Remi's Choice: The De Luca Boys Read online

  Remi's Choice

  Amanda Wylde

  Remi’s Choice

  Amanda Wylde

  Copyright © 2016 Amanda Wylde

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To A."H" C. For encouraging me to do this and thank you for ALL your help!

  This was SO much fun!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Travis

  Then

  The moment I hear my mother's words in the kitchen, I jump out of bed and storm down the hallway. "Did you just say—?" I start to demand as I stalk into the kitchen where she and our neighbor Maggie are about to take a shot, but my mother puts her hand up before I can finish.

  "Yes, I said Remilynn will be here in twenty-minutes, and I want you boys on your best behavior."

  "That's bullshit. We had a deal!"

  "Language!" she says then downs her shot. "And this is exactly why the deal is off."

  "But you said—"

  "The deal was, if you could stay out of trouble, I might trust you to be in charge the next time I needed a sitter." She sucks on a lemon wedge then laughs at the grimace on Maggie's face.

  "That was one time," I argue. "And it wasn't even my fault."

  "Two days after our deal, Travis." She holds up two fingers. "Two days and the cops were at my door with you. I'm sorry, but I don't trust that if I leave you in charge I won't get back to this house burnt to the ground."

  The doorbell rings and Tula, my mom’s Chihuahua, goes crazy barking. I glare at my mom then glance at Maggie who does a little pout before opening her compact to check her makeup.

  "Fuck!" I mutter as I storm out of the kitchen.

  My mother hollers something else about my language and how one of these days I'm going to trigger one of her epileptic seizures. She's always used this same guilt grenade, yet not once have her seizures ever been triggered by anything in particular. They're completely random. Maggie then follows up with something about teens and me getting over it.

  This was beyond acceptable. It was one thing when Remi was in high school and I was still in middle school for people to know she was babysitting me and my siblings. But I'm a sophomore now, almost seventeen, and she's a senior in the same high school. I've shot up about a foot taller than her in the last year. I probably outweigh her by at least forty pounds, and she's coming over again to babysit me?

  My mother insists it isn't me she's watching. She's hired to keep an eye on my younger brothers, who I'm not trusted to look after myself. But it still feels like she's here for me too. If Remi wanted to be catty about it, she could tell everyone at school that she babysits me.

  Luckily, it's the only thing I can breathe easy about. So far, Remi hasn't been like that. Still, I'm certain she's shared with someone, her sister or best friends, that once again she's been asked to babysit the De Luca boys. Which includes me.

  The only good thing about having her as my sitter is I get to be around her and make her squirm. Despite my being almost two years younger than her, I know I'm far more experienced than her in every way.

  She may be the adult in this particular situation, but I'm the adult of the two when it comes to everything else. With a mother who parties several times a week and gets home too smashed to notice me gone all night, I've done plenty of reckless partying and had my cherry popped several years ago. I've also popped a few virgins myself. And I'm certain Remi is one. I can practically smell her sweet throbbing cherry every time I get close enough.

  Because I just know by her sweet and timid demeanor that she still hasn't given it up to anyone, Cherry's been my special name for her for years. At first I told her it was because of her red hair. But eventually I let her in on why I really call her Cherry. I'll never forget how blood red her face went when I explained my special name for her. At first, she balked at the name, ignoring me when I used it. But over the years I've begun to think my private name for her might turn her on. She even answers to it now.

  Another thing I'm pretty sure of, based on the amount of trembling she does when I get close enough lately, is that I secretly light up other parts of her body. Of course I do so as often as I can. My consolation about my mom hiring her to watch us is that Remi doesn't presume to be my sitter. She and my mother have already talked about this. I overheard them once. Remi has about as much control over me as my mother does—none.

  So my mom doesn't hold anything against her if she gets home and I'm gone—disappeared into the night without a single indication of where I am. This is what I plan on doing tonight just as soon as I have some fun with my babysitter.

  If my mother is going to force this humiliation on me, then I'm forced to do what I've done with all the other sitters I've run off: taunt Remi mercilessly until she refuses to come back. Only I've been doing this with Remi for some time now, and I'm beginning to think it's why she keeps coming back.

  I've been in my room for over an hour since Remi got there. After smoking half a joint and listening to music, I'm pretty sure my brothers have eaten and are back in their bedroom, playing video games. I have about fifteen minutes before the guys arrive to pick me up. Just enough time to have a little fun.

  I stroll out into the front room and see the back of Remi's fiery red head on the sofa. I can hear her giggle that sweet way she often does when she's being playful with my brothers. The way she never is with me.

  "No," she says in a hushed voice. "You can't come over. I'll get in trouble. We almost got caught last time, remember?"

  I stop in my tracks. The last few times she's been over I've left just like I'm planning on doing tonight. Has sweet little Remi snuck someone in here before? Curiously, that amuses me as much as it pisses me off.

