Someone Like You Read online

  Everything in me loosens as he gives his thoughtful explanation. Morgan Jordan is nothing but a softie—and one who plans on being responsible, at that.

  “Plus, it kills the chicks at the bar.” He gives a quick wink.

  And there it is.

  “Thought so,” I say. “That dragon is nothing but a means to an end. Way to go. Always have a visual to wow them when you’re no longer cognizant of what you’re saying. I bet you’ve got your pockets lined with condoms too.”

  He lowers his head and grows mysteriously quiet, and a little part of me is disappointed. I was sort of looking forward to a half-witted remark that I could come back at, slashing his masculinity to pieces and forcing him to bow to the master of underhanded comebacks. But he doesn’t say a word.

  “What’s the matter?” I nudge him playfully. “Dragon got your tongue? Is your resident dildo depressed as hell he can’t come out and play?”

  He ticks his head back, somewhat annoyed at my potshots at his nonvital organ.

  “Let me guess,” I tease. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?” God, I can’t even remember if I kissed it and made it better last night, and my cheeks burn with a fire all their own.

  “You got me.” He rises to his feet. “I’m all out of ammo. You win the first round, but I won’t be so kind tomorrow,” he says, heading into the hall.

  “Where are you going?” I’m quick to sprint in front of him and claim the room by hopping onto the mattress.

  It smells clean inside, no sign of an exploding suitcase with the aftermath splayed out in the four corners of the room. In fact, everything is laid out neatly and folded on top of the dresser.

  I lie back on the bed and prop myself on my elbows. A glint of silver catches my eye from the edge of the bed.

  Holy shit. There are bona fide chains hooked onto the bedpost.

  “I see you’ve unpacked the hardware.” I rattle it with my foot.

  “Not my equipment, baby.” It comes from him almost morose. “But if you feel the need to be bound and gagged, just say the word.” He bounces on the bed and groans as he throws his arm up over his eyes to block the light. “I’ll be happy to comply.”

  “Excuse me? I believe it’s me who’s sleeping here tonight.”

  “Good night, sweetie, try not to snore this time.”

  I open my mouth to protest and a brisk knocking sound emits from Kendall and Cruise’s bedroom—repetitive, endless knocking.

  Morgan pulls his arm back and looks over at me with wild disbelief as if to confirm his headboard-banging theory.

  A series of hearty moans comes from the next room and my mouth drops open.

  “Awkward,” I whisper.

  His face bleaches white.

  Kendall reaches a crescendo, screaming her satisfaction into the night as if she were shouting her endless chorus of yes, yes, yes right into our ears.

  “No, no, no,” Morgan groans, pulling a pillow down over his face.

  On second thought, maybe the worst form of torment Morgan can receive is sleeping right here next to Kendall and Cruise.

  I snatch the afghan from the foot of the bed and head out to the couch for the night.

  All night long I dream of Morgan helping me piece together that scrapbook.

  Morgan

  A few days float by with Ally working a series of steady shifts down at Starbucks, where I’m guessing she doesn’t hop on the counter and dance for customers under an assumed name.

  She’s been pretty good about steering clear of me and my hard-on at all hours of the day and night. She’s even slept on the couch voluntarily, but I don’t fight her on it. In fact, I might have to take her to dinner one night to thank her for preserving my back and therefore furthering my baseball career.

  Cruise offers to take me down to the gym and get me a temporary membership so “I don’t get rusty on the field.” As if. But I take the bastard up on it anyway.

  The Carrington Fitness Center meets all the criteria necessary for a workout facility—spacious, well stocked with the latest and greatest in fitness technology, and most importantly, it’s co-ed. Since Ally has firmly made up her mind not to entertain me or my balls under any circumstances, my dick has made the executive decision to move on. As much as I’d like to hang on for her, the head of my committee has vetoed my decision.

