The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

His eyebrows rose. ‘Ah, the American heiress everyone is talking about is hiding out in my block.’

  I grinned. ‘You won’t tell anyone will you?’

  He smiled rakishly. ‘Not if you promise to share a slice of your cake.’

  ‘Deal.’

  He pushed open his door. ‘Come in. There should be a kitchen scales around somewhere.’

  I followed him into his apartment. To my surprise it was decorated in a very similar manner to Ivan’s apartment. ‘Who decorated your apartment?’

  ‘My mother. Why do you ask?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have decorated Ivan’s apartment too, would she?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said dryly. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘They are both startlingly similar in style and taste.’

  He turned around and looked at me as if did not believe me.

  ‘I promise you they are. You must come and see it,’ I insisted

  He nodded and, going into the kitchen, came out with the scales. ‘So you are baking on Valentine’s Day.’

  I nodded. ‘And why are you not out on a date? You seem … most eligible.’

  He grinned. ‘I like eating cake on Valentine’s with astonishing blondes.’

  I took the scales off him and smiled. I liked him. He was good in the most unthreatening way possible for my battered ego. ‘I’ll bring you some later.’

  ‘Well then, I suppose I’d better help you carry this into your kitchen.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive. This weighs an absolute ton.’

  I looked at the little plastic thing cradled in his hands. ‘Listen,’ I said, and smiled to take the sting out of my words. ‘I’m still in mourning for my husband so I hope I’m not giving you the idea that I’m available or anything like that.’

  ‘Perish the thought. You’re absolutely ravishing. Of course, you’re not available.’

  I laughed and he followed behind. I opened the door to Ivan’s apartment and he carried the scales in and set them down on the island. He looked around him.

  ‘You’re right. The color scheme is remarkably similar.’

  ‘Thank you for the scales.’

  ‘Right. I guess I’d better be off. Bring the cake around anytime it is ready. I’ll open a bottle of champagne and we’ll have cake and bubbly to celebrate our … um … friendship.’

  ‘All right, see you about ten o’clock,’ I said happily.

  This day was turning out way better than I had thought it would. After he left I popped around to the corner shop for the butter. Then I set about baking my cake. It was nearly ready when I heard the key in the door. I felt my body tense up. I was not expecting Ivan to come back for ages and he had not warned me that anyone else had the key.

  ‘Who is it?’ I called out.

  Ivan appeared at the door. ‘Me,’ he said.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  He sniffed the air. ‘What’s that smell?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m baking a cake.’

  He seemed surprised. ‘You bake?’

  I smiled. ‘Yup. I love baking. I usually bake in the middle of the night when there is no one around. It calms and relaxes me.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘What are you doing home so early?’

  He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. ‘If I tell you, you’ll never believe me.’

  I leaned a hip at the counter top. ‘Try me.’

  He plucked two tall flutes from one of the top shelves and placed them on the island top. Deftly he untwisted the metal from around the top of the champagne bottle and removed it together with the foil. The cork came out with a quiet hiss and he filled the two glasses. Picking them up he came towards me. He handed me a glass and I took it.

  His gaze met mine. ‘I thought you shouldn’t spend Valentine’s night on your own.’

  My eyes widened with surprise.

  ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Tawny.’ His voice was strange, thick.

  We clinked glasses. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Ivan,’ I echoed.

  I watched him over the rim of my glass.

  ‘Does it taste like the greatest champagne ever made?’ he asked.

  ‘Why? Who says it is?’

  ‘The head of Sotheby’s Wine Department.’

  I let my gaze float down to the faded label on the bottle. Krug Collection 1928. ‘Wow!’ I exclaimed. ‘It’s older than both of us put together.’

  ‘It was served for King George VI and his guests at the first royal banquet in Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘Hmm … I’d have saved it for a more special occasion,’ I murmured.

  ‘It is a special occasion.’

  ‘It is?’

  His fingers flexed restlessly. ‘It is.’

  I cocked an eyebrow. ‘So what’s the occasion?’

