TRAVIS

Viola Fisher, President of Prudeville and Queen Perfectionist, has several tattoos, one on her arm and another on her thigh that I couldn’t make out because she was hustling down the hallway. My eyes widen, both shocked and impressed, and every comeback I had waiting for her vanished with a single look. I’m not usually at a loss for words, especially when it comes to rattling Viola, but all I can do is blink. As I stand paralyzed by the door, Viola prances down the hallway with water dripping down her perfect bare body as she flips me off.

She pauses in the doorway, not yet walking all the way through, and makes direct eye contact with me. “It’s rude to stare,” she bites out, her lips pinching together in a challenge; the slightest twitch depicts an evil grin forming.

I swallow, seemingly unaffected, but I won’t give her the pleasure of knowing that.

“Trust me, princess. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” I hold my stance, both feet planted firmly on the floor.

“You’d be much more believable if you wiped the drool from your chin first,” she remarks before taking another step and slamming the door behind her.

As the door clicks shut, I wipe my mouth and chin with the back of my hand. Dammit, Viola. She has my cock all kinds of confused, because if I didn’t know any better, she enjoyed that just as much as I had. It responded to her more than I’d like to admit, but I can’t fault it for knowing a sweet little thing like her. I’ve seen Viola in swim suits plenty when we were younger, but it’s been years since we’ve all gone swimming together. Clothes don’t do justice for that girl’s curves. She has a small dimple in her lower back, right above her ass—which is perfectly round and asking to be spanked. Her tits nearly stopped me in my tracks, so perky and taut. Her pink buds were hard at attention.

Fuck me. Now I’m completely hard. Standing in the hallway. Thinking about Viola Fisher’s bare curves and how it would feel to palm those tits of hers.

Drew pops into my head, knowing he would fiercely disapprove. Not because I’m not a good guy—let’s face it, I’m a catch—but because he knows my history and he knows his sister. Nothing good would come of it. But I can’t help thinking about the possibility of shutting her smart mouth up once and for all.

Perhaps behind the textbooks and smart mouth, Viola Fisher has a secret wild side. A side I bring out in her, and I’m desperate to see it again. As I stand there, staring at her wet footprints down the hall, I think of my next move. If she wants to play, I’m all in.

I head to the kitchen and immediately reach for a shot glass in the cupboard. The images of her walking out of the bathroom, all gutsy and hot, are haunting me. She’s absolutely breathtaking and now she’s found a way to pay me back for all those crass remarks I’ve said to her—not that I can really blame her.

I take the bottle of tequila from the freezer and pour myself a shot. I tilt my head back, pour the liquid gold in, and choke the burning down my throat until it settles in my chest.

Knowing Viola and her hatred for me, I know this means war. But I wonder if I really know Viola at all anymore. When we were kids I knew everything about her, but now I clearly have a lot more to learn.

The Viola I grew up with loved daisies and putting peanut butter on everything. Her favorite season was fall so she could jump into the huge piles of leaves. Before all of her adult teeth came in, whenever she smiled, her top teeth would rest on top of her lower lip, which I, of course, teased her about.

I also know that certain things about her will never change. Whenever she really, wholeheartedly laughs, it’s so infectious that a whole room cracks up with her. I know she has freckles sprinkled across her shoulders and a mole on her left shoulder blade. Though she prides herself on being a know-it-all, sexual jokes tend to go right over her head. When we were younger, she used to throw punches like a boy and could run faster than Drew and me. But what about now? Who is Viola Fisher outside of her books and geeky Harry Potter references?

It drives me fucking insane that I genuinely want to know. I pour another shot because there’s nothing better than self-sabotage. I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see Viola in a tank top and black leggings. Her wet hair is pulled up into a messy bun, her cheeks flushed. I lean up against the counter and raise an eyebrow at her.

“Hardly recognize you with clothes on,” I quip.

“Shove it, asshole.” She walks past me and opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. She opens the top and takes a huge drink then places it on the counter. She goes quiet, but then after a moment, she stands on her tiptoes and reaches for a shot glass from the cabinet. Her body is so close to mine that I can smell her fresh, clean scent. She smells like strawberries and fresh rain. I watch her every move as she slides the tequila bottle closer to her, unscrews the top, and pours herself a shot.

“Shit, that burns.” She gasps for air, slamming the glass down on the counter.

“Have you ever been drunk before?” I find myself asking.

