Danny:
I can look but not touch. That’s the rule. That’ll keep us all out of trouble and ensure our trust funds are secure.
But some women are worth the risk.
I try to protect her from him.
I should protect her from me instead.

Mo:
Manwhore—and he’s not afraid to let everyone know it.
We aren't friends, not by any stretch, though I’ve always secretly hoped for more.
Then he touches me and I’m lost.
But Danny isn't just an average asshole.
He’s bad to the core.
SO. BAD.
****************************************************

Ch.1


***MO***

I round the corner and he’s there, both hands gripping some girl’s butt.

I stop, my foot poised for the next step.

Danny’s got her pushed against the wall. Her legs are wrapped around him, her skirt bunched at her waist. My stomach clenches tight and my heart jerks into high gear.

Do I turn and leave?

No. Rachel needs her stuff. She has packing to do.

As I pass by, the girl flips me off without breaking their kiss.

I make a beeline to get Rachel’s clothes. In the laundry room, I gather the things she asked for and hold them close, steeling myself to go by the groping couple once more.

I hug the wall as I come upon him and his—I don’t know, girlfriend? I doubt it. The tribal panther tattooed on his back stares at me and flexes as Danny’s muscles ripple when he rolls his hips forward. His jeans ride half way down his backside, while the dimples at his lower back, right above the curve of his butt, draw my attention. I try not to look, but that’s impossible.

He grinds against her. She pants and makes this sound, like a cat having kittens. Somewhere deep inside warmth curls and a pulse beats between my legs.

For the love of—

Yesterday, blonde on the hood of the car; today, a brunette in the hallway.

I avert my eyes. A condom wrapper lies at their feet.

“Classy.”