Taken: His BFF 2 - Steamy BWWM Romance Collection: Ravished by You/Conquered by You/Avenged by You (Forbidden Fruit: Naughty Seduction Adventures Boxed Set) (6 page)

AVENGED BY YOU

By

ROWENA

FORBIDDEN FRUIT: HIS BFF SERIES

Cover photo by nelka7812.

Eromantica Publications

First Edition: June 2015

SYNOPSIS

Lonely Bridget
would love to get back at her ex somehow—to make him pay for how callously he dumped her. But she’s not a vengeful person, so she simply tries to move on from the sting of rejection and get on with her life.

Against her better judgment, she decides to attend a party thrown by her ex’s best friend, Scott—
a gorgeous, muscular guy
she harbored a light attraction for but never thought of pursuing.

But Scott has other plans for the dejected, no-longer-off-limits beauty, and he is determined to pull her out of the dumps and quench his own
burning secret desire
for her once and for all,
hard and unprotected
.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I: BRIDGET

II: SCOTT

III: BRIDGET

I.

BRIDGET

M
y gut’s telling me it’s a horrible idea to go to this house party where I know my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend will show up—particularly since it’s his best friend’s birthday party—but I want to prove that I’m the bigger person and that I’m over him. Besides, I sort of miss the birthday boy, Scott—he and I hung out a lot when I was with my ex and got to know each other pretty well. Scott felt like a real friend to me, so it really hurt when he disappeared once Darren and I broke up.

I mean, I
really
missed him—more than I expected to, to be completely honest. He must’ve missed me too, right?

Hot Scott
I used to call him in my head and prayed I never slipped saying aloud.

He is tall and broad-shouldered, and his face is ridiculously handsome. But still, my relationship with him was totally innocent and friendly. Super platonic. I appreciated his looks, yeah, but any human would, regardless of orientation or status. Seeing his amazing good looks for what they were didn’t mean anything more than that.

You have nothing to prove
, my gut tells me for the last time as I start getting ready.

I knew I could still text in some emergency and not show up—I still had time to save face. Because what if I wasn’t over my ex after all and everyone got to see my jealousy and shame when I finally come face to face with the girl who replaced me? I know I won’t be able to help checking her out—her hair, her boobs, her butt. Is she taller than me? Skinnier? White? Latina?

And it’ll probably kill me to see Darren’s arm around her, and god forbid, witness them kissing, which there’s no doubt they’ll end up doing at some point.

So why am I even going through with this? I’m obviously setting myself up for great pain and torture, and probably public embarrassment if I can’t control looking sad, or even worse, if I burst into tears and quickly run out of the party.

It’s just that I’ve been holed up since the breakup, and a party with a bunch of people I know sounds like the right thing to get me back out there, or at least remind me I don’t have to be alone.

It should be a fairly comfortable atmosphere—most of us heading there went to the same high school, so it’ll be like a mini-reunion.

Although what if everyone else has a date, unlike me? I try not to think about that.

Besides, what are the chances every single person will have a plus one?

Scott has his parents’ house to himself now that they’ve moved to another home, and it can probably easily fit fifty people, so there’s no way everyone’s coming all coupled up—some people go to parties just to hook up, so why bring sand to the beach?

Maybe I’ll even meet my next boyfriend there, and my ex can suck it.

I just hope I don’t end up looking too desperate.

I make sure to look as pretty as possible, which—don’t judge me—includes a trip to the mall so a makeup girl can do my face. It’s a free professional application, although I’m obligated to buy fifty dollars or so of makeup, but I’m due to restock a few things anyway.

I also make sure my hair looks loose and sexy, and I ask my sister to hook me up since she’s a hairstylist.

With my hair and makeup completed by pros, trust me when I say I’m looking better than my ex has ever seen me.

I’ve also lost some weight in my sadness, so I can wear sexier clothes more confidently, and I waste no time doing just that, slipping on a cute skirt that shows off my flat stomach, and a top that leaves my midriff bare, but still manage to look classy because of the long, stylish sleeves leaving my shoulders out.

I accessorize with earrings, bangles and even a navel chain (courtesy of my sister), and I cannot believe what I see when I look in the mirror—I’ve gained at least three points.

“Girl, he’s going to drool when he sees you and have at least one whole minute steeped in regret,” my sister says, her dark eyes giving me another once over, her reddish curly hair haloed around her head. She flattened my own hair out, blow-drying it, then giving me luscious dark waves hanging over my brown shoulder.

I’m so glad I chose not to live by myself—most people have issues rooming with close friends and family, but she’s my fraternal twin, and we’ve been dealing with each other’s personalities and habits since birth.

One day we’ll finally leave each other, but not yet. She might be ready, but I’m not.

Either way, she has never made me feel like a nuisance or burden though we get on each other’s nerves every now and then. But I think we both realize the value of our relationship, and having a friend nearby always trumps minor squabbles.

I asked her to come to the party with me, and I didn’t realize how much I wished I had moral support when she said she couldn’t go—she has a hairstyling gig for some photo shoot.

“You’re lucky I was even able to spare you an hour,” she said, as she prepares to leave our apartment. “Anyway, have fun, babe, and I mean that. Seriously. Don’t let Darren get in your head, and if you’re feeling someone else there, don’t be afraid to let
their
head get in your…”

“All right, sis, I get it. Sheesh!”

I feel my heart sinking as she disappears, feeling alone once more.

My sister was always the more liberal one of the two of us, and she believes firmly and one-night stands and the like. I’ve never had one myself, and I can’t imagine starting now.

My ex was my first, and I didn’t let him touch me for three whole months.