  She sure plays the innocent part, and there is no way her face going so bright red at some of the things I say to her can be faked. Yet, she's been sneaking boys into my house?

  "I trust you," she adds. "I just don't want Ms. De Luca to fire me or, worse, tell my dad."

  Holding my breath, I wait in hopes of hearing a name. Was it the meathead jock I often see her with at school or the class president who's always sniffing around her? The one who's so full of himself? Does it really matter? I can already tell, regardless of who it is, I'll hate him instantly.

  She sighs heavily then finally whispers the most infuriating sentence I've ever heard in my life. "Okay, but just for a few minutes."

  When I'm certain she's off the phone, I walk in the room, grinning, but
not as genuinely as I normally do. "You having company over, Cherry?"

  Her head jerks around to face me and she stands up. "No," she says quickly. "My friend is just . . . dropping something off."

  "Is he now?" I ask, peering at her knowingly.

  I size her up shamelessly as I always do, feeling my evil grin wane a little as I take in the short tank she's wearing. It doesn't quite reach the top of her jean shorts, giving way to a glimpse of her milky white midriff and a very sweet navel.

  The worried expression and her pinched brows would be amusing if the thought of her being here alone with her friend wasn't so fucking irritating suddenly.

  "Who's your friend, Cherry?" I say, taking a few steps closer to her.

  "Chaz," she says, making my face sour instantly.

  "Chaz?" I ask, not even trying to hide how disgusted that makes me.

  Not that I care if she knows how much the very thought of Chaz in my house is a nauseating one. But I don't want her to get the idea that the thought of her with Chaz in my house is what has me feeling so revolted.

  "You're hanging out with Chaz McDouche?"

  "McDougal," she corrects me, lifting her chin up a bit. "And no, I'm not hanging out with him. He's dropping off my iPod. He borrowed it the other day."

  "Why can't he drop it off at your place?" I ask, taking a slow deep breath as my eyes make their way down her long legs.

  "Because I'm here tonight, and he's going to be in the area later. But he's not staying."

  That last comment feels like something she added out of fear I might mention her little visitor to my mom. Normally, I'd be smiling by her unnerved demeanor. Instead, I feel my jaw lock as my eyes make their way down to her midriff again and then back to her anxious blue eyes.

  Her face is turning that familiar tint of crimson it always does when I leer at her this way. "You really trust he's not gonna try and hang out with you?"

  "I already told him he can't."

  "Did you tell him that last time?" I ask and her eyes widen. "When you nearly got caught?"

  "We just watched TV," she says, and I can see her determination to keep her composure. "But I hadn't asked your mom if I could have a visitor, so I was still nervous."

  "Who almost caught you?" I ask as my curiosity spikes.

  She clears her throat and presses her lips together before she speaks again. "You did."

  Now I smirk more from feeling stunned than anything. "I did?"

  "Yeah, the last time I was here."

  It suddenly dawns on me. "I got home after midnight. He was here that late?"

  "He got here late," she explains, glancing around as if someone else might hear, then lowers her voice. "He'd gone to a party and stopped by after. He'd only been here a few minutes when we heard you come in through the back."

  Fuck! How I wish I had actually caught them. Just from the very thought of whatever I might've walked in on, I know I would've gotten such pleasure out of throwing his fucking ass out. "So he ran like a little bitch?"

  "I made him leave," she says, her eyes growing even more anxious. "Please don't tell your mom, Travis. If she tells my dad—"

  She stops talking when I take a few more steps toward her. It still amazes me that this petite little girl is eighteen—an adult. I could easily fling her over my shoulder and into my bedroom if I so well pleased. Which I do. But I won't. Though I distinctly get the feeling she just might like that.

  I don't comment on her going silent. Instead, I stare at her naturally soft red curls. They're such a direct contrast to her big deep blue eyes it makes me wonder. "Are you red everywhere, Cherry?" Instantly, her face nearly matches her hair, and it makes me smirk, but just as fast, my jaw locks again. "Would Chaz know the answer to that?"

  "No, he wouldn't," she says immediately. "We're just friends."

  "Does any guy know the answer to that?" I ask, staring at her lips.

  I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that too, since once again I can practically smell her mouthwatering cherry—imagine it aching in the way she reacts to my question. But I also know there are other things I could do to her that would reveal the answer to my question without having to take her virginity.

  "That's none of your business," she says with weak conviction.

  Her words are practically a whisper and I step closer. The fact that she doesn't move backwards, allowing me so close to her I'm practically touching her, pleases me.

  I won't ask the obvious because I already know the answer to that. I make her nervous. I always have, even before my growth spurt last year.