  He shrugged. ‘Something at work.’

  ‘Oh. Great.’

  His eyes were hooded and watchful. He raised his glass as if in a toast. ‘Do you like it?’

  I took a sip and considered the taste. ‘It’s … racy?’

  He nodded and drained his glass. Then he began walking away from me and poured himself another glass. There was something different about him. A coiled tension. If I didn’t know better, I would have said it was sexual in nature.

  ‘What happened to your date?’ I asked as he turned to face me again.

  He looked at me expressionlessly. ‘What do you think happened to her?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘God, I really hate Valentine’s Day. First you have to send out for overpriced flowers, and then you have to take them out to restaurants where you are cajoled into the set menu that you would never choose ordinarily, and then the couple sitting at the table next to you starts arguing.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said, trying not to smile.

  ‘And this year I was one half of that arguing couple.’

  ‘Oh dear! I’m sorry to hear that.’

  A ping went off and I walked over to the oven and looked in through the glass doors. The cake looked fabulous. I switched off the oven and, donning thick mitts, opened the door and brought my cake out. Ivan came over and stood beside me looking at it. I heard his breathing deep and quick and felt his powerful body almost vibrating with tension. My pulse started leaping.

  ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you managed to find all the ingredients in my kitchen.’

  I moved slightly away and forced myself to smile. ‘Almost. I went down to the corner shop for the butter, and Ralph lent me the weighing scales.’

  His body became peculiarly still. ‘Ralph?’ he queried softly. There was menace in his voice.

  ‘Yeah. He had a real posh, double-barrel last name, but he lives at the end of the corridor.’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve been living here for years and I’ve never seen my neighbor.’

  ‘You should meet him. He’s really nice.’

  He lifted his glass and took a sip, but there was a new tension about him.

  ‘In exchange I promised him some cake.’

  ‘How civil,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘And when did you plan to take the cake over?’

  I flushed bright red. I couldn’t explain. No matter what I said, champagne and cake would look bad.

  ‘Oh my. Have I interrupted a late night cake eating date?’

  ‘It was not like that. I was just being friendly.’

  ‘Friendly?’ he snapped.

  ‘I was being neighborly. He was good enough to bring the scales over,’ I explained.

  ‘He came here,’ he growled, suddenly aggressive.

  ‘Well, yes. He helped me to carry it over.’

  His eyes moved to the scales. ‘What? That heavy thing there?’

  I felt my face grow hot again. ‘Don’t you judge everybody by your standards, Mister,’ I hit back angrily.

  ‘What’s wrong with this story, Taw
ny?’

  ‘All right,’ I conceded. ‘He did try to hit on me, but I set him straight. I told him I was still mourning Robert, but we could be friends and he was totally fine with it.’

  He laughed, a brutal, cutting sound. ‘I can’t decide if you’re dangerously naïve or a total idiot.’

  ‘Just because I’m a country girl, doesn’t mean I’m illiterate or stupid,’ I said with as much dignity as I could muster. I felt crushed by his assumption that I was stupid and naïve, and disappointed that again we were at loggerheads over something totally innocent. I would have turned away and stalked out of the room if he had not caught my arm and spun me around. My heart jumped.

  He pulled me towards him. ‘Let me tell you something about men, country Princess. We don’t befriend attractive women. Never.’

  ‘Just let go of my arm, please. I want to go to bed,’ I said through gritted teeth. I had been looking forward to having champagne and cake with Ralph. He was the first man who offered me the hand of friendship ever since I came to England, and now Ivan had completely spoilt it.

  ‘I’ll be damned if I left my date because I didn’t want you to spend Valentine’s night on your own, and you go off to bed in a huff because you don’t like the sound of the truth.’

  I looked up at him, the warmth from his hand seeping into mine, and something in my stomach suddenly fluttered. Jesus, his eyes really were insanely beautiful. Like liquid silver. They poured over my face hungrily. Something dangerous whispered in my blood.

