The Jack*ss In Class (The Cocky Kingmans, #5)

by Amy Award

For all the readers who think you aren’t loveable. I know you’ve hidden yourself away, you protected that spark deep inside your heart, the one that burns with the light of your true self. It’s time to let that spark ignite. The real you is exactly what the world needs.

Artemis, that fall was epic.” “Shut up, mini-Kingman.” Artemis and Gryffin joined us, both covered in grass stains. She punched Gryff, in the chest this time. She should have been a boxer instead of a rugby player. “Your tackling form needs work.”

“Since he seems so interested in Beatrice and Benedick’s antagonistic courtship.” “Oh, you mean the way they use wit as a defense mechanism?” I didn’t look up from where I was doodling on my notebook. “Creating verbal barriers to avoid emotional vulnerability while simultaneously proving themselves intellectual equals? That antagonistic courtship?” Silence. Complete silence. Tempest turned around slowly, her dark eyes wide behind her glasses. “I...” Dr. Whitmore blinked. “Well, yes, actually. That’s quite⁠—”

Oh, ho. Not only was this book a romance novel, it was a really fucking dirty one.

She moved her finger to flip the virtual page, but her hand froze when I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Wait a second. I’m not done with that page yet.”

“This,” she gestured between us, “is you wasting both our time. You don’t need a tutor.” “Maybe I just want to spend more time discussing literature with a beautiful woman.” She was fucking beautiful.

“Flynn. One jackass in my life is enough.”

But everyone knew Kingmans played better when we were getting laid.

No, what got my engine revving was Tempest’s unimpressed “you actually do your homework?” And how much better it had felt to surprise her, to prove her assumptions wrong.

Just getting her to let me kiss her would be a challenge. Into bed, would be practically impossible. I smiled as I headed for the weights. I’d always loved a good challenge. I ate impossible for breakfast. In fact... I was really good at eating a lot of things. That was something else I’d love to surprise her with. And it would definitely be more fun than I’d ever had with any of my two-week flings.

“Tempest. Love. Light of my life. You cannot keep a secret baby donkey in your room without letting us help. It’s, like, against the sister code or something.” “Is there a sister code about adorable livestock?” “There is now.”

That startled a laugh out of her, a real one, rich and warm, and something in my chest expanded. Making Tempest laugh felt like winning the game. Better, maybe.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home.” I swept my books into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Tempest was slower to pack up. “Who said I was going home?” I grabbed the door and held it open for her. “Ah, trying to make me jealous with your hot date?” “If you count a date with a baby donkey, hot, then sure. I can see how you might find yourself competing against farm animals for dates.”

“Spill it. What’s got you more distracted than that time Hayes convinced you his cat could read minds?” “Seven of Nine Lives totally knew what I was thinking.” “Seven is a demon in a fur suit, and you’re changing the subject.”

“So you won’t mind if I make a move on her?” The water bottle crinkled in my grip. “What?” His laugh echoed through the weight room. “Wow. You are so screwed.” “You stay away from her, you hear me, little brother?” “We’re twins.” “I am still four minutes older than you.”

“So.” I tapped my pen against my notebook. “Deception and secrets. You have any thoughts about those lately?” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Just that you’re good at analyzing hidden motives in literature. Makes me wonder what you’re hiding.” “I’m not hiding anything.” But her hand drifted to her bag, where I bet that mystery notebook was stashed. “See, that right there?” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “That’s exactly what Iago would say.” “Did you just compare me to the villain?” “Nah. You’re way prettier.” I grinned at her eye roll. “Come on, Tempest. I know something’s up. You’ve been weird since our study date the other day.”

“Your writer face is showing,” Parker murmured as she passed by.

Damn it. I was not allowed to think of Flynn Kingman as a love interest.

“Enséñales cómo se dice ‘tiene el trasero increíble pero no tiene huevos.’”

“If you’re here to play hero again,” she said, poking my chest, “I don’t need saving. I have sisters for that.” “What you need is water.” “What I need,” she announced to the room at large, “is for certain football players to stop telling me what to do like... like...” “Like what?” “Like that.” She gestured at my face, then grabbed my beard and gave it a little shake. “All concerned and focused and... and Flynn-like.”

“Come here.” I sank into one of the oversized armchairs, hoping to at least get her sitting down before she fell down. “No.” But she swayed a little. “You’re not the boss of me, Flynn Kingman.” “Never said I was.” “Good. Because I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need...” She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the arm of my chair. “Doesn’t need...” “A hand?” She glared at me, but there wasn’t much heat in it. More like the way a grumpy kitten might glare at someone who’d interrupted their nap.

But Tempest shifted against me, making this little contented noise, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Let them take their pictures. Let them spread their rumors. Right now, all that mattered was the girl in my arms and the way something in my chest had finally settled, like a key clicking into a lock I hadn’t known was there.

“You planned this,” she accused. “You knew I’d get drunk and need water.” “Yes, that was my grand plan. Get you drunk by... leaving the party completely. So I could then rehydrate you.” “Shut up.” But she took the water, and some of the tension in my chest eased. “Your face is stupid.” “You just said my eyes were perfect.” “They can be stupid and perfect.” She took a sip of water, then immediately made a face.

“Uh, but you love two fiction genres...sci-fi and Shakespeare.” Jules’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, you’re flunking your class to get with your tutor? You’re disgusting.” “I’m not flunking anything,” I corrected quickly. “We’re in a peer tutoring program. And I don’t like her. She’s stubborn and sarcastic and completely immune to my charm and—” I stopped, realizing I was only digging myself deeper. Jules batted her eyelashes at me, grinning all innocent like. “Go on.” I sighed, dropping into one of the plush chairs with my mountain of wings. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s so not interested.” “The great Flynn Kingman, struck out?” Jules perched on the arm of my chair. “This I have to hear.”

