Good Girl Complex: An Avalon Bay Novel

“Shower. Now.”

Cooper’s growly order sends a shiver skittering through me. We’d just run from the Jeep to his house, getting soaked in the process. I’m still in nothing but my underwear, and my teeth are chattering again. Luckily, I’m not cold for much longer. In his bathroom, Cooper cranks the hot water, and soon there’s steam rolling out of the tiled shower stall.

I strip out of the sports bra and panties and step into the shower, moaning happily as the heat suffuses my body. A moment later the temperature spikes another hundred degrees, because a naked Cooper is coming up behind me.

Strong arms encircle me, holding me against him. My back is flush against his broad chest. I can feel the long ridge of his erection pressing against my ass.

“You make me crazy.” His hoarse words are muffled in the spray of the shower.

“Really? Seems to me like you’re the one making me crazy.” I shiver in pleasure when his big palms slide up my ribcage to cup my breasts. My nipples pucker.

“You could’ve gotten hurt up on that roof.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Were you really scared here alone?” He sounds guilty.

“Kind of? I was hearing this shrieking from outside and the lights kept flickering.”

He chuckles. “The wind gets pretty loud here. And we need to rewire most of the house. The electrical sucks.”

“Stupid Evan,” I mutter, pissed that he’d managed to make me question my former disbelief in the existence of ghosts.

“How about we don’t talk about my brother when we’re both naked?” Cooper suggests.

“Good point.” I turn, reaching between us and taking him in my hand.

He shudders. “Yeah. Keep doing that.”

“What? This?” I curl my fingers around his shaft and give it a teasing stroke.

“Mmmm.”

“Or…” I give another pump, another slow glide, before sinking to my knees. “I could do this?”

Before he can respond, I wrap my lips around him and suck gently.

Cooper groans, and his hips thrust forward.

A rush of pure power surges through my blood. I could get used to this feeling. The satisfaction of knowing I’m the one who put that needy, desperate look on his rugged face. That right now, in this moment, I have him in the palm of my hand. Or rather, on the tip of my tongue. I give a little lick, and he makes a husky noise that brings a smile to my lips.

“You’re teasing,” he mutters.

“Uh-huh.” I lick him again, a long, wet swipe along the length of him. “It’s fun.”

His hand comes down, long fingers tangling in my soaked hair. The water beats down on us. Droplets cling to his chest before dripping downward, traveling over muscle and sinew.

I brace one hand on his firm thigh, wrap the other around his erection, and suck him deep. He guides me wordlessly, encouraging me by cupping the back of my head. My entire body is scorching, taut with desire. When I peer up at Cooper, see those tattooed arms, the stubble shadowing his jaw, and feel him throbbing on my tongue, I don’t regret a single thing that brought me to this point.

There’s fire in you, Mac. He’d told me that the night of the carnival. Said I get off on the thrill, on life. He wasn’t wrong. Since I broke up with Preston and started dating Cooper, I’d never felt more alive.

“I don’t want to come this way,” he mumbles, and then he’s pulling me to my feet and kissing me hard enough to rob me of breath.

His hands hungrily roam my body as his tongue toys with mine. I’m hot and achy and more than ready for him. But for all my thrill-seeking, unprotected sex isn’t on my thrill list, and Cooper and I only just got together.

“Condom.” I whisper the reminder against his eager lips.

Without argument, he shuts off the shower and we sprint into his bedroom, dripping water everywhere and laughing at our own urgency.

“On the bed,” he orders, devouring my naked body with his eyes.

My wet hair soaks the pillow the moment I lie down, but I’m too turned on to feel bad and Cooper doesn’t seem to mind. He’s wearing a condom and on top of me before I can blink. He kisses me again, hot, greedy, his tongue sliding into my mouth at the same time he thrusts deep.

I gasp, shaking from the jolt of pleasure that sizzles up my spine. I scrape my nails down his damp back and wrap my legs around him to draw him in deeper.

“You feel so good,” he croaks against my lips.

“So do you.” I lift my hips to meet his hurried thrusts, rocking against him. Mindless with need. “Faster,” I beg.

He moves faster, and it isn’t long before I’m seeing stars and trembling with release. He doesn’t last much longer than me. Soon he’s slamming into me harder, still kissing me, biting my lip as he comes.

Afterward, we lie on our backs and catch our breath. A feeling of pure contentment washes over me. I can’t remember the last time I felt so sated after sex. Sated in general.

“I’m still pissed you went up on the roof.”

I twist my head to look at him. “Seriously?”

“It was a dumbass move.”

“I stand by it,” I say haughtily.