  He’s your stepson, Tawny.

  The air was suddenly deadly silent. I could hear myself think.

  Hell to the no. He’s your freaking stepson.

  I blinked. ‘Do you want to have some cake?’ I asked jerkily.

  ‘Cake? Yeah, I want cake,’ he whispered hoarsely.

  I stared up at his lips as they moved in their sensuous dance of making words. Something bloomed between us. I wanted more. Much more. Unconsciously, I licked my lips and, from the way his eyes flared, it was clear that it was actually an invitation, pure and basic. A female calling to her male.

  He brought a hand to my hair and fisted it. Pulling me back, he covered my neck with his hand. His skin practically burned me. There was something dark and desperate about the gesture. My pulse raced wildly under his fingertips.

  ‘Oh, fuck it,’ he swore suddenly and before I knew it, his muscles flexed, my body slammed into his, and his mouth crashed onto mine.

  Oh, badass!

  His tongue pushed into my mouth and the sudden explosion of lust between us was unbelievable. Never in my wildest dreams. Fireworks went off in my core. The passion was like wildfire that threatened to consume me.

  ‘I’m sorry I questioned your intelligence, but you’re fucking driving me crazy here,’ he growled, and swept his mouth along my jaw while his hand trailed down my neck and captured my breast. He rubbed his palm over the sensitized tips. Heaven.

  ‘Don’t you want this, Tawny?’ His voice rang too raw, too hungry. This couldn’t be the same man I knew. His eyes burned into me. No sarcasm or distaste there at all.

  God help me. ‘Yes,’ I gasped. My entire body felt like a twisting, wanting mess.

  He pulled back and looked into my face. His eyes were heavy lidded, the pupils dilated to huge black pools.

  He was unbuttoning my top when the doorbell rang. Both of us froze. For a moment he looked down at me, and there was an expression of disbelief in his face. Then he left me and strode to the door and yanked it open.

  From where I stood I could see Ralph standing with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and two flute glasses. My stomach churned.

  ‘Sorry, have I come at a bad time?’ Ralph said.

  ‘Get lost,’ Ivan replied, his voice remote and cold.

  I shivered.

  ‘Right. Got it,’ Ralph said.

  I pinched my eyes shut. Oh damn.

  Ivan closed the door and came within a few feet of me. A furious stranger with desolate eyes glared at me. His lips curled in a sneer. ‘Any dick would do. Huh?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I whispered, cringing at the horrible bitterness in his tone.

  ‘Go to bed, Tawny.’

  ‘Wait,’ I called, but he was already across the dining room and in the corridor. I heard his bedroom close with a slam that made me jump. If he had slapped me I could not have felt worse. He had treated me like a whore.

  I swallowed the stone in my throat. The tears that welled into my eyes were hot and bitter, like poison.

  ‘Oh dear God.’ What have I gotten myself into?

  Lord Greystoke

  Fuck her.

  Fuck this bullshit.

  What a horny fucking slut!

  I was so furious I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Damn her to hell. I couldn’t believe that I fell for her shit. My hands clenched into tight fists. I could feel my fury burning like molten lava in my guts, but my cock was so hard it was like a piece of fucking wood stuffed into my trousers.

  I strode over to the bed and sat down. I undid the button on my trousers and ripped the zip down. Little cheating bitch. I slid my trousers down to my knees and my cock was thrusting out of my underpants. Grabbing the material, I yanked them down roughly, closed my eyes and, loosely fisting the base of my shaft, started moving the throbbing mass of muscles in slow, pleasurable strokes.

  The door suddenly opens and she is standing there, her hair flowing down her shoulders and back like a golden river, and her eyes huge and unfuckingbelievably gorgeous. She looks like a goddess.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ I snarl.

  She smiles sulkily, pulls her skirt up to her waist and shows me her naked pussy. ‘Look at what you have done to me,’ she complains in a wheedling voice. ‘I am dripping. Dripping all over the floor. I want you to put your cock in it.’