  I've been hanging with kids way older than me since I was eleven, seeing and doing things no kid my age has any business doing. I lost my virginity at thirteen to a girl older than Remi. Like Remi, she was petite and much smaller than I was. I had such a foul mouth and attitude even back then; she easily fell for my lies when I told her I was seventeen. I also lied about not being a virgin; though I'm pretty sure she figured it out since I had no idea what I was doing. She taught me well, and I've since gotten very good at knowing what it takes to make girls tremble just like Remi is doing now. "Why do I make you so nervous?" I ask, breathing in the scent of her insecurity.

  "I don't know," she whispers back, not denying that I do, like I knew she wouldn't.

  Remi may be eighteen, but her body's reaction to me is exactly what a girl her age should be—innocently enthralled. I almost envy it. My innocence is long gone, but hers is exactly what draws me to her. She enthralls me like no other girl ever has. What I feel when I know she'll be around, makes me feel strangely innocent too. It makes my heart feel so crazy. Except unlike Remi, I'm better at concealing it.

  "I know you're a virgin, Cherry." She nods as her eyes close for a moment. "But has anyone ever licked your pussy?" Her eyes shoot open; her face turns such a deep shade of red I have to laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

  Now she does move away from me and stalks back toward the sofa. "That's none of your business either," she says as she plops down on the sofa and picks up the remote. "Don't you have some neighborhood to terrorize or walls to spray paint?"

  "As a matter of fact," I say with a smirk as I lick my lips. "My tongue just got a craving, so I think I will be going"—I stop at the sofa even if she does refuse to look at me and stares straight ahead at the television— "unless you'd like me to stay and indulge that craving here."

  Right on cue even her ears go bright red. God, she's easy and this will never get old. With a laugh, I grab my hooded sweatshirt when I hear the unmistakable car engine sputter outside.

  "Last chance," I say as I walk toward the door.

  She turns to me, and those already huge eyes go even wider when I flick the tip of my tongue side to side against my top lip.

  "Just go," she says as flustered as I knew that would make her.

  As much fun as that was, the unease of knowing that douche bag Chaz will be dropping by later and likely hanging out with Remi for a while, wipes the smirk right off my face.

  Chapter 2

  Remi

  Chaz texted me to say he probably wouldn't make it after all, and I'm actually relieved now. The conversation I had with Travis left me rattled for hours. I hate that he has the power to reduce me to a puddle. But what I hate even more is that his sixteen-year-old smug ass not only knows it; he revels in it.

  For years, the way he looks at me has always made me anxious. I felt like a pervert that first time Ms. De Luca asked me to babysit. I'd been so fixated about the hickeys on his neck. At fifteen, I'd never even been kissed. I knew he was younger than I was, but I never would've by just looking at him. Still, the fact that I am almost two years older it feels weird to share with anyone what I've always wondered.

  If he's really as experienced as the act he puts on.

  I know all about the crowd he hangs out with. All of them are older. Most of them are drop-outs, and some even run with a local biker club. I feel for his mother. She has her hands full. I'm only surprised, even
at his young age, that he hasn't already moved out or been thrown in jail.

  He is everything I hate in guys: a disrespectful jackass, too damn full of himself. And that name he dubbed me with . . . I thought it was kind of sweet at first because for once he seemed genuinely nice about something, saying he loved the color of my hair. Then later he explained the real reason. Now every time I hear him say it and see the gleam in his eyes because I know what he's thinking, I blush clear up from the bottom of my spine to the top of my head.

  The year he started high school had been another nightmare for me. It was as impossible for me to not get caught up in his wickedly sexy stares as it was for him to stick with one girl. The girls, my God, are incorrigible. They shamelessly throw themselves at him even when they know he'll just use them, dump them, and then move on to the next.

  My only saving grace is that he shows up to school about as much as he keeps his smart remarks to himself. This year he isn't even doing the full-time thing. He's taken the online option. So he's only required to show up when he's ready to test whatever material he'd been given to do at home. That's usually only once a week.

  But I'd be a hypocrite to say I'm not just as incorrigible as all those girls I've deemed pathetic and desperate. I could easily say no to Ms. De Luca when she asks me to babysit. In fact, my dad prefers that I do. He trusts Travis as much as the rest of the neighborhood does. He doesn't want me around him.

  Yet, here I am, every single time. Heck, I've even cancelled stuff at the last minute just for the chance to be around him. But I much prefer being around him here alone than at school. Guys like Travis are not the kind of guys you want to be associated with. If anyone got wind that he and I are sort of friends, they'd automatically assume I'd already given him the goods. Something I'm becoming more and more afraid I just might if he ever asks.

  Tonight didn't count. He'd been teasing—getting his fix of my mortification. But what he does to me when he looks at me the way he did tonight is becoming too dangerous. His comment tonight was not without real curiosity.

  Unless you'd like me to stay and indulge my craving here.