I suck at writing.

This was crap. All. Crap.

I pushed my notebook away in frustration—a twinge of disgust ebbed inside me. When that didn’t help, I threw my pencil at the white wall in front of my boyfriend’s bed.

I had been lying on Shane’s bed for twenty minutes or so working on lyrics to a soon-to-be song that wouldn’t leave me alone. Phrases kept popping into my head, distracting me from school, my friends, and everything else—pestering me. If I didn’t get this song out, I felt like I was going to go crazy.

Music was my second love; my boyfriend—my first.

Shane Braden was one of a kind and simply put, a great guy. I wasn’t sure how I’d lucked out with him being mine, but I thanked the Heavens I did. He had been the best thing that had come into my life, yet we were polar opposites. You know the saying, opposites attract? Well, it was true for us. He was good, and I was the bad girl. The one that got into trouble almost daily. Shane was the sweet one, and I was the bitch—or so Kylie told me on a regular basis.

Kylie Morgan was my best friend. She also happened to be dating my boyfriend’s best friend, which made the four of us pretty damn close. Our group was made up of six at one point. But a year ago, two of our close friends—Chance and Eve—dropped out of high school, and then moved out West, making us a foursome. It’s funny how I only clicked with those that had a different personality than my own. Kylie was the sociable one. Friendly to everybody and loved by all. She’d go out of her way to make others happy even if that meant doing something she didn’t particularly want to do. She was a true sweetheart.

I wasn’t like that. I wasn’t a follower. I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.

“What’s that look about?” I glanced in the direction of his smooth voice. Shane was walking into his bedroom. As he closed the door, my eyes roamed up his lean body on their own accord. He was wearing a long sleeve black Henley with denim pants. His deep, dark brown hair looked almost black, and his blue-green eyes stood out as though they had a glow to them. His eyes were his best feature—they were beautiful. My good-boy certainly looked the part of a badass, dark and dangerous guy, but he wasn’t. And that was the way I loved him. His heart was pure.

Mine, maybe not so much.

My own parents seemed to think I was the spawn of Satan. I could never do anything right in their eyes. So I stopped trying long ago.

Rolling onto my back, I took my eyes away from the guy who’d captured my heart back in eighth grade. He didn’t know that then. At least, I didn’t think he did.

I had fought him tooth and nail, not agreeing to go out with him for nearly a year until I finally caved. And not because I didn’t like him back. I did, maybe a little too much and that scared me. I didn’t think he could possibly like me that way once he got to know me more.

I was stupid. But I know myself well. I’m difficult.

We ended up having an on-again-off-again relationship for years because of me and my dumb insecurities. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I don’t like being on display for everyone to see. I’m not shy, just reserved.

Unlike Kylie and her boyfriend Trent, who were all about showing as much public display of affection as they could, I only got touchy feely in private with my boyfriend.

The times I’d break up with Shane, it’d only last as long as one week. I could never go longer than a few days without him near me. Without his touch. He was my anchor. And I was lucky he put up with all my crazy.

“This song,” I finally sighed. I was over it already. I wanted this shit out of my head. Done with, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate. Maybe it was broken. I didn’t know.

“What’s the problem, Love?”

See what I mean? Sweet. Love is my middle name, but Shane called me that instead of Whitney most of the time. He said he wanted to remind me as often as possible that I was his love. But he also used to tease me by calling me that when we were in elementary so . . .

His face came into view as he stepped next to the bed. Shane moved his Fender acoustic guitar from where it was lying at the head of the bed, to placing it in a standing position against his nightstand. Once he finished, he climbed onto the mattress, seating himself straddled on top of me. I won’t lie, I enjoyed the feel of his heavy weight on top of my small frame.

Another way we were opposite. He was tall, and I wasn’t. At five-feet-three-inches tall, I looked tiny next to my boyfriend’s six-foot height. He was not only tall but lean too, from running. So was I. It was one of the few things I liked about myself. That and my long, straight black hair and unnatural-looking eyes. But everything else . . . eh. I had no curves and small breasts. I wasn’t supple and soft like Eve.

Besides music, running was another thing Shane and I loved doing together. I found it was how I could best free my mind. Maybe that was what I needed, but at the moment, I didn’t want to move.

