Rescuing the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  Now he was thinking about covering her in chocolate. Melted chocolate. Licking it off her body, suckling it off her nipples.

  “I like my marshmallows golden brown… Oh God… Roast them nice and slow… uhhh, oh yes, yes… so that they melt on my tongue.”

  Yeah, this wasn’t working. He stopped moving and her eyes snapped open, meeting his.

  “Scampi, baby, how about you shut up and come instead?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Okay.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, her half-off/half-on pants brushing the back of his calf, her naked inner thigh damp against his. He reached under her ass, angled her body, and drove into her deeper. A sharp, loud cry came from Sofie’s mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders once again.

  There. She was about to blow and he was grateful, because it wouldn’t be long before he followed. He just had to get her over, and he knew how to do that. Maneuvering his thumb between their bodies, he pressed gently against her clit, swirling the tiny nub until her breaths grew closer and closer together.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged, watching her eyes sink closed.

  He dropped his head and pulled her nipple deep into his mouth, running his tongue over and around it, increasing the suction until she pulled his hair and swore into his ear. With that four-letter word reverberating through the room, she came. Her inner walls clamped down over and over again, drawing his own orgasm before he could say the word s’mores.

  Letting loose her nipple, he dropped his forehead against her collarbone, his entire body shaking, his lungs squeezing, still coming, for God’s sake. It was the longest, most draining, orgasm he could remember. The best fucking thing to happen to him in a long time.

  He didn’t know how long he stayed that way, bent over her, blissed-out. When her hands gently stroked the back of his hair, his shoulders, down his back and across his ribs, he came to like a man who’d lost consciousness.

  “Baby,” she whispered.

  He didn’t argue the sentiment. Simply enjoyed being held.

  Her entire body was buzzing. And what was that last move with this thumb? He filled her, his length and thickness a heady mix. She’d either forgotten how big he was, or had blocked it out after the underwhelming lovers who followed.

  Sofie hadn’t slept with a lot of men since Donny, but dates had turned into temporary boyfriends. Frankly, she saw no reason to stay celibate after she lost the one thing you stay celibate for. Once the “big V” was gone, what was left to hold on to?

  So yes, there had been a few men. She was far from slutty, but she was also a modern woman, with modern needs. Only now that she’d had Donovan again, she realized those needs hadn’t been met until, possibly, right now. In retrospect, he really overshot her expectations for a first time.

  Christopher. Christopher would’ve been a better choice for a maiden voyage. He didn’t have much length or girth, and he wasn’t overly strong or confident. His body didn’t bow powerfully, making each thrust a physical blow in the sweetest, most delicious way imaginable…

  Unlike the man still inside her, breathing against her skin while he recovered. Donovan had an amazingly beautiful body, gorgeous eyes, and enough knowledge and experience to do whatever that last extra credit bit was, the move that had made her orgasm so hard she still saw stars.

  She couldn’t stop her next thought from coming, like she hadn’t been able to stop herself from coming, she thought wryly. That thought trickled from her lips now.

  “What did we do?”

  “Dunno.” His voice was muffled against her chest, the side of his face resting on her breast. “But if you give me fifteen minutes, we’ll do it again.”

  Again. That’d be… gosh. Awesome. Her heart slammed against her rib cage. It wasn’t something she should want. They should be cutting their losses. Getting dressed. Discussing what happened.

  Painful words from their shared past whispered in her mind. She ignored them. Numbly, she heard herself ask, “Fifteen minutes?”

  He lifted his head, his silver-blue eyes making her feel, making her want, making her forget the past and cling to the present instead. His lips landed on hers, his longish hair tickling her cheeks.

  “Ten, Scampi. Ten, tops.”

  He blew out a breath that tickled her stomach. She fed her fingers into his hair.

  “Ten,” she agreed.

  Gone. She was gone for him already.

  That was fast.

  Sofie couldn’t read the look on Faith’s face at all. One of her eyes was scrunched closed, the open one dark blue and filled with judgment. Or admiration.

  Or… jealousy?

