Wicked Hearts Read online

  Me: Good, I’ll see you Saturday!

  Macey: Say hi to Summer for me xo

  Sinking back against the leather booth, I pocketed my cell phone. “Everything okay, babe?” Jack asked, and I smiled.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  I couldn’t tell him the truth though. I couldn’t tell him I was relieved to find out the boy who broke my heart and then stomped all over it wasn’t going to be at Kyle’s engagement party.

  Because Trey Berrick was a secret.

  My secret.

  And he had to stay where bad-boy-heartbreakers deserved to stay.

  In the past.

  Chapter 2

  Trey

  “Holy shit, man, you look like my dad.” Deacon grinned at me from across the kitchen and I flipped him off, as I fumbled over the tie in my hands.

  “It’s our first official dinner with her parents. I have to make an effort.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, but, it’s so... not you.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I eyeballed him in the mirror and his face paled.

  “Forget I said anything. I’m sure Callie will love this new improved version of yourself.” He cracked open a beer and leaned back against the counter. “How is the lovely Callie anyway?”

  “Good,” I said a little too quickly. “She’s good.”

  “How is it you of all people bagged one of the hottest girls on campus again?”

  Wouldn’t you like to know? Grumbling, I threaded the end of the tie through the loop and yanked hard. “What can I say? She’s a sucker for a big dick.”

  Deacon exploded with laughter, spraying beer into the air. “You sly fucker. I knew you were still in there.” He rubbed his chest. “There’s the Trey I know and loved from freshman year.”

  I winced at his words. The second half of freshman year I’d been a mess. Drunk. High. Unfocused. I’d fucked anything with legs just to forget about my sad little existence. It got so bad I almost got kicked out of college. Of course, my old man had refused to let that happen. So here I was; wearing a crisp blue button down with a navy tie, ready for dinner at The Rialto with my steady girlfriend and her richer than rich parents.

  “I’m joking, fuckface.” I said. “It was a joke.”

  He tipped his bottle toward me and laughed. “I don’t know what she did to you, man, but you’ve changed.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? But change was good, wasn’t it? I was twenty. A man. It was time I started acting like one. Besides, it was only dinner. It wasn’t like I was signing my life away to Mr. Timson or anything. It was just a friendly dinner with my girlfriend’s parents.

  So why did I feel like I might puke all over myself at any second?

  “THERE THEY ARE.” CALLIE squeezed my hand, guiding me toward her parents' table at the back of the restaurant as if she owned the place. All eyes were on Callie: men stared, no doubt imagining her naked; and women sneered, probably imagining their husband's imagining her naked, but that was the effect Callie had on people. She walked into a room and everyone took notice.

  The restaurant was some fancy place downtown, full of Beverly Hills' elite. I tugged at my collar again. I felt like I couldn’t breathe in the damn thing, but The Rialto was not the kind of place you turned up to dressed in shorts and a basketball jersey, or even jeans and a clean t-shirt for that matter.

  “Ah, sweetheart, you made it.” Mr. Timson rose from the table, his tailored suit putting my dress pants and shirt to shame. “Trey, nice to see you again,” he said coolly.

  “You too, sir,” I said, waiting for him to hug his daughter before shaking my hand. Callie chose the seat between her mother and father, leaving me no choice but to take the one between her and Mr. Timson. If it was possible, my collar grew tighter.

  “So, how’s school?” Mr. Timson asked over the top of his menu.

  “Good, great.” Callie beamed at her father. “But I’m so ready for spring break.”

  “Ahh yes, I remember those days well.” His mouth curved as if the guy had actually lived a little at college instead of focusing on his future and grand plans of world domination in the real estate business.

  “Samantha has invited us out on her family’s boat next week.” Callie’s gaze slid to mine in silent question. Please say yes, the words glittered in her hazel eyes.

  “That sounds lovely, sweetheart,” Mrs. Timson finally joined the conversation. “Doesn’t that sound lovely, James?” She patted his hand.