She shoots daggers at me, her fingers still wrapped around the glass. “Yes, I’ve had alcohol before.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Wait,” she says dramatically, her jaw dropping. “Is this stuff magically supposed to make my panties fly off while I trip and fall on your dick?” Her expression is completely serious, although I’m ninety percent sure she’s fucking with me.

“Well, I wouldn’t say fly off...” I tilt the corner of my lips up, enjoying this little battle we have going on. “But if you prefer being on top, I’m all about it,” I say, smugly, knowing it’s going to boil her blood.

She makes a gagging noise and steps away. “In your dreams, King. I don’t need to fake an orgasm to know you’re all talk.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” I go on the defense, catching up to her when she walks to the living room. “There is no way in hell a girl has ever faked it with me. I have a one-hundred percent satisfaction guarantee.” I know I sound like a tool, but Viola is making me stumble on my own thoughts.

She bursts out laughing, shaking her head at me as she grabs the TV remote.

“I knew you were arrogant, but Christ.”

“What?” I ask.

“Do you have a full refund policy, too? Get an STD, all panties returned and burned.”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall so I can study her features.

“I’m sure.” She rolls her eyes, flipping through the channels.

“Have you ever had one?”

“Had what?” she asks, avoiding eye contact with me.

I curl my lips up. “An orgasm.”

I watch as her fingers lose their grip on the remote and it falls to the floor. “I’m not answering that!” she shouts, reaching for the remote again.

“Why not?” I shrug. “It’s a valid question.”

“It’s none of your damn business.” She hisses.

I chuckle. “That’s a no.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Then just answer the damn question.” I groan.

She slams the remote down and stalks toward me, seething. “Fuck off.”

I smile as I watch her walk back down the hall. Now that’s the Viola I know.

––––––––

Viola hides out in Drew’s room most of the night, which is just fine by me. It’s Day 1 alone with her, and I’m already desperate to go out and drink away all the memories of her walking wet and naked down my hallway.

She finally resurfaces, walking straight to the kitchen and ignoring me like the priss she is.

“I thought you’d be all tucked into bed by now.”

“Believe it or not, I need to eat,” she snaps, opening the fridge door.

“Work up an appetite in there?” I ask, pinching my lips together.

“Do you have an off button?”

“Actually...”

“Never mind,” she quickly spits out. “Forget I asked.” She groans, knowing exactly where I was about to take it.

Trying to get under her skin as best I can, I ask in my best conversational tone, “So can you give yourself an orgasm?”

She gasps as her eyes widen in shock. “Do you just say the first thing that comes to your teeny tiny brain?”

“Hasn’t let me down yet.” I shrug. She rolls her eyes at me, and I laugh. “Want me to make you something for dinner?”

“No,” she says on instinct. “I don’t want your hands anywhere near what goes into my mouth.”

She closes her eyes and immediately catches herself, but it’s too late.

“Well, I’ve never been told that before, but hey, there’s a first for everything,” I say nonchalantly. I have to say it. “However, whenever I offer to cook for a girl, we usually skip the dinner portion of the night and go right for dessert.”

“It doesn’t count if you have to drug them,” she retorts automatically. Christ, this girl has a lot of pent-up aggression. I could offer to help her with that, but I have a feeling it would end with her knee in my junk and me collapsing to the ground.

She continues busying herself in the kitchen, pretending I’m invisible. I guess I deserve that, but I’m not about to let her ruin my night.

As if on cue, my phone rings on the counter between us and before I can grab it, she glances down at it and frowns.  

“Sarah From The Bar?” she asks, cocking one brow up in disdain. “Classy.”

“Don’t be jealous, princess. I have a nickname for you too.” I smile wide, knowing she’ll know exactly what I mean. V the Virgin.

“Is it under Never in a Million Fucking Years?”

I press a hand to my chest, as if her words actually hurt me. “Not even in a million years?”

“Grow up, asshole.” She takes her PB&J sandwich and twists around me, walking out of the kitchen.

I answer my phone before Viola’s out of hearing distance. “Hey, baby.”

“I’m in the area tonight. Was thinking about stopping over. Is that okay?” Her loud moans and perky ass immediately come to mind.

“Yeah, baby. Of course. Can’t wait to see you.”

“Think...short skirt, low cut top, no panties...” she drawls out in a smooth voice.

“Even better.” I grin, getting hard just thinking about how much fun we had last time.

“I’ll be there soon. I’m not too far away,” Sarah says before we hang up.

Viola peeks her head around the corner, obviously having listened to my whole conversation, and glares at me. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

“What?” I say, smiling.

She rounds the corner and comes at me as if she’s going to knock me out.

