, as you might have guessed.” He tossed an arm around his brother and rubbed his head good-naturedly.

  “Yeah, but I’m the babe magnet,” Dax said. “You’re just coasting on my bloody coattails, trying to pluck the birds I found first.”

  The bigger one laughed. “Keep dreaming, baby bro. I don’t need to coast. I am the sexiest guy on campus.”

  “Whatever. I’m Dax, in case you missed it,” he said to me with a grin.

  I looked at the other twin. “And you are?”

  “Declan,” he murmured in his low voice, his accented words like silk, the vowels soft and rounded.

  I shivered.

  Declan.

  One simple word that I felt all the way to the roots of my scalp.

  Butterflies danced in my tummy. I yelled at them to settle down, but they didn’t listen.

  His full, sensuous lips kicked up in a grin as I repeated it. “That’s a beautiful name,” I said, “the way it rolls off my tongue.”

  “It’s Gaelic and means full of goodness. Ironic since most call me trouble.” He smiled. “Elizabeth, right?”

  I nodded and he put his hand out for me to take. I rested mine in his much larger warm one, not surprised by the tingles that zipped down my spine. Reluctantly he released my hand, his fingertips sliding against my palm in a sensuous sweep. I let out an uneven breath I must have been holding since the moment he stepped into my vision.

  Was his reaction the same as mine?

  His facial expression hadn’t changed at our first touch, yet he’d moved closer to me, the expensive scent of his woodsy cologne permeating my senses.

  The conversation picked back up with the others, but Declan and I just stood there silently. I glanced
at him. He glanced at me. He smiled. I smiled. And right there it felt like we were having an intimate moment, just the two of us as we stared at each other while the world carried on. His gaze kept coming back to me, almost inquisitive as if he wanted to ask me something but didn’t know how. There was a connection between us, and I’m not stupid, I know it wasn’t love at first sight—maybe lust—but he was definitely the hottest guy I’d been this close to in two years.

  He was exactly what I needed tonight, the complete opposite of Colby’s blond and preppy Ralph Lauren looks. Perhaps it was time to take my rules a step further, to prove to myself I could be with whomever I wanted and keep control of the situation.

  As long as the fortress of my heart remained under lock and key, I was good.

  He turned away from me when a pretty girl walked up to him, and just like that I changed my mind. Player?

  He looked back to me a minute or two later, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry about that. I taught her some self-defense moves last year, and she was telling me how she’d used them on her older brother this summer.”

  Oh. I took in his broad chest and biceps. “You’re a trainer?”

  He nodded, an earnest expression on his face. “Yeah. I’ve taught in some of the local gyms, but I’m opening my own soon.”

  “Is that how you got your black eye?”

  He considered me carefully. “No.”

  I studied him harder, my gaze boring into the masculine planes of his face. Instinctively, I reached up and delicately touched a red place near his hairline. A cut? He winced and I immediately dropped my hand. “So sorry, I—I don’t know why I did that.”

  Stop touching the hot guy! I yelled in my head.

  He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

  “You use your fists a lot?”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Dangerous. Sexy. Trouble.

  Why was I still talking to him?

  Blake sidestepped between Declan and me in such a way that it felt forced. “You want a drink, Elizabeth? There’s beer and some punch, although it’s probably spiked. I can scrounge around and find you something though.”

  “A water would be great.”