We stayed together for three years—all through our high school senior year, and throughout his first two years of college. When he came home for the winter break in his third year, next thing I knew—bam, we’re over.

He waited until after we slept together again of course before breaking the news to me.

The breakup was due to long distance woes—he didn’t want to be unfair to me while away—he didn’t think he could stay faithful at all.

I appreciated his honesty, and I won’t say how pathetic I made myself look trying to stay together with him, but in the end, it was definitely for the best.

Next thing I knew I heard he had a girlfriend over there, and they’re still together.

I eventually realized he probably started seeing her before he came home for the break.

I’m not petty though—I’m not gonna try to find an opportunity to let her know he slept with me probably after he had started sleeping with her.

Besides, maybe he told her. Maybe she encouraged him to get one more for the road. Who knows? People are sort of freaky these days, and I certainly barely recognized him once he came home and dumped me, so who knows who he is now?

It’s been six months since the breakup, and I haven’t really had to deal with him or people he knows all this time, but he’s back in town for the summer and it will be all in my face.

I’m glad the huge improvement in my looks wasn’t just in my head—when I enter the party, everyone’s eyes seem to get stuck on me, and I can tell it’s not just because they want to watch my face for whenever my eyes finally find my ex and his new beaux.

I don’t see him for a while, too busy smiling here and there at staring faces.

The attention makes me flush, especially when I notice the birthday boy, Scott, also looking at me in open-mouthed appreciation, his eyes burning.

He looks even more handsome than I remember—tanned, healthy-looking skin, lush brown hair, and those ridiculously gorgeous gray eyes framed with generous dark lashes. His tall frame seems a bit bulkier, like he’s been working out, and I try not to look too long at the exposed masculine forearm exposed by his rolled up dress shirt.

His jeans hug him in all the right places, and I find myself thinking,
Goddamn
.

He just looks like he smells good too, and I know I’m about to find out. It’s coming—a welcoming hug—and I just know I’ll get lost in whatever cologne he chose for the night.

I feel myself melting under his high-wattage welcoming smile and unwavering gaze, my body heating up.

Why do I feel so vulnerable to him all of a sudden? Just because his ‘fine factor’ went up even more?

Of course I know that’s not all there is—I’m still sort of mushy and weakened from the breakup; plus, it feels so good to see a familiar face, and not just any familiar face—the face of a guy who had always been friendly and open to me. A guy who went out of his way to make sure I felt accepted, and to some degree, loved.

Which was why it was so hard to have him disappear on me—I thought our deep affection was truly mutual, but it seems he was just playing a part. I guess he would have treated any girl of my ex’s the same, and the thought of that sort of breaks my heart too.

I feel a growing jealousy of the thought of him interacting with Darren’s new girl the way he used to interact with me.

I briefly look away from him, and my eyes finally catch up with my ex and his girl, and I can feel my smile drop, no matter how much I tried to maintain it.

Thankfully, Scott saves me.

I had been so blinded by the sight of my ex that I didn’t notice Scott’s sudden dash toward me.

“Bridget!” he says in a joyous voice that finally pulls my attention, and I am suddenly wrapped in his masculine arms.

I bask in the glorious feel of his hard warm body against mine, and yup—just like I suspected, his cologne almost decimates me, and I suddenly feel lightheaded.

I’ll be surprised if I can form words again right away with my head suddenly in the clouds.

“My god you look amazing,” he says as he pulls back, hands still on my shoulders, and my brain gets stuck on the warm points of contact there, his fingers burning through my skin. “Welcome to my party! I’m so glad to see you, Bridge. Seriously, you have no idea.”

I can’t help but smile a wide, genuine smile now.

“Happy Birthday!” I say, making myself loosen up. “Of course I wouldn’t have missed it, Scott. Oh and I didn’t bring you a present because I couldn’t think of what to get you, but I was hoping you’d give me an idea, and I could send in a late gift?”

I bat my eyes playfully, hoping he’ll forgive my transgression. Truthfully, I had simply decided last minute to come, and spent too much time getting ready to even think of something.

“Hey, it’s enough that you’re here, Bridge, seriously.” His voice is lower when he adds, “I missed you a lot.”

He is looking at me intently.

My heart lurches and I try not to make too much of his words or that stare.

Then why didn’t you stay in contact?
I want to demand.

I mean, how could he have missed me so much and not done anything about it when I was still so easily accessible?

He did text me once to see how I was doing, and we had a brief back and forth.

It made my day, and I’d hoped he would continue to do it, but I never heard from him again—not until two weeks ago, of course, when he invited me to this party.

And now, finally seeing him again after so long is really doing a number on me.

“Bridget!” I suddenly hear from the side of me.

I turn, and it’s my ex, Darren, grinning at me with his girl by his side. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, although I can see she’s
really
trying to get it to. “Long time no see,” Darren continues, reaching out to me for a one-armed hug.

I lean forward a little as if reciprocating, and we maintain the necessary distance, not even my boobs touching him.

“This is my girlfriend, Laura,” he says, and I can tell she wanted to meet me just as much as I wanted to meet her.

We are both relieved when the quick interaction comes to an end, and the two of them take off with final waves.

I watch them start dancing, and Laura eventually gets more suggestive with her moves, grinding against him.

My attention is drawn away from them just as Laura is reaching her lips to his by another male voice—this time, Scott’s.

I gratefully turn to Scott.

“Wanna dance?” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

I happily accept the distraction.

We start dancing, but sort of just in each other’s spaces, not really touching each other. Still, I ask, “Aren’t you afraid Darren will get mad at you?”