Book Boyfriend Series Collector's Edition Boxed Set Read online

  “Nothing happened! I told you nothing happened, it’s the truth,” he argued. “Look, Scarlett is a very sweet and pretty girl, but that’s what she is . . . a girl. You know I don’t mess around with virgins. I learned my lesson the hard way with that shit. Either they are never going to let me fuck them, which I respect their decision and all but that doesn’t work for me, or they decide that I’m the lucky bastard that they give their most virtuous gift to and expect me to fall in love with them and spend forever together, which REALLY doesn’t work for me. So whichever category Scarlett or any other vestal maiden that may come along falls into, it’s never going to work for me.”

  “Not to mention, she’s so not his type,” Meg chimed in. “She’s not blonde and her tits aren’t big enough. But for me on the other hand . . .”

  I could not believe the conversation I was listening to. The three of them were talking about me and my virginity like they were discussing what they were going to eat for dinner, just no big deal. I didn’t have much time to analyze the multitude of emotions that had converged together to form a huge knot in the back of my throat and a matching one deep in my abdomen because Evie walked up next to me, grabbed my hand, and forced me to follow her to where the trio stood. I’m sure she thought I was just too nervous to approach Ash.

  “Hey guys, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Evie greeted the group. All three of them turned around to face us with a somewhat guilty look on their faces, or maybe I just thought I saw that since I knew what they had been discussing and I thought they should’ve felt guilty.

  “No, we haven’t been here too long,” Jess replied hastily. “The hostess said it would be about 20 minutes when we checked in and that was probably 10 or 15 minutes ago.”

  “Cool.” Evie replied.

  I didn’t say a word, I couldn’t. Ash’s eyes had locked with mine and I could tell he was concerned that I had overheard their conversation. I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes but I would be damned if I gave him the pleasure of making me cry. I successfully willed them away and tore away from his stare. Determined to act as if nothing was wrong, I then said hello to each of them and asked how they were doing. Thankfully, the hostess walked over to us at that moment to let us know that our table was ready.

  Dinner itself was painfully pleasant. Jess and Evie carried the conversation throughout, the other three of us piped up every once in a while to add our two cents. I paid quite a bit of attention to first the chips and salsa on the table and then to my main course once it arrived. I felt Ash staring at me a few times but I did not dare look his way. His and Meg’s words were playing on an endless loop in my head. She is a girl . . . It’s never going to work for me . . . She’s so not his type . . . She is a girl. I sat in my chair exploding with emotions—embarrassment, rejection, and flat-out anger were the three at the top of my list, in no particular order. However, in the end, anger won out and I couldn’t wait to get to the party to be in Dylan’s arms to show him just how much of a girl I was.

  The scene at Jacob and Nicholas’s was much the same as the week before except with double the number of people. I recognized quite a few of the people as we made our way from the front door to the kitchen. Several of them even stopped to ask if I’d be playing the guitar again to which I replied an honest “I’m not sure.” I found Dylan in the kitchen. He was drinking a beer, leaning against the island, looking hotter than I remembered. He had gotten his hair cut or buzzed I should say. Normally I wouldn’t think that I would like a guy with hair that short, but somehow it made Dylan even more attractive. He was dressed similar to the last time I saw him—a pale blue polo, cargo shorts, and deck shoes. All-American boy indeed. As soon as his big brown eyes found me, a huge smile spread across his flawless face, and I hurried over to him. He greeted me with a warm embrace, a hug so tight that he lifted me off of the floor. We were in complete oblivion to the people around us, other than the fact I was secretly hoping Ash was watching. When he sat me back down, he leaned toward me and spoke with his lips brushing against mine. “I couldn’t wait to see you, Scarlett. A week is way too long to go without seeing your lovely face.”

  Feeling wanted and cherished, I whispered back, “I missed you too, Dylan.” I stuck my tongue out and traced his lower lip with it, taunting him to kiss me harder. Dylan did not disappoint. The invitation of my tongue on his mouth must’ve been exactly what he was waiting for because he immediately swept me away in a demanding and powerful kiss. His tongue plundered and pillaged my mouth while his hands rubbed up and down my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body firmly against his.

  When we broke apart, a round of applause and whistles broke out among the party-goers in the kitchen that had witnessed our exchange.

  “Damn girl, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought y’all were long lost lovers reuniting after years apart,” Evie leaned over to me and said. There was no doubt that my face was beet red, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I didn’t mean for the kiss to become so passionate right there in front of everyone, but once it got started, I couldn’t help but release all of the pent up emotions that I had yet to deal with from dinner and it just felt so good to be desired.

  Dylan didn’t seem to mind the attention; he smiled smugly and continued to hold me close to him with both arms snaked around my waist. Everyone resumed whatever it was they were doing and I felt an overwhelming need for fresh air.

  “Can we go outside? It’s a little warm in here,” I whispered in Dylan’s ear.

  “Of course. Come on,” he answered and kissed my forehead.