  “So how did you and Kendall meet?” I ask as we head into the weight room. Cruise looks lean and mean, as if he lives at the gym, but in reality all I’ve seen him do these past few days is disappear to the bed-and-breakfast, the questionable business venture he’s nailed himself to.

  “Frat party.” He gives a smile that disappears as quickly as it came. “She didn’t have a place to crash so I let her hang out at my house. Glad she did. Kenny’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says it like it’s no big deal.

  “Nice,” I say, unimpressed by the fact Kenny up and moved in with a guy she met at a frat party. “So you’re ready to tie the knot, huh?” I make my way over to the equipment, while he sets up a weight bench for himself. “Let me guess. The proposal came on night two?” I’m only half kidding. It looks like Kenny and Cruise give new meaning to speed dating.

  He shoots me a disgruntled look. “Yup. Wedding’s set for December. I would have done it sooner but she wanted to mark our one-year anniversary. Plus since your mom is getting hitched this summer, Kenny didn’t want to rain on her parade.”

  Weird how Mom and Kenny are marrying father and son. I guess his sister would be the next illogical piece to the quasi-incestuous puzzle, but I’m not into her. For one, she’s not Ally, and for two, I’m pretty convinced she’s jailbait.

  An all-too-familiar beauty wearing a skintight leotard struts in, and when she sees me her eyes expand as if I’ve just morphed into her favorite dessert. I shake my head as Cruise’s sister heads our way. Speaking of the horny devil.

  “You go here?” Molly speeds over, snapping a huge pink bubble as wide as her face. “I totally work here.” She bounces into me and chest bumps me by accident, inadvertently cluing me in on the fact they’re real.

  Cruise sits up from the weight bench, takes note of the titty-tap, and glares at me as if I had somehow initiated it.

  “So, like”—Molly tips her head toward the exit—“you wanna see a movie later or something?”

  I glance down at Cruise Elton with his balls in a knot over the idea I might be even remotely interested in his baby sister, emphasis on the baby, and I consider this. Pissing Cruise off seems like a pretty fair trade for boning my sister in a rather loud and obnoxious fashion, night after inglorious night. I’ve had about enough of his ape-like grunting, and to be honest wouldn’t mind an hour or two away from the freeze zone Ally put me under.

  “Yeah, okay.” I nod toward her like I’m interested. “We can grab a bite then figure the rest out later. Pick you up around six?”

  “Six!” She dips her knees, shouting it out like it’s her new favorite number. “I can’t wait!” She jets out of the room as if she’s off to get ready for our outing right this fucking minute.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Cruise says it bored, as if he’s on to the fact this little stunt was designed to solely piss him off.

  “Dinner and a movie, dude. Plain and simple.” I slip down on the weight bench next to him, more than pleased that I managed to make him uncomfortable. It’s about time I return the favor. “Nothing wrong with it.”

  “Yes. It’s very fucking wrong. Stay the hell away from my sister. She’s off limits.”

  “So is mine.” I say it just under my breath.

  A blonde trots over in our direction, skinny as hell but decent in the looks department.

  “Well, well”—her mouth falls open as she gives me the head-to-toe inspection—“who on God’s green earth is this?” She twists her hips as
if showing off the goods. On a scale of one to bed I’d say she was three beers and a maybe, but then again she’s no Ally.

  It’s just dawned on me that I’ve got a permanent hard-on for Ally Monroe with no cure in sight.

  “This”—Cruise points to me—“is none of your business.” He secures his weights, and she leans in low as if she’s about to slip under the bar and join him. Something is definitely up with the bimbo ready to limbo.

  And what’s with the diss? Now that Kenny is safely chained to his bedpost, he’s free to show off his curt and rude demeanor to the rest of society? I bet if Kendall saw how rude he was to this poor girl, she’d sock him in the nuts.

  The blonde struts over and extends her hand, unmoved by Cruise’s douchebag behavior.

  “Blair Lancaster.”

  I cut a quick glance to Cruise, who has ceased all weight-training operations to witness the exchange.

