Wicked Needs (Wicked Bay Book 5)

By: L.A. Cotton

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let someone love you

~ N. R. Hart


I read the text again, feeling a frisson of anticipation spread through my veins. “Hey, Kara,” I said to my friend over the music. “I need to pee. I’ll be back.”

She nodded, going back to her conversation with our small group, and I wound my way through the house. Luke Taffia, my brother’s best friend, sure knew how to throw a party. But thanks to the Californian summer, most kids had moved outside to the patio to cool down. Which meant I was less likely to be caught. Still, it didn’t stop me from glancing around when I reached the stairs. Just in case.

Coast clear, I made my way up to the first floor, sticking close to the walls, the shadows dancing along the hall. My heart hammering in my chest with every step.

This was wrong.

On so many levels, it was wrong. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

And neither could he.

It had started off as a drunken mistake. Too many Jell-O shots and a bad case of wrong place, wrong time.

Really bad.

But five weeks later, and we were still meeting in darkened rooms. Leaving our shit at the door and losing ourselves in desperate touches and all-consuming kisses.

Tonight was different though.

Tonight, my brother and his girlfriend were here. And if they knew what I was about to do... I shuddered, shutting down that line of thought. Besides, this wasn’t about them. They had their happy fucking ending.

No, this was about me. About the darkness that plagued my soul and rendered me numb. So what, if I was making some less than stellar choices? My brother had spent a year stepping into a crudely formed ring and beating the shit out of strangers, to deal with his demons.

At least, this way no one ended up hurt. Not really. Not as long as it remained a secret.

The end of the hallway loomed up ahead, marked by a huge frosted-glass window and I paused, doubting myself. It was all I did lately. My head was a noisy place to be, and I just wanted it to stop. For the endless questions, and crippling fear and anger to stop.

Maybe this was a huge mistake, maybe—

The door creaked open, startling me, and I almost turned and walked away.

I almost made the right decision.

But his eyes glittered in the abyss, calling to the black parts of my soul. Which is why, when he offered me his hand, I took it. Yanking me into the darkness, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me back into his chest. Eager fingers slid up my neck, tilting my head to the side. His tongue swiped across the sensitive skin between my ear and jaw and I moaned.

“I missed you,” he said, the door clicking shut behind us.

“No, you didn’t,” I replied. “You missed this.” I turned in his arms, slamming my mouth down on his. He greedily accepted, parting his lips, letting my tongue glide against his.

Ever since that first night, we always met like this.

At parties.

Lights off.

With limited conversation.

As we kissed away our frustrations, his hands traced the curve of my collarbone, dipping down to my breasts. I arched into him, but he knew the deal by now, and no words were spoken as his tongue followed his fingers as they tugged the material down over my breast. And then he was sucking the pebbled skin, drawing my nipple into his mouth. Heat flashed through me, a bolt of lightning igniting a firestorm in my core, and I rubbed shamelessly against his thigh.

“So eager,” he whispered.

“Shut up,” I panted, gripping his hair, guiding him back to my chest, urging him to give me more.



Anything to make it all go away.

MACEY PRINCE TASTED like coconut and sea salt. And I couldn’t get enough.

Go figure.

I’d never looked at her like that before waking up naked beside her with the hangover from hell, but lately... well, lately she was all I saw.

“Are you wet for me?” I smirked, knowing she couldn’t see me in the darkness. She still tensed, hating the way I affected her. Because I did affect her. It was right there in the way her breath caught and her fingers dug that little bit harder into my scalp.

Since she refused to engage in conversation during our ‘meetings’, I decided to find out for myself. Trailing a finger down her ribcage and over the sliver of skin between her cropped tank top and skirt, I lingered at her waistband. Bringing my mouth back up to her, she pulled away, trying to regain the higher ground. But I’d learned a thing or two about Macey during the last few weeks.