Kissing The Bad Boy Read online

  Kissing The Bad Boy

  By Melanie Marks

  Copyright 2017 Melanie Marks

  Cover Image © Max kegfire | Shutterstock.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Kissing The Bad Boy

  Jeremy’s Kiss

  List of Melanie Marks Books

  Note: Melanie Marks’ newest book is: Jane’s Air

  (It’s available now)

  Newest Books by Melanie Marks:

  When You Noticed Me

  Jane’s Air

  True Love’s (Hot) Kiss

  Please Love Me Back

  Even When I Sleep

  Smokin’ Hot (Accidental) Kiss

  Heartbreaker Hanson

  Love Liam

  Kissing Kade

  Want to Hate You … Too bad I Love You

  The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss

  My Brother’s Best Friend

  Dearest (Hot) Enemy

  The New Boy

  My Stepbrother’s kiss

  My Forbidden Heartthrob

  (There are a LOT more books than just those)

  For updates and full list check Melanie’s website: byMelanieMarks.com

  (Check often as she’s always writing new books)

  Melanie Marks’ newest books:

  Jane’s Air

  and:

  When You Noticed Me

  BOOKS by Melanie Marks

  His Kiss

  Slumber Party Wars

  Fall For Me

  When You Noticed Me

  Jane’s Air

  Please Love Me Back

  True Love’s (Hot) Kiss

  Even When I Sleep

  Want To Hate You … Too Bad I Love You

  Heartbreaker Hanson

  Kissing Kade

  Love Liam

  Smokin’ Hot (Accidental) Kiss

  The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss

  Ex-Boyfriend

  The Player (plus: Ally Has Amnesia)

  Dearest (Hot) Enemy

  My Brother’s Best Friend

  The New Boy

  My Forbidden Heartthrob

  My Stepbrother’s Kiss

  The Dating Deal

  His Kiss

  Her Kiss

  Griffin

  High School Boys

  (High School Boys contains book #2 of His Kiss; plus Matt & Nicole in High School—their first kiss)

  Louder Than Words

  The Stranger Inside

  Newest book: My Brother’s Best Friend

  (Actually, there are a LOT more books than just those)

  For updates and full list check Melanie’s website: byMelanieMarks.com

  (Check often as she’s always writing new books)

  ***

  UPDATE: Newest book:

  Jane’s Air

  Seventeen-year-old Jane becomes an orphan and is pawned off by her aunt to work (and live) at the home (slash mansion) of the most handsome boy at Jane’s high school—Hunter Rochester. Hunter takes Jane’s breath away. But the handsome flirt is a mystery to Jane. Why did he persuade his mother to hire Jane to care for his little brother? And what other secrets is he keeping? (Jane has a secret of her own: she’s fallen for hot Hunter Rochester.)

  (Jane’s Air is available now)

  Kissing The Bad Boy

  CHAPTER 1

  I’m being kissed. That’s the first thing I notice. The second thing is, I’m thirsty. But the kissing part—Mmmm. My boyfriend (The Light of My Life for the past two years) (Mr. Golden-Boy of Jefferson High) (aka: Ashton Davenport), doesn’t usually kiss me like this—so hot and eager, and yummy and scrumptious.

  But he sure is tonight … or today, or whatever it is. He’s kissing me wild, as though he can’t get enough of me and my enraptured mouth. It has me on fire and breathless.

  … and thirsty.

  “You smell good,” he murmurs.

  His husky voice sounds far off, distant, as though it’s coming from the bottom of a well. Weirder still, it doesn’t sound like him, at all. It’s all throaty and husky and … hot.

  I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.

  I can’t think clearly. But nothing seems real—or right. For one thing, I’m pretty sure this guy isn’t Ashton. I mean, he’s lean like Ashton, yet much more rugged and muscular. It’s as though I’m entwined with a hockey player—straight out of my recent dreams. Mmmm.

  Actually, come to think of it, the guy’s hair feels different too. Shaggy and soft. Heavenly. Just like the kisses.

  I try opening my eyes, but can’t. I’m too tired. They won’t open.