  “Nice to meet you, Blair Lancaster.” I give her bony fingers a firm shake. “Morgan Jordan.”

  Her mouth drops like a stone. “Jordan? As in Kendall Jordan?” Her eyes widen as if she were mesmerized by this bit of information.

  “That’s right. I’m her brother. I’m here for the summer for my mother’s wedding.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispers. “You are amazingly gorgeous.” She bites her lower lip as she appraises me in this new light. “Don’t you think so, Cruise? He’s like the male version of Kenny.” She says Kenny in a mocking tone. “You know—I do believe you need someone to show you around.” She brushes her fingers down my arm as if petting the dragon and cuts a quick look to Cruise to see if he’s watching the show. “I’d be more than honored to be that person. Hey. There’s a big frat party tonight. You should go. It’s a year-end thing. Trust me, you won’t want to miss out.”

  I nod. I think I remember Ally mentioning something about a frat party.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.” I cut a quick glance at Cruise. Sure enough, he’s frowning ten times harder than he was with Molly, although something tells me he doesn’t get the big-bro warm fuzzies over my new friend Blair.

  “Good.” She gives an aggressive nod. “I’ll be sure to find you.” She licks the circumference of her lips before strutting out of the room.

  “Dude.” Cruise leans up with a crazed look in his eye. “You can’t go to the party tonight. You just set up a date with my sister.”

  “You said to stay the hell away from your sister. I’m just obeying orders.”

  “I didn’t say to rip her heart out.”

  “Relax. I’ll take her to the party. She’ll probably meet some nice kid and make out in the corner, and I’ll get to know my local tour guide better. It’s win-win.”

  He shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want any part of that twisted tour guide.”

  I stifle a laugh. Watching Cruise squirm is more than a pleasure. “What to do, what to do…date Molly or Blair? Let’s see…” I pretend to mull it over while Cruise does his best impression of a raspberry. I press out a satisfied smile. “Oh, hell, I’ll just have ’em both.”

  Molly and Blair. I shake my head.

  Still not Ally.

  I pick up Molly at the B and B, and we ditch the movie for the frat party. Molly was more than onboard with the idea of rubbing elbows with the upper echelon of the future beer pong champions of America. Plus, the dildo debutants cluttering up the vicinity seem to be impressing the hell out of her.

  The music rails through a set of pristine Harman Kardon speakers, rattling the windows as we mill around inside. An entire army of well-dressed bodies moves through the dimly lit room of the supersized frat house. I didn’t catch the name out front but for all practical purposes it could be called Alpha Sigma Dollar, or more appropriately, Alpha Sigma Living-Off-Daddy’s-Dollar. But I’m not here to focus on frat boys. I’m strictly here for the ladies. Well, one lady, but that seems to be beside the point.

  The nice thing about the Greek system is that the girls don’t give a shit about the lettering as much as they do getting laid by a letterman. I’ve donned my team practice shirt for the night. It’s a magnet for the jersey chasers and usually doubles as an icebreaker. Molly and I make our way deeper in to the supersized frat house, which just so happens to be fully equipped with a keg in each of the four corners of its universe.

  “Can I get something to drink?” Her eyes enlarge at the sight of the beverage bar.

  “Sure. Knock yourself out.” I’ll have to monitor her in the event she blacks out in some frat boy’s arms. Just because I’m not planning on taking advantage of Cruise’s sister doesn’t mean I want others to.

  A hot blonde in the corner winks at me and ticks her head as if inviting me over.

  I pretend not to see as I pan the crowd for signs of the only hot blonde I’m interested in—Ally. Not sure why my dick has its compass set on Ms. High and Mighty. Maybe the fact she has a kid has something to do with it. Plus, she’s nice. She’s just misguided when it comes to guys who can’t wipe their ass with legal tender. If money were all it took to keep a relationship afloat, the wealthy would never divorce. Maybe I should clue Ally in on that well-known fact, but, then again, she seems hell-bent on exploring that theory for herself.