  Sofie lifted her arms and dropped them to her sides. “Okay I give up. Let me have it. Did I officially screw the pooch, here?” She slapped her hands to her mouth, then held them in front of her. “You know what I mean.”

  Faith folded slender arms over her breasts, and for a moment didn’t give Sofie a single damn clue as to what she was thinking. A second and a half later, she let her have it.

  “Fly free, my little bird.” Faith rounded the desk, bent over Sofie’s chair, and hugged her neck. When she stood, she gave an overexaggerated shrug. “I don’t know why you insist on beating yourself up. You should have what you want. Everyone else in the world seems to get what they want. And no one seems to care about the consequences.”

  Uh-oh. This did not sound good.

  Faith walked around the empty shop, her voice escalating in frustration. “Michael. Didn’t Michael have what he wanted? He had Cookie. He still has Cookie. He’s probably taking her on the cruise he bought for my birthday. And what about my mother? Doesn’t Linda Shelby always get what she wants? Does she not have a way-too-young male hand model prancing around her house, lounging at her pool, drinking her beer—which makes no sense by the way because he has abs of steel. How can he drink beer?”

  Oh yeah, Faith’s meltdown was bad. The pressure of living with her mother had finally gotten to her. When Faith left Michael, she’d tried to find an apartment in Evergreen Cove, but the only place not too close to rental properties teeming with kids and noise and vacationers had a hellacious waiting list. Faith put her name in, but until then, she was stuck under her mother’s roof.

  “And what about Skylar?” Faith said, tossing her hands into the air. “My baby sister gets what she wants. Guess where I moved her when I helped her out of her boyfriend’s house?”

  Cautiously, Sofie asked, “Where?”

  “Into her own house! Her own house!”

  “Let me guess.” Sofie crossed the room. “Your mom furnished the house. As in paid for the house?”

  “Furnished as in bought furniture, and furnished as in paid for the damn house.” Faith’s voice went quiet, losing steam. “Here’s the clincher. I can’t decide why I’m so upset. If my mom offered to buy and furnish my house, I would never let her.”

  She wouldn’t. Sofie had known Faith for a long time, and the woman was independent. Faith’s mother gifted both her girls thousands of dollars each year, but Faith insisted on working. Refusing the money caused a huge rift, so Faith kept it, investing it instead. Up until recently, that nest egg was supposed to fund a wedding for her and Michael.

  Faith blew out a breath. “We were talking about you. Not me. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’ve been through a lot.”

  A resilient smile found her friend’s face. “You and Donovan did the hanky-panky. Now you’re not sure if you want to do it again…” She motioned with one hand for Sofie to tell the rest.

  Well, that was some conversation starter. Sofie walked to the window and watched the quiet street. May as well admit the truth.

  “I want to do it again,” she announced to Endless Avenue just beyond her reflection on the pane. “I want to do it again and again and again. He’s crazy sexy, and he…” He knew how to move his body the right way to give her an orgasm propped against a washing machine. But she had some pride, and she wasn’t abou
t to tell Faith that part.

  Gosh. The washing machine. Sofie had never done it anywhere other than a bed. Or the couch.

  And that’d been with Donny, too.

  Anyway.

  Moving on.

  “So what’s the problem?” Faith asked when Sofie turned around to face her. “Do him. Do him while he’s in town and when he leaves town you can stop doing him.”

  Sofie crossed her arms over her stomach. Holding on to… she didn’t even know what. “But isn’t that stupid? If you look at our history, it’s not like he was great to me seven years ago. Would I be dumb to get involved with him again?”

  Faith grasped Sofie’s shoulders. “Your eyes are wide open. They weren’t back then. Now, you’re in control. You know who Donny is, and who he isn’t.”

  Sofie locked her arms around her stomach tighter. She knew way more about him than she used to. Part of her did feel like she knew him.

  “You have the power to walk away. That’s all the power you need.” Faith’s voice went soft, her eyes sad. “You can trust me on that.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ruby came into Make It an Event at her scheduled time, and Sofie and Faith ironed out the last of the details for the charity dinner. Ruby was pleased Sofie handled planning for the kids to be involved both at the campout the night before the dinner, as well as having them involved in serving and preparing the food.