“This song won’t leave me alone.” I glanced over to where my notebook was lying. “I have most of it written, but it doesn’t sound right when I read it back to myself.”

“This again?” He looked down at me with those beautiful patient eyes of his. “You’re a brilliant songwriter. You need the melody to go along with it before you’ll like it, Love.” He paused for a short second as he peered down at me. “I want to read it.” He didn’t wait for me to agree. He never did, but that didn’t bother me either. This was how we worked. I wrote the words. He created the music.

Leaning forward, he grabbed my notebook, then rose back up. He wasn’t looking at me; Shane was looking at the page with my scribble written on it.

“Is this about me?” His smile was infectious. And cocky too.

“Aren’t they all about you?” I smiled up without shame. He was the only one that got to see my affectionate side. With him, I wasn’t guarded. I was free. I didn’t trust many people. At seventeen, I’d been burned too many times by my parents—mainly my wretched mother.

“And people say you aren’t sweet.” I rolled my eyes at his dig.

“I’m not trying to be sweet.” I rose up onto my elbows. “I’m trying to get this useless chatter in my head to stop.”

His smile left his face at rapid speed, and then I watched as his eyes turned darker. The green faded to allow the blue to burn into my violet iris’s. This stare made me want to cower and look away, but I didn’t. I wasn’t weak, and I’d never show weakness to anyone, not even to the boy above me.

Shane tossed the notebook where I heard it land on the floor, then he lowered his head, bringing it down only inches from my own.

“Nothing inside your head is useless. Your mind is as beautiful as your angelic voice. It ticks me off when you say shit like that.”

“Ohh. He cusses,” I mocked. It was rare to hear a bad word come out of Shane’s mouth. That wasn’t a bad thing because I said enough of them to cover us both.

I had a potty mouth.

My parents didn’t like Shane or any of my friends for that matter. They didn’t know him either. If they did, they would’ve loved him like I did. He was impossible not to love.

A few years ago, my parents met Eve, back when she and Chance still lived here in Mississippi. They took one look at her and immediately judged her as ‘bad news.’ She didn’t even have tattoo’s back then. After she had moved away, I heard she finally let Chance convince her to let him ink her skin. From what she has told me when we talk on the phone, she’s addicted. I missed my friend so much. But we were graduating high school in a few weeks, and both of them were going to come home for a few days.

“Just because I don’t see the need for excessive cussing, doesn’t mean I don’t, Whitney.” He lowered his head further, making me slide my arms down the bed so that my head could fall to the mattress.

“Your little brother cusses more than you do, and he’s a kid.” I grinned, trying to get a rise out of him. One thing I knew how to do well was to get under this boy’s skin.

“Shawn’s an immature little prick.” His palms slide slowly up the mattress about a foot away from my head on both sides.

“He’s cute. Get off his ass. Besides, he’s only that way when Trent’s little sister is around.” Which was a lot. Trent took overly protected brother duties to a whole new level when it came to that girl.

“Why are we talking about Shawn and Taralynn?” His lips were inches away from mine, and all I wanted him to do was press them against me. Okay, I wanted him to do a lot more, but we had to start somewhere.

“No idea. Kiss me.” His eyes glanced down to my mouth, a smirk forming on his lips seconds before he planted a swift kiss on my nose.

He was rewarded with a glare.

So not what I wanted, and he knew that.

“Kiss me properly, dammit.” I lifted my head an inch or two off the bed, trying to line my lips up with his. All he had to do was meet me halfway.

He didn’t. Instead, he moved to my left where he pressed his lips to my cheek, then slowly made his way to the shell of my ear.

“What do you really want, Love?” he whispered, tickling my ear. “My lips or something more?” He pressed his hardening cock against my center, making my head spin, and my body shiver with anticipation.

“I want everything.” And that’s exactly what he gave me.

Whoever thought premarital sex was a sin hadn’t been with Shane Braden. There was nothing about him that was sinful. He was everything right in my life. Those blue-green, ocean-like eyes were where I saw purpose, love, and happiness. I didn’t get lost when I looked into them. No, I saw everything clear as a cloudless day. Shane was my now and my future. He was my calm. Well . . . unless he was making my heart race like it was doing right then.

The second his tongue met mine was the moment the ending of the song played out in my mind.