Good Girl Complex Read Online Elle Kennedy

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, College, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
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“Come on, if you two have crazy-good sex or something, just say so. That I understand. Get yours, you know? I’d respect it.”

She looks straight ahead, as if there’s any chance of her ignoring me in this four-foot-wide tin can. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“I know it’s not for the money,” I say. “And the fact that you never talk about him tells me your heart’s not in it.”

“You’re way off.” Mac snaps her gaze to me, lifting a defiant chin. There’s all sorts of fight in her now. “Honestly, I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Oh, is that right, princess?” I can’t help myself. Getting a rise out of her kind of makes me horny. “When’s the last time you touched yourself thinking about him?”

“Fuck off.” Her cheeks turn red. I can see her biting the inside of her cheek as she rolls her eyes.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he gets you hot and bothered just walking into a room.”

Her pulse is visibly thrumming in her neck. Mac adjusts in her seat, crossing her ankles. As her gaze flicks to mine, she licks her lips and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am.

“There are more important things than chemistry,” she says, and I hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“I bet you’ve been telling yourself that for a long time.” I slant my head. “But maybe you’re not as sure of that as you used to be.”

“And why’s that?”

“Okay,” the attendant announces, “hang on. Counting down from ten. Ready?”

Oh, fuck it.

“I’m calling in your marker,” I tell her.

“My what?”

“Eight. Seven.” The attendant counts down.

“The bet we made, remember? The night we met? Well, I won, and I know what I want as repayment.”

“Six. Five.”

“Cooper …”

“Four. Three.”

“Kiss me,” I say roughly. “Or tell me you still don’t want me.”

“Two.”

“What’s it gonna be, Mackenzie?”

“One.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

COOPER

We’re propelled into the air, and for several heart-stopping, stomach-twisting moments, we’re sort of frozen in time. Pinned by the force of the ride as the ground disappears beneath us. A brief, spectacular moment of weightlessness lifts us from our seats and then the tension of the cords releases slightly and we bounce, once, twice, past the highest point. I turn my head and that’s when Mac’s lips find mine.

It’s like an electric shock, a sizzle of heat from her lips straight down to my groin.

She grabs me, finding fistfuls of my hair, kissing me wildly. She tastes like sugar and endless summer nights. I’m hungry for both as my tongue slicks over hers and we soar so high it feels like we might never come down.

Her gasp heats my lips.

I drive the kiss deeper, swallowing her soft moan.

The basket bounces again, slowly descending on our return to earth. We part only to suck in a startled breath, and I have to remember where we are to stop myself from tearing her clothes off. I’m hard and hungry.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” Mac adjusts the straps of her tank top and wipes the smeared lipstick from her lips.

“I’m not sorry,” I tell her. Because I’m not. I’ve wanted to do that for weeks. And it’s all on the table now. We set fire to the pretense, and there’s nowhere to go but forward.

She’s silent when we leave the ride. Maybe I came on too strong. Scared her away.

When I realize she’s leading us toward the exit, I swallow a sigh.

Yeah.

She’s definitely running scared.

“I’ll take you home, if you want,” I offer, following her toward where we parked the truck.

“I want to say goodnight to Daisy first.”

I don’t bother to correct her this time. Guess she won that battle.

“I’ll catch a cab from your place,” she adds.

The entire ride to my house, I’m convinced I’m never going to see her again and I’ve screwed this whole plan. My head is reeling, trying to think of something to say, some way to mitigate the fallout. All I come up with is a dozen ways I want to screw her brains out. Which isn’t helping.

“He grounds me.”

Her quiet statement has me glancing over in surprise. “What?”

“Preston. There are many reasons I’m with him, but that’s a big one. He keeps me grounded.” From the corner of my eye, I see she’s wringing her hands. “Reminds me to be more restrained.”

“Why do you need to be?” My voice is gruff.

“For one, because my dad is in the public eye.”

“So? Your father made that choice. You don’t have to turn yourself into a plastic person because of his life decisions.” I frown at her. “And you don’t have to put up with a boyfriend who keeps you on a leash.”

Her eyes flash. “I’m not on a leash.”

“What do you think ‘restrained’ means?” I say sarcastically.

“I said he reminds me to restrain myself. He’s not the one doing the restraining. Whatever. You don’t get it.” Lips flattening, she fixes her gaze out the passenger window.


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