“I don’t know what we are. She’s different.” “Different how?” “She’s not like the girls I usually... date.” The words came out before I could stop them. I didn’t so much date, as...fuck.

“Okay. I won’t taint your Cheerios with the most vile additives I can come up with,” Jules gave me a squeeze, and then punched my arm, a little harder than I expected. “And by that, I mean I won’t pee in them. I’ll forgive you, even if you are a total horndog who never dates anyone longer than two weeks.”

Me: Responsible shmesponsible.

Tempest: Being responsible is sexy.

“You’re just finally playing in her league instead of trying to get her to play in yours.” My Tempest was in a league of her own. And with her, I was playing in the pee-wees. But if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was up my game. Come class next week, I was going to be on the varsity get-the-girl team.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” I muttered, then immediately wanted to smack myself. I was not in love with Flynn Kingman. I was barely tolerating him for the sake of my mother’s expectations that I tutor an athlete.

He laughed, and something warm unfurled in my chest. I squashed it immediately. Flynn Kingman did not need to know he could make me feel warm and fuzzy.

“So,” Flynn said after a moment. “KATman, huh?” “Don’t.” “Don’t what? I’m just making conversation about this amazing social event that’s apparently coming up soon. Just how soon is soon?” “We’re here to study.” I pulled out my book. “Unless you’d rather talk about dances than pass this class?” “I’m definitely going to pass this class.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But I’d rather talk about why you’re blushing.” “I’m not—” My phone buzzed. A text from Parker. Parker: ASK HIM.

“Some of us have responsibilities beyond looking pretty and sacking quarterbacks.” “You think I’m pretty?” “I think you’re impossible.” I started packing up my laptop. “And I really do have to go.”

“Flynn...” The way she said my name did dangerous things to my heart rate.

“So that’s the girl who’s gotten under your skin.” She folded her arms, grinning at me like she’d caught me stealing cookies. “Gotta say, big brother, you’ve been holding out on us.” I grabbed a clean t-shirt from the laundry pile. “There’s nothing to hold out on.” “Please.” She rolled her eyes with the dramatic flair that only a teenage girl could perfect. “I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since... ever.” “Like what?” I pulled the shirt over my head, grateful for the momentary escape from her scrutiny. “Like she hung the moon and stars and possibly invented football.” I snorted. “You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.” “And you,” she pointed at me accusingly, “have been breaking your stupid no girlfriends, I only date someone for two-weeks rule. Admit it.”

Holy patron saint of women losing their hearts to sexy, sincere football players. Whoever that saint may be, protect me and my heart from this onslaught.

“Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “That leaves everything on the table,” Flynn called after him, then turned back to me with a grin. “Shall we?” Everything? Eek.

“You want to come?” “Well, yeah.” He looked almost shy. And I definitely did not find that the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

“Flynn.” She raised an eyebrow at me. I was going to kiss that look right off her face later. “Are you trying to get me to kiss you? Because I was sort of hoping you would do that when you picked me up.” I swerved into a parking lot and stopped short. In two point one milliseconds I had her lips on mine

“We have all night, and I’m going to make good on that promise to make you tremble for me.”

“How do you feel about heights, Kingman?” “I’m going out the window, aren’t I?” he asked with a grin. Parker peeked through her fingers, saw that we were both mostly clothed, and then gave us a salute. “The donkey delivery system is still in place. Hope you’ve got rope skill, dude.” Flynn waggled his eyebrows at me and smiled wickedly. “I’ve got skills with ropes you haven’t even seen.” Oh. My. Gawd. Parker leaned over and whispered, “It’s like he’s right out of a certain romance novel, isn’t it?”

The sight of her made my heart go all wobbly, warm and dangerously close to the emotional territory I usually avoided. But not anymore. Not with Tempest.

“You’re better than every fucking wet dream I’ve ever had,” he murmured, his voice almost awed. “So soft, and lush.”

I pushed the wet denim down his legs, kneeling to help him step out of them. The pure, unadulterated need on his face as he looked down at me on my knees in front of him gave me a surge of feelings I’d never in my life experienced before. I... I think it was a sense of feminine power. The knowledge that I was everything he wanted and more. Only with him. He was the only one who I ever wanted to make me feel that way.

“You’re a god damned goddess when you come. You did so well, and taste like a fucking dream. I can’t wait to make you come on my face over and over.” Somewhere in the haze I found my voice, though it was a little rough. “Is that what they mean when the books say he whispered sweet nothings?” He chuckled and held me tighter. “They aren’t nothings. I mean every word.”

“Tempie, my girlfriend, writes dirty romance novels. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” I was his girlfriend? “Ooh,” he said with a whole lot of excitement in his voice. “Does this count as research? Fuck, yeah. I am so down to get you inspired to write all night long.” Same.

Loving her wasn’t scary. It was the easiest, most natural thing I’d ever done.

“Then I volunteer as tribute. Use me and my body for all your research purposes.” “Research purposes, huh?”

“My queen, I’m a D1 athlete about to go pro. I’ve been training my body my entire life. I’m not some breakable toy. If I’m not man enough to have my girl ride me like a cowgirl, I don’t know what I have all these muscles for.”

Why were the sweet, innocent ones always the ones with the best imaginations? And by best I meant utterly kinky and wicked.