  “Actually,” I cut in. “I could do with the extra study time. Get ahead of the game and all that. So I was hoping Callie wanted to stay in Westwood with me.” I flashed her my own silent question, but her smile slipped, her eyes lowering away from mine.

  Shit.

  She was pissed.

  She’d been hounding me for weeks to agree to the trip with her best friend, Samantha, and her boyfriend, Kennedy. But I couldn’t think of anything worse. Sam had made her feelings about me known on more than one occasion, and Ken, well he was a younger-version of Mr. Timson. A self-serving judgmental asshole. It was a disaster in the making and yet Callie wouldn’t let it slide. She thought if we all hung out, got to know one another better, it would smooth the cracks in our already tenuous relationship. But I knew Samantha Yale, and she would use it as yet another opportunity to remind Callie—and me—why I wasn’t good enough for her.

  Like I needed a reminder.

  “I like your dedication, Trey. It’s refreshing when a young man chooses his future over the chance to live it up.”

  “Daddy, don’t be so uptight.” Callie and her mother shared a snicker. “It’s college. We need to experience things now before life gets too serious.” Her eyes found mine again, the same time as her foot slid up the inside of my trousers.

  I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as my dick sprang to life.

  “Everything okay, son?”

  “Yeah, I mean yes, sir. I just need a drink.” I pulled at my tie again, regretting the decision to think I could pull off wearing one.

  “Of course.” Mr. Timson flagged down a waitress and ordered a round of drinks, and then proceeded to order our meal. “I’ll have the filet mignon, rare, with potatoes and a garden salad. Are you a steak man, Trey?”

  I nodded, suddenly realizing he had the only menu on the table. “Excellent. He’ll have the same. My wife and daughter will have the salmon in white wine sauce.” He handed the waitress his menu with a smile, as if he hadn’t just ordered our table’s entire meal.

  I knew the man was a controlling asshole; you didn’t run a multi-million-dollar company without being a control freak, but I was capable of choosing my own meal, of ordering my own meal.

  “Are you okay?” Callie leaned across to me, her voice low. “Did you not want the steak?”

  “It’s fine.” I forced a half-smile, relieved when another server appeared with our drinks. At least he’d had the forethought to order me a beer and not the fancy wine he and his wife were drinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I’d first thought. We could eat steak, drink beer, and talk about school.

  But then he said, “So, Trey, have you thought about your plans for after college? I know you’re playing basketball, but I do hope you’re not pinning all your plans on a professional career in sport?” And just like that, the rug was pulled from under my feet.

  It was going to be a long fucking night.

  “THANK YOU.” CALLIE laid her head on my shoulder as we walked to her off-campus apartment. “For coming tonight.”

  “Yeah,” I said, not trusting myself to say anything else. I was still reeling from our evening with her father. The constant grilling, the way he flaunted his power and money. I’d known they were rich. Knew Mr. Timson was a ruthless businessman who had built his company Timson Real Estate to where it was with blood, sweat, and tears, mostly Mrs. Timson’s if tonight was anything to go by. But I hadn’t realized the guy was such a pretentious asshole. By the
end of the meal, he’d made one waitress tear up when she brought us the wrong drinks order, and almost refused to pay the check because he found a stray hair—that could have easily been one of his wife’s bottled blonde strands—in his salad. Thankfully, Mrs. Timson managed to talk him around and we’d slipped out of the restaurant without a huge scene.

  Callie opened the door to her shared apartment in Westwood Village, and we slipped inside. “Sam’s over at Ken’s.” The seductive tone of her voice might have hit me in all the right places if I hadn’t felt so suffocated by the events of the evening.

  “Great,” I muttered, but quickly corrected myself. “Guess we’re home alone then?”

  Her eyes glittered with lust as she unbelted her long jacket and slid it off her shoulders, before kicking off her heels. Callie was beautiful. She had a slim delicate frame with curves in all the right places, and long wavy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face. Then there were those smooth, tanned legs that went on for miles. She was every guy's wet dream and Deacon was right, I was a lucky son of a bitch to call her mine.