  “Yeah,” I tell myself lazily, “this must be a dream.”

  The kissing continues, on and on. Delightedly, I just go with it. Let myself enjoy it (which I’m doing thoroughly), but slowly, slowly my hazy thoughts are beginning to lift. Little by little beginning to focus. This isn’t Ashton. It can’t be. Ashton is in New York. I’m not. I didn’t go with him. I’m … somewhere else.

  Where am I though? That’s the question. I can almost remember, almost, but not quite. I try to think—but it’s hard with the kissing. It’s tempting to just get lost in it some more, not bother thinking, just enjoy—only—only I’m beginning to think I’m actually awake.

  … pretty sure I am.

  My heart ricochets off my chest. Then—gulp!—WHO AM I KISSING??

  I jerk my eyes open. Suddenly, I do it easily, as though waking from a dream. Only I hadn’t been dreaming. There is a hockey player seductively kissing my neck.

  It’s bad-boy Cade Cole—(Dead-sexy Cade Cole)—from my high school. (And my fantasies.)

  My heart explodes.

  Cade Cole is kissing me?!

  What the—??

  “Hey, stop!” I yelp, pushing him away (though really I want him to keep going, keep kissing me hungrily) but I have a boyfriend, and this is wrong. And weird. I mean, hello how did I get here?—and where am I, and— “Stop!” I squeak again.

  “Why?” reluctantly Cade pulls away from me, looking bewildered. He even looks concerned now. “What is it?”

  His brow furrows. “What’s the matter?”

  His gorgeous face is flushed and his hair disheveled—because of me. Me! I’d had my hands tangled in ultra-sexy Cade Cole’s bad-boy hair, had his hot hungry mouth devouring mine. Whoa! Holy smokes!!

  WHAT is going on??

  Frantically, I try to place how this happened. How such an astonishing, bizarre, crazy thing could actually have taken place in real-life. I mean, you know, not just in my demented steamy dreams. Only boy, this is just like straight out of them—Cade Cole kissing me blind.

  No way. This can’t be real.

  Yet here he is—Cade Cole—only inches away from me, looking pretty real, totally real, studying me as though I’m nuts.

  He cocks his head, glancing from me to the distance I’d put between us, then back up to my eyes. He raises an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

  No, it’s me. I’m missing something. Like, how did I get here?

  This has to be a dream. Has to be.

  Think, Julie. Think, think, Think.

  —the mall. That’s the last thing I remember, being at the mall. Now, somehow, I’m here, on a couch with the guy I’ve tried my hardest all semester to stop fantasizing about. Yet now—somehow—I ended up here: doing exactly what I’d fantasized, being kissed wild by Cade Cole.

  This is insane. Seriously. And terrifying. I rub my face with my trembling palms, dying of thirst, but I can’t bring myself to ask Cade Cole for water, ask him for anything. I mean, this is Cade Cole. How did this happen? What is going on?

  I steal a quick peek at him, then dart my gaze away, trying to block out the steamy memory o
f his passionate kiss (Mmmm). Instead I scramble, trying to remember anything else. Like, how did this happen? How did I get here? The questions bounce around in my confused hormonal brain.

  Finally, I give up and just come out with it, “How did I get here?”

  I watch his concerned expression change to skepticism.

  “You came on to me—remember?” He says it somewhat dryly, as though he thinks I’m playing a game with him. As though he doesn’t care for the joke, but he’s willing to play along … for a while.

  But hearing I ‘came on’ to him makes me jolt, and sends me up in another round of flames—only now for another reason. This is a dream! It has to be! I wouldn’t cheat on Ashton. I wouldn’t.

  …But then again, I wouldn’t do any of this. No matter how attracted I’ve been to Cade Cole lately, I would never, ever “come on” to him. Never. Not even if I didn’t have my boyfriend of two years, sweet Ashton. Cade is hot as sin, but not my type. At all. My type is Ashton. He’s class president of our high school, and going to be going to Harvard. Cade Cole on the other hand is a hockey-playing player. A tough-guy bad-boy that likes wild girls. Not my type at all. Not even slightly. (Well, except in my dreams.) (So, I guess he’s kind of my type.) I just don’t like admitting it consciously. (Or at all.)

