Lauren was the most beautiful bride he’d ever seen in a white gown that looked like something you’d see on a princess.
His other princess wore her Kei-Kei and the elves dress. Naturally.
~ ~ ~
Get your next FREE book when you sign up for my newsletter.
Get started here: http://www.kyliegilmore.com/freebie/
Dear Readers,
What will it take to get Josh and Hailey from two boxers in a ring to friends? Maybe a sneaky jab right to the heart. If only their defenses were down long enough! For now, Hailey is too busy looking out for good girl, Carrie, who’s hell-bent on finding herself a bad boy for a fling. Would you like an exclusive sneak peek at my next release? Just click to sign up for my newsletter and you’ll receive sneak peeks, excerpts, and subscriber-only giveaways. Next up is Carrie and Zach’s story, Bad Boy Done Wrong, book 5 in the Happy Endings Book Club series. Join the club and get your happy ending!
Bad Boy Done Wrong (Happy Endings Book Club #5)
Good girl nurse Carrie Young only has to catch one glimpse of bad boy Zach Harrison with his wild hair, full beard, and hooded eyes to know he's exactly what she needs to get over all those wasted years with a repressed and controlling ex. Full seduction ahead!
Only the next morning, her bad boy doesn't disappear after having his wicked way with her and he's making her breakfast! WTF (What the fudge)! Did she do the bad boy thing all wrong?
Zach's no dummy. He knows a good thing when it falls into his lap. And if that means pretending to be a bad boy, he's game. No harm in a little role play, he figures. Besides, his work as an anthropologist will soon take him overseas. He's destined to be a lone wolf forever—near the action, not embroiled in it—great for his career and for ruining relationships. In the meantime, there's one naughty girl in need of a bad boy and he aims to please.
The Morning After…
Carrie Young woke with a satisfied smile fully prepared for her first ever walk of shame. She propped up on her elbows, suddenly alarmed. Something was very wrong. She was naked in the bed of a strange man's apartment with the delicious scent of bacon wafting through the air. WTF (what the fudge)!
She jackknifed upright. Was that pancakes too?
Weird. Did bad boys cook breakfast the morning after a wild night of debauchery?
She rolled out of bed and searched for her clothes. She found her purple dress hanging from a lamp where he'd tossed it and the matching pushup bra wadded on the floor nearby. Panties were nowhere to be found. Whatever. She was pretty sure going commando would be exactly what someone who just had a fling with a bad boy would do. She grabbed her purse where she'd dropped it by the bedroom door and slipped on her slutty black heels. But before she could enjoy her walk of shame, she really needed to brush her teeth. She hadn't wanted to skip the personal hygiene. She was in the healthcare profession after all (pediatric nurse).
She headed to the adjoining bathroom, pulled a small bag of toiletries from her purse, and inspected herself in the mirror. Yes, she definitely looked ravished. The layers of her blond hair were askew, landing just past her jaw at odd angles. She had beard burn on one side of her neck and her blue eyes were brighter than usual (or maybe that was her new contacts).
She finished up in the bathroom and followed the scent of bacon to the kitchen where Zach, a tall lean man in his thirties, stood barefoot in front of the stove expertly flipping pancakes in a white short-sleeve undershirt and dark green tartan plaid boxers. She flashed to a brief Outlander fantasy because tartan plaid, and his thick dark brown hair was on the longish side, curling at the nape of his neck. He had the kind of sinewy strong body that could easily lift a woman as he'd fully demonstrated when he (unknowingly) performed item number six on her secret naughty list, euphemistically named Carrie's Wish List.
A girl had to dream. Especially after dedicating six prime years—nineteen to twenty-five—to Edward, her super controlling ex. Toxic. That was what her time with him was, only she didn't see it for far too long. It had been more than a year since Edward, and now she was spreading her legs, er, wings. She'd been looking for the bad boy experience because there was just so much she'd missed out on in the bedroom. Edward had been very traditional—five minutes of missionary position on Friday night. With her, anyway, the cheating liar. The lying was even worse than the cheating because when she confronted him with her suspicions he made her feel like she was crazy. Turned it all around like she was the one with the problem. Edward had made her feel like a sexually depraved needy woman for years (when she was perfectly normal!) while he'd been hooking up with random women he met through a kinky sex app. He lied about it right up until she slapped a folder full of evidence in his hands. His excuse? He was keeping her pure as the future mother of his children. Twisted bastard. Lying was a hot button issue for her and she had zero tolerance for it in any form.
She pushed her ex from her mind. That time was past. Now she was taking back her womanly mojo.
Her stomach growled. She'd strut out of here right after breakfast. It would be rude to leave when Zach had gone to the trouble of making all this delicious food.
“Hi,” she said.
He whirled, a slow smile dawning. He had a full beard and she nearly squirmed remembering the unusual sensation of it brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck and breasts and belly. “Hi, Carrie,” he said in a deep honey voice that made her knees weak. “Hope you like pancakes.”
“I do, thanks.”
“Coffee's ready.” He gestured to the coffee maker, which had just beeped. “Help yourself.” He turned back to the stove.
