Aubrey Wilson has the heart of an angel. As the type of person to always trust in others, she's admirable to peers. A total darling, but with a sadness that encases her heart. Anyone could shrink down in fright at the receiving end of Luke Taylor's infamous glare. Tall, muscular, dark-haired, and handsome, he's no stranger on or off the field. Not a kind stranger either. A total brooding asshole, but with a sadness that encases his heart. --- "You didn't have to hit him or anything," I lie my head on his broad, strong shoulder. "He shouldn't have touched you like that," he tucks a curl behind my ear. ~Strong Language~ ~Mild Violence~

She's a wild, free spirit who sees the good in everyone, and he's the hardened, bad-tempered loner who wants nothing to do with her-yet no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she's the one temptation he can't escape. *** He's never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she says every five minutes. He hates it. He hates how he can't stay away from it. He hates what she does to him; it's not like him to chase after some girl. She gets under his skin like no other. She's never met someone with such a bad attitude. He's ill-mannered and menacing. The glare never seems to leave his face. Considering it all, she can't help but feel the attraction toward him. Dangerous attraction toward a seemingly dangerous man. Maybe it's the tattoos on his arm that gets her attention. Or maybe it's because she can tell there's hope for good under his rough exterior. And she's about to find it, whether he likes it or not. It's no secret that the two of them are complete and total opposites. *** "You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing. He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl. He grips my chin harshly and kisses me. My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg goes all wiggly. He pulls away. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering. "I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk. *** #1 in Young Adult #9 in Badboy #1 in Cold #3 in Goodgirl #1 in Sweetheart #14 in Love *** *Warning* This story contains mature themes (language, scenes)

❝ 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄. ❞ 18+ | He was an English teacher because he liked to criticize people. His stormy, gray eyes never dared to show emotion, his nose was always sharp with judgment, and his lips wouldn't make an effort to smile. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐄 was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 the professor to mess with. She was an innocent student of his but had absolutely no filter. Perhaps that's what caught his attention at first. Along with her bubbly personality, terrible jokes, wild opinions, and gift in writing. Either way, he was interested. Not just in what she had to say, but in everything about her. 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍 seemed like the last person to major in Creative Writing, but give her a pen and paper and she's the deepest person you'll ever meet. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 was hard to forget about once you meet her. 𝙃𝙚 was as closed off as he was addictive. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 was one hell of a dangerous road to go down. 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I back up towards the door and he slowly follows, a certain emotion coating over his gray eyes and registering in his complicated brain. "How old are you?" There's something dangerous about the glint in his features, something of an evil awakening. "Almost twenty," I mumble, my hands pressed up against the door. I look up into his dark and cloudy irises, my legs turning into jelly. "Why?" "Just making sure I'm not breaking too many rules at once." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓-𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. 𝙊𝙛 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. Does contain mature content. Read at your discretion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~