  “Trey?” her voice softened. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were quiet on the ride home.”

  “Is he always like that?” The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. I didn’t want to fight, not tonight. Not when she was staring at me like she was starved, and I was the only thing on the menu. Yet, maybe I did want to fight. Maybe I wanted to lash out until she looked at me like the piece of shit I really was. Because despite her asshole of a father, Callie deserved better. She deserved someone who was with her one-hundred percent. Someone who only thought of her skin, her touches, her curves, and mouth.

  But for as much as I loathed myself over it, I wasn’t that guy.

  I was the guy pining after a girl he could never have.

  A bastard.

  I liked Callie, I did. I just didn’t like her the way I was supposed to. Because part of me belonged to a raven-haired, smart-mouthed girl with a chip on her shoulder and pain in her eyes.

  Fuck.

  I dragged a hand down my face, ready to apologize, but Callie cut me off. “What do you mean?”

  “N- nothing. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go to bed.”

  But Callie glowered at me, her temper rising to the surface. “No. I want to know what you mean.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder, her head cocked to one side. Watching. Waiting. Cutting me with a look that made me feel about ten inches tall.

  Letting out a resigned sigh, I said, “Your father, is he always so... controlling?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s not...” Her brows knitted. “Okay, he is a little. But he means well.”

  “Babe, he ordered my meal. I’m a twenty-year-old guy. I can read a menu.” I laughed hoping to lighten the mood, but it came out all wrong. Strangled and bitter.

  “But you like steak.”

  “Yeah, and I also like burgers and chicken. But that’s not the point.”

  “So, what is the point?” Her brow shot up, and I hated the way she was looking at me. Like I was a piece of shit on her shoe. Lowly. Less than her and her asshole father.

  Christ, I was a fucking mess. Even now, after all this time, no matter how much I tried to get my head straight—to push her out of my thoughts—I couldn’t.

  And it had me all messed up inside.

  “I can order my own fucking meal, Cal, and did you see how he treated the waitress? I’m pretty sure she’ll never look at another bottle of wine without crying.” I snapped, harsher than I intended. She blanched but only for a second. Then she narrowed her eyes, probably regretting ever laying eyes on me.

  “You’re an ungrateful bastard,” she seethed.

  “Yeah?” I smirked. “And you’re a spoiled little bitch.”

  She flew at me, her hand colliding with my cheek, the sting vibrating through me. “I hate you.”

  Good. You should.

  “We can’t all be as perfect as you,” I mocked, and she brought her hand back to hit me again, but this time, I caught her wrist, pinning it in the air. “Trey,” it came out breathy. “What are you—”

  My lips crashed down on hers, angry and bruising. Callie moaned into the kiss, her tongue wrapping around my own, fighting for dominance. I picked her up, forcing her legs around my waist and spun us around, pressing her against the wall.

  “I need you, now,” she said, no, demanded. And I hated it. I hated that she thought she could control me. So I did the only thing I could.

  “Beg,” I replied, kissing her harder, letting one of my hands trail up the column of her neck, holding her there against the wall. Easing back, I nipped at her bottom lip. A soft growl tore from her lips as she tried to fight against me, to take back control.

  “I’m waiting,” I taunted. But Callie wasn’t the prim and proper girl she’d have her father believe. Squeezing her thighs together, she pulled me closer into her, rolling her hips against me.

  I fought a groan. Fuck, she felt good rubbing on me like that.

  “Now who’s in control?” she teased. Her eyes were alight with desire, her skin flushed. She wanted me. She wanted this. Needed it the way I did. It’s why we’d lasted so long; because I wasn’t the only fucked-up one in this relationship.

  We’d danced this dance more often than I cared to admit. I’d piss her off, or she’d do something to rub me the wrong way and then we’d fight. And then we’d fuck. It wasn’t always like this. We occasionally did normal couple stuff. But this was when it was most real. When our masks came off and we could stop pretending.