“What? Really?” She seethes. “It’s only been a few hours and you’re already breaking the house rules! I have two tests tomorrow. I don’t need your sexcapades keeping me up all night.”

“I’m flattered you think I can go all night, but...”

“No. Guests. In. The. House.” Her stance is fierce, her body boiling. “Got it?”

I take a step closer, feeling the warmth of her skin radiate near mine.

I’ve put up with enough of her shit for one night. “We didn’t agree on anything,” I hiss, my voice dropping low. My eyes glance down and watch her breast rise and fall with each breath she takes, her pulse rapidly beating in her neck. She’s seriously worked up.

“Being here with you is fucking torture.” She groans.

“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either, princess,” I tell her, not letting her win this round.

“God, I can’t believe I have to survive two weeks here. I’d rather sleep in my car than breathe the same air as you.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on your perky little ass on the way out, then.” I cross my arms over my chest and run my tongue along my bottom lip. She intently watches me. Her eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth, daring me to cross that line. I move in closer to her, testing her. She doesn’t budge; my lips are so close to hers that if I moved another inch, they’d touch.

The warmness of her breath brushes against my cheek and for a moment, I almost pull her to my chest and give in to what her body’s begging for. It’d be so easy to run my fingers through her hair and pull her lips close to mine. I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. She’s my best friend’s little sister, of course I have. She’s always been the forbidden fruit, the girl I’m not supposed to want. Over the course of pissing her off and pushing her away, she’s grown to hate me more than I believed possible. I hear her breath catch as our bodies inch closer, almost as if she’s anticipating it. I have her under my spell, whether or not she’ll ever admit it, but I won’t give Viola anything until she begs for it.

I take a step back, flashing a wide, knowing grin. She releases a deep groan, narrows her eyes at me, and storms off back to Drew’s room. She doesn’t slam the door this time, and I’m relieved to finally have some space from her, even if I’ll be thinking about her lips, her perky tits, and the way she shimmied her bare ass in front of me for a long, long time.

––––––––

VIOLA

I must have a brain tumor or something because it felt like Travis was almost, maybe about to kiss me.

Ha! That's insane.

The last time I fell for his smooth ways, he broke my young, fragile heart. No way am I letting myself go down that path again. I might've only been twelve at the time, but it's not exactly something you just get over. I wasn’t just a girl crushing on her older brother’s best friend. He didn’t treat me like a little kid. He actually made me feel special.

I’ll never forget the time Drew called me stupid in front of his friends. It made me so mad I ran to the backyard and cried my eyes out. Travis left them and sat next to me as I ripped flowers from the ground. He made everything seem simple, easy even, as he wiped my tears away. He grabbed my hand, pulling me to the ground with him, and we looked up at the clouds. I was more important than his friends and video games. That’s when Travis King wasn’t full of himself and preoccupied with bagging every hot girl he meets. He was a boy with manners, who always seemed to say the right things to me.

I was a naive little girl. I know that now. But when you watch your Prince Charming tap every other girl around you— including your best friend since second grade— it's easy to believe something must be wrong with you when he never looks your way.

I thought, maybe if I was smarter. Or skinnier. Or had bigger boobs and longer legs. If I was just something more, he’d see me as more than just his friend’s kid sister.

So basically, I hated myself all through middle school and hated him even more through high school. He toyed with my self-esteem and I grew to hate him for that, too.

I knew all of that stuff was petty. It was immature and lame, but now after all the years of feeling rejected, I can’t stand being around him. He’s a constant reminder that I’ll never be good enough. He goes out of his way to get under my skin, and I refuse to tolerate it—even if he still affects me in ways I wished he didn't.

Having to spend the next two weeks alone in a house with Travis King is going to be pure torture. Even though I’d been able to avoid him once he and Drew moved off to college, I only had to tolerate him when I drove up to visit Drew. Then I got a full scholarship offer from the same college and everything changed again. Being close to Drew was important to me: My parents were divorced, neither of their houses felt like a home, my roommate threw weekend keggers, and I just needed somewhere to hide out and study. Aside from sleeping at the school library, Drew and Travis’ house was my only option. On weekends Travis was gone, it became my sanctuary. But of course, he'd return and ruin it all.

––––––––

After heading back to Drew’s room, I fold down the blankets on the bed and slide under the covers. I chuckle when I feel the smooth fabric because I know Drew really did change the sheets for me.