  ‘Come here now and let me see,’ I say sternly.

  She comes forward, her skirt hitched up to expose her pussy, and stands right in front of my face.

  ‘Look at how ready I am,’ she mewls.

  I see that she is absolutely right. I don’t think I have ever seen a woman so fucking wet. It is dripping down her thighs.

  ‘Don’t you want to put your dick into my hot, tight pussy?’ she asks eagerly.

  ‘Talk dirty to me first,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, pound your little slut pussy. Make your whore cum,’ she says rubbing her slippery clit.

  ‘What a nasty girl you are.’

  ‘I’m not a girl. I’m your stepmother. Fucking me is forbidden.’ She licks her lips lasciviously. ‘It’s taboo.’ She shakes her head from side to side. ‘Not allowed. Bad. Filthy.’

  ‘You need to have your mouth washed out with my cum.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I want to feel your cock in my mouth right now,’ she gasps desperately and gets immediately to her knees. My entire cock disappears into her mouth before I know it. Her cheeks suck inwards. What a fucking whore. Her mouth is warm and wet, but it is not enough. I need something better. I need to punish her.

  ‘Actually, I think I’ll fuck you in the ass,’ I say, and pull out from the depths of her throat.

  She looks at my dick, glistening with her saliva and her eyes become enormous.

  ‘Oh, you’re so big. It’ll hurt me so much, but I still want it,’ she says and gets on her hands and knees. She twists her neck to look at me.

  ‘Fuck my ass. Stretch it good,’ she begs.

  I don’t use any lubricant. I just plunge straight into the lying, two-timing bitch’s ass. She screams …

  … and I shot my load. It jetted out of me in streams of white like I hadn’t come for ages. I fell back on the bed, alone, my right hand still curled around my dick. Fuck. I needed a whole new strategy to deal with her.

  A completely different strategy.

  Chapter 15

  Tawny Maxwell

  I slept badly, my night filled with weird dreams. In one, I had sex with Ivan and when I woke up my wh
ole body was tingling. In another, I was in Barrington Manor with Robert. Not only was he still alive, he looked as he had before he became really ill. We were sitting in the rose arbor at the edge of the vegetable garden and I was trying to tell him something, but he said, ‘I can’t hear you, my darling. You’ll have to stop that dog from barking first.’

  I looked in the direction he was looking and there was Chloe on all fours. She was naked but for a dog collar, and barking her head off. She had a long pink tail, which stood up and away from her body, and she was waving it really hard. Weird.

  Consequently, I could not wake up in time to go for my run, and I was in the kitchen cutting a slice of cake while waiting for the coffee machine to heat up when Ivan walked in.

  Last night was etched in my mind, but it was almost as if what happened between us, the hunger, the crazy kiss, was just one of my weird dreams. The passionate man from last night was firmly locked away in a deep dungeon. There was only the suave businessman Robert introduced me to that very first night. Cold-eyed and totally unreachable, he stood in the middle of the kitchen and addressed me.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Morning,’ I said, and lifted my hand in an awkward wave.

  ‘Do please sit down,’ he said, waving his hand towards the island stools.

  ‘Formal,’ I commented, and popped myself on the stool furthest from him.

  ‘Well, yes. I’ve decided what I want to do with you.’

  ‘Very dramatic,’ I said lightly, but already I didn’t like the sound of his voice.

  He cleared his throat. ‘The simple fact is; the terms of Robert’s will mean should your stepchildren manage to arrange for your demise, or your incapacitation, his fortune is basically up for grabs. However, if you are married, your husband will inherit everything, and if you have children of your own that puts even more layers between them and your inheritance. At that point it would be pointless to eliminate you.’

  He looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  ‘The marriage would only be a temporary arrangement. At twenty-one you will be able to set up trusts of your own and put in stipulations so your stepchildren are completely eliminated from being in positions of rightful heirs.’

  I tilted my head to one side and considered him with narrowed eyes. What he just said sounded like three gallons of crazy in a two-gallon bucket.