  Callie kept moving, grinding on me, trying to kiss me as I stared at her, trying to see her. Trying to see beneath her mask. I knew her story, knew what made her settle for a relationship with someone like me, but we didn’t talk about it. Just like we didn’t talk about my secrets.

  “Fuck me, Trey,” she whispered. “Fuck me until I forget.”

  I could have said no. I could have lowered her to the floor, smoothed down her dress and taken her to bed like a gentleman. But I wasn’t the good guy in this story.

  My hand slipped between us and I snapped my belt, pushing my jeans down my hips. Callie helped, shoving her panties to the side while I lined up my dick, sliding it through her wetness. There was a split second where our eyes met, and some unspoken message passed between us. I wanted to believe it was a mutual understanding. But it was gone as quickly as it had been there, then I was sliding deep inside her, losing myself in the feel of her tight around me.

  We were opposites. Callie was light and I was dark. She was everything I never wanted but needed.

  We shouldn’t have worked.

  But right now, like this, skin on skin, demons fighting demons, we helped each other.

  And it was enough.

  It had to be.

  SUNLIGHT FLOODED THE room as I cracked open an eye. The bed was empty beside me, the sheets already cold. “Cal?” I said, pushing up onto one elbow. Her bedroom was tidy, no signs of the wreckage from the night before.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” She breezed into the room as if we hadn’t fucked one another like wild animals last night. Placing a mug of coffee down on the nightstand, she smiled down at me. “I let you have a lie in.”

  “What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes.

  “A little after ten.”

  “Ten?” I shot up and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s Saturday,” she said. “You don’t have anywhere to be, I thought—”

  “Yeah.” I sank back down against the pillows. “Thanks.”

  Callie perched on the end of the bed, her eyes tracing my naked chest. I rose a brow when her gaze finally met mine and her cheeks flushed. “We should probably talk about last night...”

  “Should we?”

  “I’ve been thinking.” Her eyes darted away which wasn’t like her. “I need some time...”

  “Time?” I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Our relationship wasn’t exactly conventional, but she’d ne
ver called time before.

  “Yeah. I love you, Trey. You know that. But this, us, the cycle we seem to be stuck in... it’s not healthy. Sam says—”

  “Sam?” I groaned. “You’re letting Sam dictate our relationship now?” Running a hand over my head and down my neck, I glared at her.

  “She’s my best friend, Trey. And she knew we were... incompatible.”

  “Babe,” I said, forcing myself to calm down. “You need this. Just like I need it.”

  “Come with us next week.”

  My brows knitted at her sudden outburst. “Wait a minute. You just asked for time and now you’re asking me to come on the trip?”

  “Well, will you?”

  “Shit, Cal, I’m not su—”

  “See, this is what I mean.” She inhaled a sharp breath. “We’ve been dating for almost eight months and you still hesitate—”

  “I don’t hesitate.” And we hadn’t been dating for eight months. We’d been fucking for eight months. The dating—the stopovers and meeting the parents—didn’t happen until much later. “Sam and Ken aren’t exactly my kind of people.”

  “But they’re my people, Trey. If you really want this to work, you’d do this, for me.”

  Shit. She was right. Of course she was right. But part of me couldn’t help feeling manipulated. It wasn’t like she made any effort to get to know any of my friends. She rarely came over to the house I shared with Deacon and two other guys from the team, and getting her to attend my games was like a fucking miracle.

  “I’ll—”

  The shrill of her cell phone cut through the tension and Callie lifted a finger to me while digging in her jean pocket. “Sam, we were just talking about...” Her face split with a wide smile. “You’re kidding? Sure, I’m in. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Everything okay?” I asked, brows raised.

  “Sam’s mom was supposed to be taking her to Hill Country Club and Spa for the weekend, but something came up, so she asked me if I wanted to tag along.”

  Of course she did. “For the whole weekend? But I thought we were going to—”