  He led me through the crowded kitchen to the back door, and as soon as we stepped on the wooden deck, I filled my lungs with the warm humid Texas air. It was calming and refreshing. There weren’t nearly as many people in the back yard as inside—just a few couples sitting on and around the deck, some talking, some doing more than talking, and a group of smokers that stood in a circle in the middle of the yard. The smell of both cigarettes and pot lingered heavily in the muggy night. Dylan walked us to an area of the deck railing that was unoccupied. He lifted me up so that I was sitting on the wide railing, eye level with him. Instinctively, I opened my legs wide enough that he could stand between them. I pulled him to me and without saying a word, I picked up right where we had left off inside, crushing my mouth on his. I was still irritated and hurt over Ash’s cruel words, and as hard as I tried, I could not stop thinking about it . . . until Dylan had kissed me in the kitchen. So I figured as long as I kept kissing him, I would be perfectly happy. There could be worse things, right? And damn if he wasn’t a superb kisser. Kissing Dylan was different than kissing Ash, I couldn’t put my finger on how exactly, but it was incredible nonetheless.

  After several minutes of getting our mouths reacquainted with one another, we were finally ready to talk. Dylan stayed close to me, in between my legs with each of his hands on my bare thighs, his face was just inches from mine.

  “I really like the boots,” he said smiling while he looked down at my feet. “They’re very sexy Texas.” I grinned at the compliment and wiggled my feet for him.

  “But I love the pigtails,” he murmured as he leaned in to me once again. He kissed right below my left ear and then whispered, “They make me think very naughty thoughts about you.” I whimpered as similar visions crossed my mind and my wet sex ached with want.

  “Oh God, Scarlett. Please don’t make sounds like that. I’m having a hard enough time controlling myself as it is,” Dylan pleaded but kept his face nuzzled in my neck and his body up against mine.

  “Sorry. I got a little carried away there. You aren’t the only one fighting to stay in control, ya know?” I replied. We continued to stand like that for a little while, I had my arms wrapped around his neck and I was running my hands over his freshly cut hair. I loved the way the hair felt under my hands, it was soft and smooth if you rubbed your hands one way, but stubby and prickly when you ran it the other direction. He con
tinued to lay against my chest, kissing my neck and ears every so often, both of us were lost in thought. This was quite different from last Saturday when we spent the majority of the time talking and getting to know one another. I wondered what it would be like to be in a different setting with Dylan, like a real dinner-movie date kind of thing. And then I wondered why he hadn’t asked me out yet. We had talked or texted every day this week, but he never brought up seeing one another outside of these parties. Before I could jump off into one of my notorious over-analyzed hypotheses on why that was, Evie and some guy walked out the back door toward us. The competition had officially begun.

  “Hey Sam. How you doing out here?” she asked as her and her male friend approached. I could see the wide grin on her face and the sparkle in her eye and I knew that this was her so-called chosen “prey” for the evening. He was cute, a little dorky, but still cute. He was tall and skinny, had short black hair, and his pink polo, seer-sucker shorts, and loafers screamed “preppy frat boy.” The look was so over the top, I couldn’t help but snicker into Dylan’s back. I knew that this “genre” of book boyfriend was not Evie’s top choice, she much preferred a guy with some rough around the edges, but she was sticking to the guidelines . . . almost a little too well. A pink polo, really?

  “We’re good. Sorry to bail, there were just so many people inside the house, and I was getting overheated and claustrophobic,” I told her apologetically.

  “No worries, I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. And I wanted to introduce you to Anthony,” Evie grabbed his hand and jerked him closer to her. The move startled the poor guy, but he wasn’t about to protest.

  Dylan and I both introduced ourselves and shook the guy’s hand without moving from our position. Dylan had just turned around so that his back was leaning against my chest, still standing in between my legs. My boots were hooked around the front of him, resting on his thighs; my arms snaked around his middle, hands clasped together at his waist; and my chin rested on his right shoulder. I loved having his neck and ear in such close proximity to my mouth and every so often, I would kiss and nip at his soft skin. The moans I could feel vibrating in his neck that had escaped in the back of his throat fueled me to continue.

  We spent a while talking outside with Evie and Anthony, who actually turned out to be a pretty normal guy, despite his questionable clothing decisions. I could tell that Evie was bored with him about halfway through the conversation, but she was not going to forfeit the win easily. She tried her hardest to get Anthony to partake in some form of PDA, but he was shy and reserved and any physical contact between the two of them was a direct result of her initiating it. It appeared I had two breakfasts coming my way.

  At some point Jess stuck her head out the door and told us the jam session was about to start and I needed to come in. I really hadn’t thought about playing again this week, I was hoping there would be other people who wanted to perform, especially since there were so many more people this time. But Evie, Jess, and Dylan insisted that we go in, so I went along with them. I really didn’t want to see Ash. I had managed to avoid him since we had arrived at the house by staying outside, but I really didn’t want to see him with or without female companionship. I hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to pull the same shit with his song choices again, I was irritated enough with him as it was and it wouldn’t take much to make me just want to leave . . . probably with Dylan, and I really wasn’t ready for that yet.