  For a moment Cade is silent, just watching me. Finally, he asks with a puzzled smile—you know, since I pushed him away and now I’m acting all angst-y, yet just a second ago I’d (apparently) been macking on him—so his smile is very puzzled, “What’s going on?”

  I shake my head grimly. “I don’t know.”

  I glance around the dimly lit room again, desperately trying to remember leaving the mall. That’s really, truly the last place I can remember being. At the mall, hunting down applications for a job.

  A chill runs down my spine as a disturbing thought crashes into my brain. “Did you give me drugs or something?”

  Cade raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t give you any.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Did I take any?”

  “I don’t know. Did you?” A hint of irritation has crept into his voice, but he sounds slightly amused as well, like he thinks I’m being a freak, but he’s willing to wait around for the punch line.

  “Look—Cade—I feel weird,” I explain, trying to stay calm. “I don’t do drugs. I just … I don’t understand what’s going on.” I rub my forehead.

  Nothing seems real. Everything has a fuzzy edge to it—like when you’re dreaming and you know you’re dreaming, but you can’t wake up. Or like when I fainted one time. When I woke, this was how I felt. All hazy and weird. Unreal.

  I look up at Cade. He’s staring at me, not ogling or anything. He just seems to be trying to decide if I’m a lunatic or not. I mean, the guy doesn’t know me, not at all. Well, hardly. And what he knows of me, well, (blush!) it’s a little crazy. (Okay, totally insane, actually.)

  And now this!

  Groan!

  Geez, who knows, maybe I am a lunatic. After all, this is completely bonkers.

  With trembling fingers, I rub my face again, wishing I had a different explanation—like the drug thing. An easy excuse. But all I’ve taken is my normal anti-anxiety meds. Nothing out of the ordinary. Yet this is completely out of the ordinary.

  I flick my gaze back to Cade. He’s watching me like I might start doing mime tricks or … have a seizure. He seems curious to find out.

  Grrreat.

  I swallow, trying to act casual for some reason. “So, um,” how can I ask this next question without sounding like a screwed up loon in need of a place called Sunny Brook Farms or Port Haven Mental Institute? “—how did we end up kissing on this couch?”

  Cade blinks.

  “I don’t know,” he says dryly after a moment. “I thought it was because we were mutually attracted to each other.” His jaw muscles flicker. “Guess not, right? This afternoon you turned into the nymphomaniac of my dreams, but now you suddenly remember you have a boyfriend, right?” He mutters, “—at least this time I actually got to kiss you.”

  I go up in flames, since I know what he’s talking about. And it’s not what you think—the guy doesn’t sit around pining to kiss me. It’s not anything remotely close to that. It’s something very embarrassing. Maybe even more embarrassing than this. Though okay, this is quite embarrassing, since I’d come-to moaning in his mouth. AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I GOT HERE!!!

  I bite my lip. “Where are we?”

  Cade squints his eyes, not like he’s mad, but like he’s beyond bewildered.

  He’s still watching me searchingly, apparently trying to decide whether to believe me or not. “My house,” he finally says. “Well, my brother’s house. I live here—with him … but I already told you that.”

  Yeah, I remember that just like everything else—which is not at all.

  This is freaking me out.

  Suddenly I spring up from his couch like it’s on fire. “I have to go.”

  “What?” Cade sounds incredulous, and seems to want to pull me back down beside him. Okay, probably not to continue our (hot) make-out, probably just to make me stay and explain. But he doesn’t do it, he doesn’t pull me back, or even touch me. Instead he winces and draws back his outstretched hands. Rather than clutching me like he seems to want, he uses his hot hands to rub the back of his neck, just watching me with his mouth slightly open, like he wants to shoot out a bunch of questions but is resisting. With effort. In fact, the not-pulling-me-back seems to be taking a lot of effort too.

