The Bad Boys

by Sosie Frost

  “I do care—”

  “You absolutely do not. I’m doing all this planning by myself, and now you want me to change the colors.” Lindsey pointed at Mandy. “And you. You love this, don’t you?”

  Mandy guzzled her ginger ale, but she spat half of it back into her glass. “What did I do?”

  “You always hated the ivory!”

  “That’s not true. I thought the cream might make more of a contrast—”

  “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

  Sandra soothed her daughter. “There, there. Mandy knows she has to try harder. We’ll sort it out.”

  “I don’t want to have a purple wedding and look like a grape!”

  Bryce cleared his throat. “Indigo isn’t really purple—”

  I elbowed him. He got the hint, taking Lindsey into his arms before she called off the damn party.

  “We’ll fix it,” he said.

  “There’s no time!” Her nails turned into claws, nearly shredding the groom. “We won’t have time, and we’ll never get the invitations out, and no one will come to the wedding, and we’ll be all alone, and I haven’t even finished doing my registry yet!”

  Mandy’s eye twitched with every word. Poor thing needed a little more help.

  I smirked. She didn’t trust it. I didn’t blame her, but I wasn’t letting my two friends stay miserable. Someone had to prevent Lindsey from stroking out—or worse, forcing her mother to disown Mandy.

  “Tell you what, Linds,” I said. “I’ll get the other groomsmen here to try on their tuxes while Mandy re-does your ivory invitations in Photoshop.”

  “While I do what?” Mandy squeaked.

  Wasn’t sure what I liked more—the warmth of her touch or the burn of her stare.

  “Sure,” I said. “We’ll double-check the design, run them down to a Kinkos, and we’ll order a pizza for everyone. We’ll get the groomsmen to help stuff the envelopes tonight, address them ourselves, and send them out tomorrow.”

  Lindsey peeked over Bryce’s shoulder. “You mean it?”

  I winked at Mandy, prepared to duck away from any wayward can of soda she decided to pitch at my head.

  “Okay.” Mandy surrendered. “I can simplify the design a bit and we can add the tissue paper and rsvp cards ourselves.”

  “And…and the bows on top?” Lindsey asked.

  “We’ll hot glue them on, but that means a stop at the craft store, and it might take a lot longer—”

  “Fantastic!” Lindsey fanned the tears from her eyes. “Oh, you guys…what would I do without you?”

  She grabbed her sister and squeezed her tight. Mandy softened. Unfortunately, Lindsey’s voice hardened, and the hug shifted into a thinly veiled headlock.

  “But I want two pieces of tissue paper, in ivory. And I want card stock, not regular paper. And I need gold envelopes. If I don’t get gold envelopes, I’m going to—”

  “We’ll get them.” Mandy glanced at me, probably to gauge the distance between her hands and my throat. “Promise.”

  “Good.” Sandra hugged Lindsey. “See, this family always pulls together.”

  Lindsey smiled. So did Mandy.

  Sandra frowned at her daughter.

  “You ought to be thankful, Amanda.” She pulled Lindsey from the kitchen under the pretense of checking on the guest list. “I never had a family to bail me out of my mistakes.”

  Mandy had the patience of a saint.

  She also had the lips of an angel, the hips of a dancer, and the ass of a goddess.

  I pissed her off, but Mandy couldn’t hold a grudge for long. She grumbled and opened her laptop at the table to work on the invitations.

  Once Bryce freed himself from Lindsey’s clutches and returned to a shade of his former personality. I followed him upstairs. He shoved a tux in my arms and pointed to the guest room.

  “You can try it on, but don’t get any crumbs on it,” he said.

  This coming from the man who once passed out in a gallon of spilled milk and two boxes of Lucky Charms. When we were kids, Bryce was always the first in the mud, gunk, stink, or whatever trouble we found.

  Was he planning to wear a wedding ring or handcuffs once this was over?

  “I’m not eating anything,” I said. “Safe from crumbs.”