I can’t concentrate at all. My book is flagged with important chapters for my test tomorrow and I’ve already been through the study guide three different times. I have it memorized verbatim. I try to read the words but they seem to bleed off the pages. I rest my book on my chest and replay every moment from the bathroom to the living room.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize Travis saw my bare ass. Oh my God. I can’t help but shake my head at my bravery because I’m not really sure where it came from. I hope the image of my best assets burns into his retinas. Take that, King Douche.

The doorbell rings and my heart drops. It’s Travis’ victim for the night, and as much as I hate to admit, a pang of jealousy rushes through me. She laughs at something and sounds like a dying hyena. I roll my eyes, thinking about how she must believe she has a chance at changing him. He’s obviously into it just for the sex—just like every other girl he hooks up with—and she’s probably stupid enough to think it’ll lead to something more.

Travis doesn’t do relationships, lady. Run for the hills. I roll my eyes, the sound of her high-pitched giggle grating on my nerves. The low rumble of his voice rings in my ear but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. It’s followed by the click of his bedroom door, which is next to Drew’s.

I seriously cannot lay here as he fucks some skank next door. The walls are so thin, I can hear everything. After another minute, her muffled moans become more audible and it makes me physically ill.

Fuck this.

And fuck Travis King.

I throw the blankets off my body and immediately start pacing the room. I shake my head and try to think of something. Travis started this little game and I'm not backing down. He wants to play and it's on.

I step out of Drew’s room and knock on Travis’ door. I hear the bimbo still giggling and Travis speaking, so I bang my fist even harder.

“Go away!” he shouts and my blood boils even more. He doesn't want to follow the rules of the game, then fine. I'll bite.

“Goddammit, Travis! Are you sneaking around behind my back again?” I jiggle the doorknob, threatening to walk in.

“What the hell?” I hear the woman ask.

“It's my roommate’s little sister,” Travis responds, as if that’d be explanation enough for her. I hate how he insinuates the word ‘little’, as if I’m less of a woman. She’ll figure it out since I'm about to go all crazy ex-girlfriend on his ass.

I twist the knob and let myself in. They're both naked, just a thin sheet covering them.

“I thought we would be alone tonight?” She looks to Travis confused but he’s staring at me, studying my body from head to toe, knowing how it aggravates me when he looks at me like that. He doesn’t acknowledge she spoke and actually ignores the question completely. I almost feel bad for interrupting but Travis doesn’t seem to mind as he smirks and places his hands behind his head, almost as if he’s enjoying the scene. This is not going how I imagined, but he has no idea what evil plan I have in store. I suck in a deep breath with hopes to adlib an Oscar-worthy performance.

“Actually, I’m his girlfriend,” I explain, my eyes watering right on schedule. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again, Travis! How could you?” I scream, my face heating up. Thank god for that semester of theater courses I took freshman year before I changed to business.

I know I’m not as good as I was back then, but I must be believable enough since Sarah From The Bar jumps up and grabs her clothes. I suck in a deep breath, not standing down, and the smirk that covered his face just a few moments before is replaced with a look of disbelief as Sarah puts on her skank suit. His jaw clenches and I know this can’t be good, but I’m too caught up in reveling in victory–booty call has officially been cancelled.

“Tonight was obviously a mistake,” Sarah rushes out in a panic. I barely have enough time to shift out of her way as she rushes past me. Travis doesn’t try to explain the truth and he sure as hell doesn’t chase after her, though I’m sure he’ll be able to smooth it over without any issue. It’s just an advantage of being Travis King.

Travis sits up calmly and crosses his arms over his chest, staring me down as if he’s asking if I’m finished. It’s more frightening because he isn’t saying a word. This is the calm before the storm but nothing can stop the evil smile creeping across my face. I’ve finally managed to push his buttons and it’s about damn time. I was beginning to believe nothing I did bothered him.

He stands up, completely naked, and heat rushes to my cheeks. Travis gives no fucks because his body is perfect, and he has the most beautiful man-ass I’ve ever seen. Muscles cascade down his sun-kissed back, and I pull my lips into my mouth to hold back any audible sound that might try to escape. He slowly pulls the jogging pants to his waist and the band snaps to his body, bringing me back to reality. As much as I want to run away, I stand my ground. I’m so pumped up on adrenaline right now, I actually feel like I could take him and all of his muscles.

“Girlfriend? I don’t think so, princess. I can’t believe that’s the best you have.” The frustration and annoyance in his voice isn’t lost on me.

When I realize he’s still moving toward me, I begin backing up, until my back touches the wall across from his bedroom door. He rushes through the doorway and for a split second I think about running to Drew’s room and locking the door, but I don’t. My traitorous body freezes.