“You're quite the host.” She set her purse under the square wooden kitchen table. Then she tried out the naughty girl thing on her way to coffee. “Zach, right?”
He turned, his light brown eyes narrowing. “Do you not remember calling out my name multiple times last night? You said you only had two glasses of wine.”
She blushed furiously, felt extremely naughty and bit back a smile as she poured herself a cup of coffee in the white mug sitting on the counter. “It's starting to come back to me.”
Suddenly he was at her side, taking the coffee from her hand, setting it on the counter, and then cradling her cheek, gazing down at her. She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes, definitely more than six feet tall. She felt small and petite, even though she was an average five feet five.
His lips brushed over hers in a whisper of a kiss. “Maybe you need a reminder.”
“I do,” she breathed, her entire body lighting up in memory of their wild night. Zach had been everything she hoped—sensual, insatiable, open to anything. Now he was going to let breakfast burn while he took wicked advantage of her and hopefully performed item number one on her wish list.
He bit her lower lip and then sucked it. “After I feed you.” He returned to the stove.
She wobbled and leaned against the counter. That was a bad boy for you—unpredictable, passionate, doing things his way.
She carried her coffee to the kitchen table and took a seat, carefully tucking her dress under her. There was only a half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, which was mostly empty. Just a black sofa, TV mounted on the wall, a desk with a laptop, and a bunch of boxes lined up on one side. Plain white walls, beige carpeting, no decorations except a dark red fleece blanket thrown over the back of the sofa. They were on the first floor of an apartment complex, end unit, she remembered that from last night. Definite bachelor pad.
A few minutes later, Zach served her a plate with three crispy pieces of bacon and two pancakes drizzled in syrup.
“Thank you,” she said, cutting into the pancake and popping a piece in her mouth. Omigod. It was amazing. He'd even warmed the syrup. She never knew bad boys liked gourmet cooking. Of course, he was extremely sensual and food could be a sensual experience. “Are these blueberry?”
“Yeah. They're in season. You like?”
She quickly cut another large piece. �
�I love them!” It was the first weekend of August. She should get some fresh blueberries too. There were tons of farmer's markets around this area of Connecticut.
“Good.” He filled a plate for himself, sat across from her, and dug in.
She'd nearly finished eating when it occurred to her she forgot to make conversation. The food was just so good and the silence hadn't felt awkward at all. She lifted her eyes to his. He gave her a small smile and kept eating. He was the quiet sort with a steady reserved demeanor, almost like he preferred to sit back and observe. Like a shrink would. Was he psychoanalyzing her? What did he do for a living? All she knew through the grapevine was that he was back home after being in “no man's land” for years. She quickly decided he couldn't possibly be a shrink because he was a total badass. All the signs were there—dark good looks, hooded bedroom eyes, strong muscular body, and deliciously dominating sexual confidence. Not to mention the scruffy hair and beard that screamed I can't be bothered with social convention. Plus Ethan, a cop friend of a friend, confirmed Zach was bad to the bone. If he had a motorcycle, she was totally going to ask to ride it.
Ooh! Maybe he was in a motorcycle club and cruised the back roads of outlaw country somewhere out west. Or maybe he led mountain expeditions in remote parts of the world and that was why he had the beard. To keep his face from freezing off. Or maybe he lived in the rugged Highlands hiking through rocky terrain with only his beard and a kilt to keep him warm.
She studied him for a moment, debating if she should share her wish list with him. She hadn't shared it with a guy before, at least not on purpose, but she'd dearly love to experience the other six things on it. Her list had seven items whittled down from the original thirteen, after her friend, Ally, had pointed out there wasn't much difference between some of the items. For example, “sixty-nine” had a blow job unnecessarily added to what she really wanted—a man to go down on her. She'd done the blow job thing; the other was new. No need to be redundant when she was living on the edge.
Zach leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and studied her through his naturally hooded bedroom eyes. So hot. She hoped she looked ravished and stunning, not like her usual bleary morning self. She took another bite of pancake and realized she was full. She eyed the remaining piece of bacon. She really shouldn't overindulge, but it had been so long since she'd had bacon. She wasn't much of a cook.
“Go ahead and eat it,” he said. “It'll just go to waste if you don't.”
“You can have it.”
“I'm good.” He watched her, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Something funny?”
He set his palms flat on the table. “I'm just surprised the woman who took exactly what she wanted last night is hesitating now over a piece of bacon.”
She snatched the bacon and took a bite. Effing delicious.
He leaned back in his chair and watched her eat. Feeling self-conscious, she studied the living room behind him with stacks of boxes lined up against one wall. What would a bad boy keep in all those boxes?
“You just move in?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
He didn't offer any more information. The strong silent badass mysterious type.
Still, she had to know something about the man she hoped would continue to rock her world. He'd been downright spectacular last night, bringing her favorite sex fantasy to life—alpha wall banger. “Where'd you move from?”
“Colorado by way of Indonesia.”
Wow! It was both out west and exotic. This was definitely a man worthy of her wish list. Nerves ran through her as she debated pulling out her cell phone and showing him the list in her notes app or maintaining the cool façade of a woman who did the casual fling thing regularly. But if she didn't show him the list, she'd have to tell him what she wanted and she wasn't so sure she could do that. Okay, what was the worst thing that could happen? He'd laugh at her. Best thing? He'd perform every single thing on that list and make her dream come true.