  Thankfully, Ash, who surprisingly appeared to be bimbo-less, didn’t try to embarrass me or send any secret messages while he sang, at least not that I picked up on. He actually paid very little attention to me whatsoever. I decided that this irritated me even more than when he was trying to get under my skin, at least then I knew he was thinking about me. I knew I should feel guilty thinking these thoughts about Ash as I sat in Dylan’s lap, but I didn’t. Mostly because I knew that nothing would ever happen between me and Ash, that had been made clear more than once. Once again, Ash was fantastic. He played a mixture of classics and current sounds, but all of them in his own style that kind of reminded me of a mixture of Mason Jennings and Jack Johnson. His sound matched his image so perfectly—if you closed your eyes, you could imagine yourself sitting around a bonfire at the beach after a long day of sun and surf. It was absorbing and therapeutic.

  When he finished his last song, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, which was absolutely spectacular, he looked in my eyes for the first time since we had left the restaurant and held the guitar out toward me. His mouth turned up in a slight smile but it did not reach his eyes. I hoped he felt as distraught inside as I did, but I doubted that I was the reason for the troubled look on his face. He was probably just frustrated at his lack of female worshippers and the fact that he apparently wasn’t getting laid two Saturday nights in a row. The thought of all the girls he had slept with made me shudder and reminded me of my exasperation with him. I grabbed the guitar from him with a short “Thanks,” and took the seat the he had been sitting in.

  I followed the mood that Ash had set, a cheerful calm, by playing similar songs in style. As always, I lost myself in my music and at times I forgot that anyone else was even in the room with me; I was grateful for the opportunity to release some of my frustration. Playing the guitar always soothed me.

  Shortly after I was done, Jess, Ash, Evie, and I headed back to their house just as we did the week prior; I assumed Meg was already at their house. I was grateful the rest of them were ready to leave as well because I was exhausted. The goodbye kiss from Dylan was passionate and full of promises for more. I was glad that the attraction between us continued after our first meeting, I had secretly feared that I wouldn’t feel anything for him when I saw him again. However, that wasn’t the case at all. Dylan had not only been better looking than I had remembered, but his words were more flattering and his kisses tasted much sweeter. I was very much looking forward to seeing him again. But he still wasn’t Ash.

  Evie and Jess changed and went straight to bed, but I opted for a shower first. They were both sound asleep by the time I joined them in the bed, and once again, I found myself lying there staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. After about an hour or so, I tiptoed out of Jess’s room and went to the kitchen for a glass of milk. There was just something about a glass of ice-cold milk that made me feel full and content and always helped me fall asleep. I opened the refrigerator and my jaw dropped. What in the hell?

  Sitting on the top shelf was a glass of milk, already poured, with a piece of paper taped to it. The word “sorry” was still legible even though the condensation from the glass had caused the ink to run. Was he serious with this? Without thinking, I marched down the hall and flung open the door to Ash’s room.

  “You are such a pompous, arrogant asshole,” I growled at him. I wanted to scream at him at the top of my lungs, but I didn’t want to wake up the others in the house, especially Evie, so I settled on a fierce growl. As I stood in the doorway, it took my brain a moment to process the scene in front of me. On Ash’s bed there were a bunch of pillows all stacked up with several towels lying across them. It appeared that Ash was buried under the pillows, at least I assumed he was because I didn’t see him anywhere else.

  What in the world are you doing?” I hissed.

  His head peaked out from behind one of the pillows and he flashed me his killer dimples and that panty-drenching smile. Oh Lord. I tried hard to keep my resolve, but his nearness made it oh so hard.

  “I was afraid you were going to throw the glass of milk at me when you came in here. I didn’t think about using a plastic cup until it was too late, so I thought I better take the necessary precautions.” He looked pleased that I didn’t have the glass of milk in my hands, I was so infuriated when I saw it that I had left it on the shelf in the refrigerator.

  Staying by the door, I assessed the absurdity of the entire situation. Ash still hadn’t moved either. His hair hung in his face, messed up from hiding his head under the pill
ows, and he had the biggest shit-ass grin across his face as if he was gloating. I tried hard to fight the smile that tugged at my face and the laughter that threatened escape in my throat. I was supposed to be irritated and annoyed at his presence. If he wasn’t so damn irresistible . . .

  “So you think you can just pour me a glass of milk and write ‘sorry’ on a piece of paper and I’m going to forget about how big of an ass you are?” I asked with a bit of forced anger.

  “No, you’ll probably always think I’m an ass, but I was hoping it would get you in my room talking to me, and it looks like it worked,” he gloated.

  I sighed, rolled my eyes, and turned to walk away from him all in one frustrated motion. It was a move I had perfected while dealing with my parents for so many years.

  “Scarlett, wait, don’t leave . . . please. I promise I won’t act like a cocky bastard anymore,” Ash pleaded. “Well . . . at least I’ll try really hard not to.” I imagined the sexy smirk on his face with his last remark without even looking at him.

  “What do you want from me?” I stopped a few steps into the hallway but didn’t turn around.

  “Just to talk . . . I just want to talk to you.”

  Unable to resist the near-begging in his alluring voice, I spun my body back to his room and walked right inside the doorway. I stayed as far away from him and the bed as I could while still being in the room. “What? What do you want to talk about?” I spat. I was just as irritated at myself for giving in to him so easily as I was at him for . . . well, just for being him.