  On shaky feet, I head for the door, but reluctantly turn back to Cade, realizing I need his help. I’m lost, completely clueless. “Listen, I have no idea where we are. Do you know where Westbrook Drive is?”

  Slowly Cade nods. “It’s only a few blocks from here.” He raises his eyebrows, “Want me to give you a ride?”

  His offer is sweet actually, totally nice, but I quickly decline. Profusely.

  He raises his hands slightly at my protest, like, Take it easy Crazy Girl, just being nice, but all he says is, “Okay.” He even laughs a little as he says it, and I can tell he is going to be scratching his head about me for days. And talking about me with his friends with amused bewilderment. Which makes my ears burn.

  But Cade doesn’t say anything else. He just silently watches me with his lips quirked and his eyebrows raised as I bolt across the hormone-filled room and out of his house, fast as lightning. The last view I had of him he was rubbing his chin with his eyebrows scrunched, watching me like, “What the—?”

  CHAPTER 2

  When I get home, my house is empty. Mom is still at work. Me and my mom are the only people left living here at our house. My brothers are older and away at college. And my dad, well—my dad is dead. It just happened recently. He died of a heart attack right before my eyes. We’d been in the middle of a conversation, talking about Ashton. Then dad just—died.

  I was seeing a therapist even before that. But seeing that—well, it didn’t help ease my anxiety.

  Nor has this incident tonight—you know, where I ended up making-out with the hot bad-boy of our high school—and have NO IDEA HOW it came to be.

  Shaking, I quickly collapse into the nearest chair.

  Breathe in, let it out slow.

  Okay, so I kissed the hot guy I’ve been dreaming about.

  Breathe in … out.

  Okay, I don’t remember how or why I ended up doing it.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  The phone rings. It makes me jump a mile in the air. But hey, it’s just the phone. Relax. It’s not the hot guy of my steamy dreams stalking me for more kisses (sadly).

  After my little heart attack, I grab the phone, though I know it’s not for me. No one calls me on our home-line.

  … well, except (as it turns out)—my therapist. Since it’s him on the phone.

  “Julie, I’m glad I caught you,” he says. “It turns out there was a mix-up with the anxiety medication prescription I gave you yesterd
ay.”

  My heart jolts. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes, please don’t take it. It was a prescription for one of my patients in an experimental program. The medication is part of a study—and not intended for anyone outside of the research program.”

  I thump my head on the table. “What does the medication do?”

  “Well, it’s still in the early experimental research stages, but it’s intended to help patients do things they are afraid to do—or basically, too anxious to do.”

  He adds, “But I had given you directions for the dosage of your correct medication. Who knows what would happen taking such high dosage of the experimental medication.”

  Um … I’d end up kissing the school bad-boy.

  —that’s what.

  CHAPTER 3

  ***CADE***

  CADE—Right after Julie ran from his house

  When cute little Julie Drake left my house all in a flutter I backed against my door and let out a breath. It was all I could do to not go chasing after her.

  Okay, I’d known when she picked up on me at the mall that something was up. I mean, the adorable girl has a boyfriend. One she likes to remind me about every time she catches me watching her. (And, okay, I watch her a lot lately.) The girl has me completely spell-bound. She has ever since I was in a car accident. I woke from it hearing her voice.

  I swear, her sweet angelic voice is what woke me from death’s grip; her pleading with me to come back to her. I’d used all my strength to peek up to see who was doing that, begging me back to life—and when I saw it was her, it was like my body told my conscious—okay, I’ll do it for her. Or maybe it was the other way around: my conscious told my body. In any case, right there, in the middle of the street, looking up to the angelic, heavenly creature (who really did look like one with the streetlight glowing behind her) I came back to conscious. And even though I didn’t actually know her, still I knew who she was: this dope, Ashton Davenport’s girlfriend. Still, I did it for her. Came back for her. I swear, at that moment, that’s all I did it for—her. ‘Cause man, I was in pain. A lot of pain. And it seemed way easier to let go. But she held my hand, and I held hers back. And when they lifted me into the ambulance, I still held on to it—her soft little hand.