Show him!
No, it's too soon.
He already did number six.
But he didn't know he did it!
She jammed her hands in her hair and pulled. It was one thing to tell your best girl friends about your pathetic love life, a whole different thing to tell a bad boy you just met that because of your pathetic love life, you now had some pretty intense and specific needs.
He took a sip of coffee completely calm in the face of her turmoil.
This had all been much easier last night with two glasses of wine in her. “Thank you for breakfast,” she blurted, falling back on good manners in the face of potential awkwardness.
“Yup.” He took another sip of coffee and watched her over the rim.
She stood abruptly, cleared her dishes, and set them in the sink. She ran the water so the syrup wouldn't stick and be difficult to clean later. Then she turned and let out a yelp because he was right there. Directly behind her, holding his own dishes.
“Calm down,” he said, setting his dishes in the sink. “What're you so jumpy about?”
“Nothing,” she squeaked. She took one step around him when he snagged her by the waist.
“Hold on now,” he said, turning her to face him. He held her by the hips and pulled her close enough to feel his heat. She was suddenly keenly aware he was only wearing a V-neck undershirt and boxers, which meant it would be so easy to get her hands on his hard body. Her fingers itched with the urge to touch and she was through denying herself. She slid her fingers under the front of his shirt over the ridges of his abs to his warm chest. He smelled like bacon and she suddenly desperately wanted to lick him all over.
“Carrie?”
His deep voice vibrated under her hands and she wanted to rub her cheek over his chest, then press her ear to it and soak that sexy badass voice in.
He tilted her chin up. “Not that I'm not loving your hands all over me, but I'm trying to figure out why you seem so…unsettled.”
She told herself to stop touching him, but her hands wouldn't listen. They slid up over his wide shoulders and then back down his chest over his sexy abs to the waistband of his boxers.
His hands stopped hers, holding them at the edge of his boxers. “We good here?”
This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for in the entire year it had taken her to get up the nerve to approach a bad boy. She'd be a fool to pass this opportunity up. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Yeah.”
“You have to swear not to laugh. Not until I leave.”
He gazed at her steadily and squeezed her hands. “I won't laugh.”
She couldn't maintain eye contact. She stared at his exposed chest at the V of his shirt, tanned skin a few shades darker than hers with some dark hair. He released her hands only to snag her hips, taking her with him where he shifted to lean against the counter. He wrapped his arms around her waist, looking completely relaxed. She was the furthest thing from relaxed, pressed against that hard male body. She placed her hands on his warm chest and risked a look up at him. He watched her with his sexy hooded eyes and those sensual lips seemed to be calling to her to stroke and taste and suck. If only she could get over this awkward nervousness and boldly proclaim her secret desires.
She opened her mouth and shut it again.
He remained quiet. Geez, make it harder for her.
She met his eyes. “Ask me anything you want.” She needed an opening. A question that would somehow lead to her explaining and explaining until she finally spit it out.
“Tell me why the woman that came for me multiple times last night and wasn't quiet about it either—” he paused, a sexy smirk crossing his features “—is jumpy as hell now.”
She flushed and muttered to herself, “Such a bad boy thing to say.”
His lips twitched. “What can a bad boy do for you, Carrie?”
“Okay, I have a list. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She got braver. “Seven things to make up f
or six years of repression. Seven years if you count the year it took me to finally get a taste of the forbidden.”
He cocked his head. “Which part of last night was forbidden?”
She patted his chest and then rubbed it. “Good girl-bad boy.” It was in all her favorite romance novels. Not as forbidden as say teacher-student, but still far out of her comfort zone. It was all part of the new Carrie empowerment plan. New sexy dress, new contacts, new unapologetically sexy attitude. Bring it on, bad boy!
He released her. “Let's see your list.”
She turned and stared at her purse under the kitchen table, willed herself to go over there and get her cell, but she couldn't seem to move.
“Carrie.” His big hand cupped her jaw and turned her back to him. “Nothing on that list will shock me.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb before releasing his hold on her. She relaxed a little. He'd probably seen it all, done it all. This wouldn't be a big deal to him. She searched his features, checking in with him one last time to be sure he was taking her seriously and not about to laugh in her face.
His voice dropped, gruff and low. “Give me the list now.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. His eyes were direct and hot on hers. He said nothing more yet she knew he fully intended to take her list seriously.
With shaking legs, she crossed to where she'd left her purse, pulled out her cell, tapped in the code, and pulled up the list in her notes app. She glanced at the naughty list she had memorized, felt a belated blush over sharing it, but before she could change her mind, he snatched the phone from her hands.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
He didn't respond. Instead his brows drew down as he read for what felt like forever. Finally he lifted his head. “What the fu—”
“Forget it!” She yanked the phone from his hands and stuffed it in her purse. “I wasn't here.” She bolted out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out the front door.
“Carrie, wait!”
She glanced over her shoulder. Omigod, he was chasing her! In his boxers! He was nuts! She'd slept with a lunatic!
Formal Arrangement Page 22