“Of course you do.” It sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Or maybe he’s trying not to strangle me.

Apparently we both suck at backing down from an argument. It isn’t in our natures, I suppose. But I can live with that. I wouldn’t respect him otherwise. The last thing I want is a doormat.

On the other hand, all that bickering can’t be good, can it?

I sigh. “We argue a lot. I feel like that’s a second strike against us.”

“What’s the first strike?” he asks curiously.

“We’re total opposites. And yeah, they say opposites attract and fighting can be a healthy release of passion and all that, but our backgrounds are so different.” I hesitate, then confess, “Sometimes I have no idea how we’re supposed to fit in each other’s lives. And then add in the fact that you’re an argumentative jackass and I want to punch you half the time, and…” Another sigh slips out. “Like I said, two strikes.”

“Mac.” The mattress shifts as he sits up. Dark eyes peer down at me. Intense, with a hint of amusement. “First of all, they say? Who’s they and who cares? Every relationship is different. Some people fight, some people don’t. Some want calm, some want passion. We define our own relationship. And second, I hate to break it to you, but we’re both argumentative jackasses.”

I grin at him.

“The only opposite thing about us is our bank accounts. We’re a lot more alike than you and your uptight ex.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, it’s fucking so. You know what I think?”

“Please, do tell,” I say graciously.

“I think you were with that prick because he was safe. You said it yourself—he helped you stay restrained. And you needed that, because in your world, you can’t act out or be yourself or do anything that might bring negative attention to your family, right? Well, you don’t need to do that with me. Those two strikes you listed might be strikes in your other world, but here, you and me, we’re exactly who and what we need to be.”

My heart squeezes. Oh hell. When he says stuff like that, he makes it pretty damn hard to not catch feelings.

Bonnie: Won’t be home tonight! Try not to miss me too much, k? I know it’ll be tough but I have faith in you!

I grin at the text. Bonnie is the best. Sitting up in bed, I type a quick response.

Me: Oooh, staying out on a school night, you bad girl. Let me guess, you’re having a slumber party with … Edward?

Bonnie: You mean Jason. He just looks like Edward. And nope.

Me: Todd?

Bonnie: Out of rotation.

I scan my brain trying to remember who else she’d been seeing these past few weeks. But I’ve kind of been distracted by all the wild sex I’m having with Cooper.

Bonnie: Tell ya what, hun. Gimme the name of your townie, and I’ll spill all the beans about my new beau.

She’s like a dog with a bone, this one. Bonnie’s been on my case day and night about who I’m dating. I feel bad hiding Cooper from her—she was there when it started, after all—but I also know that knowledge in the wrong hands is a weapon. I’m not sure I’m ready to arm that cannon yet.

Me: My townie is still my dirty little secret.

Bonnie: FINE! Then mine’s a secret too.

Two seconds later, she texts again.

Bonnie: Who are we kiddin’? We both know I can’t hide anything from you. His name is Ben and he is beautiful!

She follows it up with a screenshot of an Instagram picture featuring a tall boy with the face of a Norse god.

Me: Niiiiice. Have fun.

Bonnie: Oh I will. See you tomorrow!

I set the phone on the nightstand and pick up my anthropology textbook. It’s Monday night, and while I’d rather be naked in Cooper’s bed right now, we spent all weekend together. So I’m forcing myself to stay in the dorm tonight. Not just to keep on top of my course work, but because too much time together could lead to burnout and the last thing I want is for Cooper to get sick of me. God knows I’m nowhere close to being sick of him. I spend, conservatively, three full hours a day fantasizing about him.

So, like a good girl, I finish all my readings for anthropology and bio, write an outline for my English Lit paper, and go to bed at the very reasonable time of ten forty-five.

Alas, the good night’s sleep I’d hoped for doesn’t come.

Around two in the morning, I’m rudely awakened by three consecutive phone calls from Evan.

Followed by a text message that reads: Forget it. Not an emergency.

If anyone else had been serial calling me in the middle of the night while maintaining it wasn’t an emergency, I would’ve told them to fuck right off. But the fact that it’s Evan gives me pause. We only recently exchanged numbers, after the night of the storm when I had no way to reach him. So I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be abusing phone privileges unless it was, indeed, an emergency. Or at least somewhat dire.

I shove my hair out of my eyes and call him back. “You okay?” I demand when he answers.

“Not really.” There’s a heaviness weighing down those two words.

“Where are you?”

“Outside Sharkey’s. Can you come get me?” he mumbles. “I know it’s late and I didn’t want to call but—”

“Evan,” I interrupt. “It’s fine. Just stay put. I’m on my way.”