  A pair of long, soft arms slip around my waist from behind and my mystery girl grinds her hips against me.

  Looks like Molly is well on her way to a hangover.

  I swivel in her arms to find a familiar face beaming back at me, but it’s definitely not Molly’s.

  “Claire?”

  “Blair,” she corrects with a coy smile as if it really didn’t matter.

  A dark laugh gurgles through me.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Elton?” I ask. If I’m not getting lucky with Ally, I may as well settle a few mysteries.

  “Cruise?” Her tiny nose scrunches up as if she had to guess which Elton. Something is definitely up. “He’s just somebody that I used to know.”

  “Got it.” Disgruntled ex. I can spot them a mile away. Blair here seems brutally bitter, and if I didn’t know better she has me on the board for a little relationship revenge.

  I take her in under this new light. Her lips are smeared with the blood of her latest victim, while her paper-white skin glows like a dying flashlight. There’s something about her that screams vampire, and I’m betting it’s the fact she bites—hard—in delicate places.

  “So”—she gives a casual shrug—“did he mention anything?” The curiosity brews in her until her eyes look as if they’re about to launch across the room like bottle rockets.

  “He said to stay the hell away from you.” I give a sly smile. “Rumor has it you’re too hot to handle.”

  “Well. He was right. He should know—we dated for a small eternity.”

  Huh. I wonder if Kendall has anything to do with the bitter breakup. Not that I care. I have a feeling revenge sex with his ex is a great way to get under his skin. The way Kendall screams through those paper-thin walls makes me want to charge in with a shotgun and free her from his sexual dungeon. Turns out the room I’m in was his bedroom, which explains the chains and economy-size box of condoms in every drawer.

  Blair dances into me, brushing her chest against mine with an invitation. Her blonde hair whips around to the music as she sways to the beat, taking me with her.

  The music picks up pace, and Blair indulges in some hostile dry humping at my expense, but even with that raucous display of affection my dick chooses to lay low for the evening.

  A familiar, beautiful face catches my attention from across the room.

  “Ally,” I whisper as elation washes through me. Some moron steps up and shoves his arm around her neck before swiveling his hands down her back and covering her ass like a baseball mitt. “Who in the hell is that guy?”

  “What?” Blair pecks a string of kisses up my neck before
biting down hard over my earlobe.

  “Whoa.” I pull her away gently, and she leeches right back where she came from.

  The douche molesting Ally starts in on some hip-hop dance, twisting his wrist in the air like he’s riding a freaking pony.

  “Idiot,” I say under my breath.

  Blair pulls back and follows my gaze.

  “Rutger?”

  Rutger. Figures.

  His hair is combed neatly to the side. He’s wearing a light-blue sweater with a tie notched underneath, and he’s got on a pair of bona fide penny loafers like some fugitive from Wall Street.

  “He looks ancient,” I muse. The guy’s gotta be at least pushing forty.

  “He’s a grad student. A friend of Pen’s”—she points over to some stoner dousing his insides with a beer bong under the careful supervision of his frat brothers—“that’s Cruise’s half-brother.”

  “Is that so?” I revert my eyes back to the wizard of Wall Street cutting loose like he’s in training for a rodeo—as the clown. And somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you can connect the douche dots all the way back to Cruise Elton.

  He swings his hips into Ally’s. He pushes into her like he’s about to take her right here in the common room, and my blood pressure spikes to unnatural levels.

  “Would you relax?” Blair tucks her finger under my chin and pulls me in. “Ally’s a big girl—and I do mean big.”

  I glance over at her. Ally’s body is nothing short of perfection. I have no idea what the hell Blair is bitching about, but if she’s talking boobs, I’m in agreement. God smiled on Ally—twice. That’s for damn sure.

  “I wouldn’t worry about her. Rumor has it,” Blair continues her tirade, “Ally can manhandle the best of them. Besides, you’re my date. Remember?” Her hands find their way up my shirt as she backs me into the wall.