His eyes go dark, and I know he’s just as pissed as I am. When I feel the hardness tucked in his pants graze along my stomach, I hold back a gasp. In a split second, Travis grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head against the wall. He arches his hips, pressing harder against me, making it very evident what he’s so worked up about.

I tilt my head, his mouth so close to mine that I can hardly breathe. I’m being suffocated by Travis King, and I am so bespelled that I cannot move.

I look up into his golden brown eyes and he’s studying my reaction, probably calculating my next move. I know he’s angry, but there’s something else in his gaze that I can’t make out.

“Tell me something, V,” he says in a husky tone. His lips don’t touch mine, but he’s dangerously close, being the asshole that he’s always been, teasing and tempting me with every breath he takes. I want to struggle and demand that he never call me that again, but he’s stolen my voice and my words, along with my mind. The control he has over me at this very moment is pathetic. My heart is racing, and I can smell him, an unmistakable fragrance that I wish I didn’t know so well. It’s sweet and manly and all Travis, but mixed with another woman’s perfume nearly knocks me right off my feet.

I ball my fists because I don’t know whether to love or hate what’s happening. Too many emotions swirl together and time feels like it’s frozen as he overpowers me. If he doesn’t let go, I’ll kick him in the balls and watch him fall to his knees. Back on the playground I was known for being a ballbuster and he, out of anyone, should know better. Instead of releasing me, Travis tightens his grip, and I let out an agitated grunt as I try to break free from him.

“What’s the game plan, Travis? Are you going to keep me captive all night?” I roll my eyes and shake my head, trying not to meet his eyes.

“That’s a good idea.” He holds me hostage with one hand and brushes the other against the light stubble that graces his strong jaw. “Let me think about it for a while longer.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I mumble, forcing my eyes closed because I don’t want to look at him anymore. My body is betraying me. I try to pretend I’m somewhere else, where I can’t smell or feel the warmth of Travis’s skin against mine.

“Now that my night’s been ruined, what am I going to do?” He searches my face, waiting for me to flinch, because usually closeness like this activates my flight-or-fight instinct, especially when it comes to Travis King. But I refuse to let him know it’s becoming uncomfortable and awkward. I try to relax as best I can, because this could go on all night. And if I know Travis, it will. The man doesn’t half-ass anything.

“I’m just doing her a favor. I’ve heard crabs are a bitch. The rash and itch.” My shoulders rise and fall, seemingly unaffected by the position he’s put us in. “You should know.”

He actually cracks a smile. “You’d think with how much you talk about my dick, you’d ridden it before.”

“You’re so vile,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes at him.

He tugs his bottom lip and runs his perfect teeth across the plumpness. It’s a pity those features are being wasted on such an asshole of a man. If I didn’t hate him as much as I do, those lips might actually be considered kissable. He leans in, his mouth too close for comfort and whispers in my ear. “You have no idea just how vile I can be.”

I grit my teeth and channel all the pent-up aggression I have toward him. As my body tightens, I twist my wrists, trying to loosen the grip he has on me. Strands of my hair start falling from my messy bun, and I can feel my chest and neck flushing.

I know I must look ridiculous. Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I try to gain control. After struggling for what feels like minutes, I drop my legs from under my body. If he wants to keep me here, he’ll have to hold me up with those big muscles he likes to flaunt around. But he doesn’t allow me to dangle for too long. Travis releases me, but on his terms— when he’s ready—and my ass hits the floor with a loud thump.

“Aww, little V is all worked up.” He stands over me with a confident smirk that I’m tempted to slap off.

I pull myself up on my feet and push a finger to his chest. “Touch me like that again and it’ll be the last.”

“Are you sure you’d want that, princess?” He’s not at all affected by my threat and it pisses me off even more.

“Fuck you,” I hiss.

“Now you’re talking about fucking,” he says with amusement in his tone. “All these mixed signals are getting confusing.” He glances down my body and pauses on my nipples that are so hard they could etch glass.

Quickly, I cross my arms but it’s way too late; they’ve already given me away.

He slowly lingers over my curves, and I realize every insecurity I have is on display for him to judge. As a sarcastic laugh escapes him, somehow I know it’s at my expense.

With nostrils flaring, I try to speak in the calmest voice I can as he moves toward the doorway of his bedroom. My hands find their way to my hips because I’m not standing down. Not this time. Not ever.

“This is war, King.”

“Game on, princess,” he says before slamming the door in my face.