  Bryce wasn’t smiling. “Doesn’t matter, man. No crumbs. No ink. No wrinkles. No nothing. Got it? Lindsey will have my balls if something happens to the tux.”

  “Think she already has ‘em.”

  “Name of the game. Just gotta power through until the wedding. That’s when the shopping and planning and the decorations and the stress stops.”

  I laughed. “No…that’s when it all begins.”

  He shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you’ve been with a girl long enough to put her number in your cell.”

  “But I don’t have to worry about crumbs, do I?”

  Bryce left me to get dressed. “I guess. But it’s worth it. That’s what Lindsey says.”

  Right.

  I suited up in the formal garb, tossing on the pants and shoes. Those fit, but I didn’t think the shirt was supposed to be mine.

  The shirt stretched, but I’d rip the material over my biceps and pop the buttons over my pecs if they expected me to wear it. While it’d make for a good show, Lindsey already warned me to keep my ink hidden. Apparently, both the Prescotts and my family thought the tattoos meant trouble. I was twenty-eight years old, and nothing changed from when I was a kid. The entire neighborhood had always worried for their daughters when I came around.

  Well, only one girl had to worry.

  And she was long past saving from my intentions.

  So why the hell couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I still tasted her on my lips, felt her clinging to my shoulders, and shuddered with the memory of her pussy milking my cock.

  Maybe it was because I knew her? We grew up together, though back then she was just the annoying kid her sister used to babysit. Lindsey, Bryce, and I had five years on her, so it was a surprise to see her become a beautiful and sexy woman with dangerous curves and a sweet smile.

  The bedroom door kicked open. I held my hands up.

  “I don’t have any fucking crumbs, Bryce!”

  Mandy slammed the door behind her.

  Oh, this wasn’t a friendly visit, and it certainly wouldn’t end with me pushed back onto the bed with her grinding against my lap.

  A man could hope, but he also had to protect his boys in case the girl of his dreams happened to kick.

  I grinned at her, half-naked. My arms crossed over my bare chest, flexing everything hard and inked for her inspection. My pants felt too tight, even with the button undone and the zipper down.

  She took one look and stilled, eyes wide.

  Perfect.

  I winked. “If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  Mandy reached for the only weapon she could find—my tie. I laughed as she whipped it at me, flapping my chest with the black silk.

  It wasn’t her most impressive showing, especially since I remembered her at five years old, making a summer snowball out of white legos. She’d pelted me, pitching it over the fence separating our yards. Still had the scar on my eyebrow.

  I grabbed the tie in mid-air and tugged. She fell forward, and I wrapped the silk behind her back. Mandy gritted her teeth as I pulled her into my chest, but she couldn’t hide her quick little breath. Her hands danced over my chest, trying to settle on skin that wasn’t marked by a tribal tattoo.

  Why wouldn’t she admit to wanting me too? It had been weeks since we spent the night together, and our game of hot and cold frustrated me.

  “You did it on purpose!” Mandy hissed and untangled herself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Making the invitations? Sending them tomorrow?”

  “Thought it’d be fun.”

  “Nate, by the time Lindsey fire-breathes her demands for t
hese invitations, we won’t be able to find a UPS store or Kinkos in one hundred miles that will let us through the door. And, if we’re lucky enough to print them, we’ll be up all night trying to finish.”

  I wrapped the tie around my neck and shrugged. “If I remember correctly, we had an all-nighter last time we were together. You didn’t complain then.”

  “Is everything about sex to you?”

  Was that a trick question? “Baby, you gotta know that was the greatest sex either of us has ever had.”

  “It was a mistake.” Her voice hardened. “We never should have done it.”

  “We never should have stopped.”

  Every emotion looked good on her—anger, indignation, even shame, though I had no idea why she’d feel ashamed, or how desperately she’d try to hide it.

  Christ, this woman was the best lay I ever had, and now she gave me balls bluer than the damn wedding invitations.

  Those pouty lips clamped over words she refused to speak, and her honey-amber eyes averted to avoid my gaze. No matter how much of an edge she added to her voice or how stiffly she squared her shoulders, Mandy’s bluff was weak.

