Very Wicked Things Read Online Free PDF

or safe. Making you entertain the idea of him. Of being his.
    It’s impossible though. He laid his heart at no girl’s feet. Hadn’t he told me so?
    Since our break-up—if you call it that—I’ve had a whole year to watch him and eavesdrop on every conversation I could with him in it. Conversations between beautiful girls who gushed on and on about how hot he was or how rich. The worse were the whispers about his prowess in bed. And when I could, I’d listen to him talk. I’d hear him talking to girls in the back of class, calling them baby this and sweetheart that. Gag. More often than not, that same girl would cry to her friends in a month or so because he’d moved on to someone else. And the guys? They talked about him with reverence in their tones. Like he was an idol.
    Bad guys are always the prettiest, but then pretty is an understatement when it came to him. He was simply more . So yeah, no way was I turning to face him. Nope. Just gonna stand here and pretend he was a rock and think of unsexy things, like the frog I had to dissect in science this week. Wait, better yet, I could think about Spider and how I was going pop him…
    He moved, selecting his English Lit book, startling me. Afraid of being caught, I turned back to my locker, pulling out my own book, angry that I’d allowed myself to dwell on him and his well-proven assets.
    It was over between us.
    He fumbled and dropped something. Cursing, he bent down, his body leaning close to mine, getting into my personal space. I told myself to step away from him, but my body didn’t obey.
    And he didn’t move either, as if he were mesmerized by something on the ground.
    Then his warm fingers slid up, up my calf, stopping at the top of my upper thigh, just at the hemline of my skirt. And my skirts are short, which meant his hand was nearly to my panties.
    How dare he touch me after a year of denying me even a single glance?
    I flinched and pulled away. Even though his touch had lit me on fire.
    And I hated him for it, for making me still want him.
    Long seconds passed as I waited for him to stand and face me, my head screaming at me to just walk away now, to snub him like he did me every day. A rush of adrenaline kicked in because I’d fantasized this moment a thousand times in my head. Images of me spitting in his face came to mind.
    He stood.
    He eased off his ridiculously expensive sun-glasses.
    Don’t look at him.
    Gazing at him was suicide for your soul.
    But basic need won out over self-preservation, and my blue eyes crashed into his amber ones straight-on, the force of his gaze making my chest tightened.
    Tick, tock.
    Time passed, maybe a minute or two. I really don’t know because everything but him zoomed out.As we studied each other,the sounds of students going to and fro and teachers starting class faded, leaving only us and the sounds of our breathing. The rumbling sound of thunder from the storm outside registered briefly, but then it disappeared as my vision narrowed in on him, blacking out everything. This was it, the moment I’d dreamed about, the moment I could lie and tell him that the way he’d destroyed me hadn’t really hurt. My heart was still in my chest; it still beat.
    I licked my lips, accusatory words rising up in my throat, but I swallowed down my bitterness at the expression I saw on his chiseled face.
    Because even though I remembered clearly what he’d done to me, it got all mixed up—and I deflated.
    Cuba Hudson, the hottest, richest, most popular guy on campus looked as broken as I felt.

 

     

     
    “ I can do anything but love you .”
    – Cuba
     
     
    A RAIN STORM battered my silver Porsche as I parked in the usual spot, unofficially designated for upperclassmen students only. A primo spot, it was under a shady oak tree and close to the main entrance to Briarcrest Academy. At least I wouldn’t get drenched in the downpour. Not like those poor freshmen who had to park out in no man’s land. I fiddled with my