  So why did she fight me?

  “You’re still chasing me,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because I love to see those hips wiggle when you run.”

  “You already had me, Nate.”

  “I took you for one night. I never had you.”

  “Well, one night was our agreement, remember?” Her voice weakened, losing some of the fire that nearly scorched the pants off me. “You promised me one night, no strings.”

  I stepped closer, watching as her lip trembled over a lost breath. “You think I could forget that night?”

  “You forgot the rules.”

  “No. I broke the rules.”

  “Why?”

  “Because one night with you will never be enough.”

  Her eyes focused on my chest, my neck, the muscles of my shoulders. Her gaze traced everywhere she’d kissed that night. Her lips had trailed over my every muscle, and her tongue flicked along the tattoos over my pecs. She’d done wilder things as her lips pressed lower. She was inexperienced, but raw enthusiasm and natural talent was better than any practiced mouth.

  Even if I never took her again, I refused to let her regret the night we had.

  “It’s been a month,” I said. “That’s too fucking long.”

  Mandy shook her head. Waves of dark hair fell in front of her face. I brushed her cheek to chase the ebony locks away. She stopped me before my hand caressed the soft angle of her jaw.

  The best decisions were made from my gut.

  The fun choices came from the twitch of my cock.

  I pulled her into my embrace. Her eyes locked on mine. She meant to chastise me, but even she couldn’t hide what simmered in her stare. It stirred everything inside me, and that desire was dangerous.

  I shouldn’t have wanted her so badly.

  I had no idea why I did.

  “I’m not sleeping with you again,” she whispered.

  “Why not?”

  Her words trembled. “The first time caused enough trouble.”

  “The second time can cause even more.”

  “Not sure that’s physically possible.”

  She squirmed. I let her go, but she lingered. Too close. Her hand trailed over my skin, and every touch shot bolts of pure adrenaline through my body, tearing through what wasn’t ravaged with a surge of desire.

  I had a bed. I had a beautiful woman.

  And she threaded her fingers into the tie around my neck. My breathing stilled. I’d take a leash or a whipping from this woman, and it didn’t matter as long as it was her delivering that pain or pleasure.

  She gave me neither.

  She wove the tie into a perfect knot, tightening it until it fit around my bare neck. I hardened, ready and willing to follow this woman wherever she led.

  I hoped it was to the bed.

  “I have to make it through this wedding,” she said. “There’s a lot of pressure on me to help. My parents can’t stand each other, and Lindsey is going insane—”

  “I know a good way to cope with the stress.”

  “You’re making it worse.”

  I leaned in as her fingers curled around the tie. Our foreheads touched, and I breathed in the sweet vanilla scent of her.

  Fuck, did she always smell this good? Look this good? Feel this soft?

  Something about her was more tempting than before. It wasn’t a need for her. I actually hurt. My thoughts bled into a headache, my fingers cramped against the urge to throw her on the bed, and my cock would split if she didn’t drop to her knees and kiss away the strain.

  A man could dream.

  Mandy’s voice steadied. “We can’t do it again.”

  “You know this hard-to-get game just makes me hard.”

  “Let’s talk after the wedding, okay?” She bit her lip. I ducked down to taste it. Denied. “We’ll see if you still want me.”

  “I can’t last two months before fucking you again.”

  “I think after two months you’ll want out. I’m pretty sure you will.”

  “Baby, I’m like a man stranded in the desert…” My lips grazed her cheek. She couldn’t hide the shiver. “I’m dying for something wet.”

  She tightened the knot and jammed it into my neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I’d love something sweet too.” I grinned, even as she tried to choke me. “Creamy.”

  “We’re done here.” Mandy pulled away before I could capture her lips in a kiss. Next time I wouldn’t be so slow. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Nate.”

  “Baby, we wouldn’t get any sleep.”

  “I’m serious. I need space. I can’t handle the wedding preparation and work and my family and…you at the same time.”

  I loosened the tie, imagining how beautiful she’d look with it binding her hands over her head. But then she couldn’t touch me, couldn’t wrap around me.

  Other girls might have made it interesting, but I wanted to be held, caressed, and fucked by Mandy as much as I planned to do the same to her.

  I stared at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her back into a smile. “Something about you is irresistible to me now.”

  “That’s because you can’t have me.”

  “That’s not it. I already had you. I should be satisfied.”

  Mandy’s mouth popped open. “I didn’t satisfy you?”

  I laughed. “You did more than that. I’ve never had a fuck like you. I don’t think I will again until I lay you down and get those panties off. So fair warning, baby. Once isn’t enough. It will never be enough. You’re a sweet addiction, but there’s no vice in wanting you. The only sin would be denying what we need.”

  She shook her head. “You have no idea the trouble it will cause.”

  “The only thing I love more than trouble is a good fuck.” And the only thing better than a good fuck was doing it again. I loosened the tie and tossed it onto the bed. She was lucky I didn’t lay her down next to it. “I’m not going to stop until I take you again.”

  “And then what?”

  I should have shown her. She baited me, like she didn’t believe how badly I ached to fill her.

  The only way she’d understand was if I took her again, but I wasn’t a man to beg. Next time, she’d come to me, and I’d reward her for every second of her bravery.

  “And then I’ll fuck you until you realize you never should have run.”

  3

  Mandy

  Coconut cake.

  Why did it have to be coconut cake?

  Even the chocolate wasn’t sitting right. Or the marble. Or the carrot.

  Or the water. The air. The car ride to the cake tasting.

  Morning sickness came at all times of the day, and it didn’t mix well with the apprehension of holding the cake tasting at Nate’s pub, Arrogance. Of course he graciously volunteered his bar for a private event, o
pening the doors before his regular hours.

  He did it to see me. He wasn’t giving up.

  And I might have been flattered if it weren’t for the secret hanging over my head.

  Mom wasn’t happy about being seen in a bar before nightfall, but the ivory balloons and flowers Nate used to decorate was a stroke of genius. She overlooked the dark woods, leather seats, and huge selection of specialty brews on tap because he pampered Lindsey.

  For that, I supposed I could be nice too. Except I had no idea what to do while he leaned against his bar. The green-eyed miscreant offered me a seat at the counter, close to him. He wanted to sample the sweets together.

  That only made the nausea worse.

  My life wasn’t flashing before my eyes anymore; it was hurling into the toilet as discreetly as I could hide it without my family assuming I was pregnant. Of course, when Mom heard me at home, she patted my cheek with an encouraging good job.

  At least I could please my mother with a fictitious eating disorder. God forbid we had a size-ten bridesmaid.

  Curves were for roads, not strapless dresses.

  But coconut didn’t have a place in my life before I got pregnant. Now it exacted some sort of tropical revenge for every disparaging remark I ever made about the nut.

  Fruit?

  Hellspawn.

  The flakes crusting the top of the cake squeaked over my teeth. I took one bite, shuddered as the stringy flecks lodged in my throat, and tried to choke it down.

  My stomach flipped.

  This wasn’t good.

  “What do we all think?” Mom clapped her hands. “Write it down. Come on, quickly now. We have two dozen more cake samples to go.”

  Now my stomach flopped.

  Twenty more pieces of cake? I couldn’t even watch Food Network this morning. Who the hell inflicted this type of torture on their family or local bakery?

  Lindsey slapped my arm. “You aren’t writing anything down! I need your input! This is the most important decision for the reception!”

  She’d said the same for the music, the venue, the dress…

  I blinked, staring at the grid paper in front of me. The cake samples were labeled numerically, and a dozen columns stretched across the page. Each box held a specific set of criteria for judgment—decorations, flavor, color, texture, consistency, sweetness, frosting thickness, exclusivity, trendiness, melt-ability, memorability, champagne compliments, and how likely the flavor profile would match Lindsey’s chosen wedding theme, Fairytales in Heaven.