  Sofie contacted the caterer and arranged to have her make a trip out to Open Arms to meet the kids before the charity dinner. All volunteered of course. Thanks to Faith, who was a silver-tongued devil on the telephone. And Sofie had taken on the task of convincing Abundance Market to donate quite a bit of food for the dinner. Faith’s wounds were a little fresh for her to be contacting her former workplace.

  Faith stayed at the shop to finalize the plans with the decorator and get an updated headcount for the dinner. Sofie, though it was likely the last place she should be, climbed into her car and drove to Pate Mansion.

  Her best friend had made a good point about Sofie embracing her inner harlot and sleeping with Donovan while he was here. Sofie was still making up her mind about whether or not she could be that girl when she pulled into the driveway.

  She got out of her car and counted two… wait, no, three incredibly attractive men in the backyard.

  The temperature was hovering in the mid-eighties and the humidity was a million percent, making for a very hot spring. Which might explain why the three guys in the yard, their arms bare, one of them shirtless, were glistening with sweat.

  It was a most beautiful sight. Shame Faith wasn’t here to enjoy it with her.

  Sofie stood in the driveway, keys in her palm, purse in hand, staring. But she hadn’t been caught yet, so she continued to stare.

  Connor wore work gloves, low-slung jeans, and instead of a shirt, a sheen of sweat shined off his broad, muscular back. He lifted a bundle of sticks tied with twine, his biceps bunching with the movement.

  There was another guy she didn’t recognize standing next to Donovan. He was pointing at a tall tree, a chainsaw resting on the ground next to his work boots. He was in loose cargo pants and a tee, his big arms crossed over his chest, a battered straw fedora askance on his head.

  Donovan stood in a similar stance, arms crossed, tight tank top hugging the contoured muscles in his back. Battered, threadbare jeans hugged impressive thighs. Her mouth watered as her eyes tracked up to the tattoos on his arms. She was really going to have to get a closer look at those. Yesterday, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his face… or separate her brain from the amazing sex long enough to study his tats.

  As many a fantasy took root, she blinked Donovan into focus to notice he’d looked over his shoulder and caught her staring. The corner of his tempting mouth slid upward. He turned and prowled toward her in a long-legged lope she now recognized as more cautious than careless.

  It was like all the things she thought she knew about him seven years ago were slanted, off-center. Her perspective had shifted. Or maybe her focus had intensified.

  “Scampi. Didn’t expect to see you today. Aren’t you tired?”

  She had started walking toward him, but stopped dead in her tracks. Did he seriously say that?

  The brown-haired guy with the hat cocked a smile in her direction.

  “All that painting,” Donovan said, squinting in the sunlight. He smirked.

  She blushed.

  “Ant,” Donovan called.

  Ant?

  The man wearing the hat paced over to them.

  “Meet Sofie.”

  Ant closed the gap between them, arm extended. “Anthony Renaldo. Tree guy.”

  His huge hand clasped hers and he gave two solid pumps. He was big, wider than Donovan and almost as tall. Attractive as he was, he paled in comparison to the six-foot-four, black-haired, silver-blue-eyed, tanned man standing next to him.

  As she cataloged every inch, she realized her hand was still in Ant’s but she was staring at Donny. She pulled away after an unnaturally long handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

  Donny winked, a smile sitting on his lips. Her thighs heated.

  She really was a goner.

  No, you’re not. You’re just taking what you want. When have you ever taken what you wanted?

  The only time she had was with the man she was admiring now. Things hadn’t ended well for her the first time. Not at all.

  But you are different now. You’re stronger.

  She was. But was she strong enough to endure another broken heart?

  “Don’t listen to him,” Donny interrupted her thoughts. “Ant is a carpenter more than a tree guy.”

  Ant regarded the ground, looking humbled, and for such a big guy, it was kind of adorable.

  “I’m just going to…” She pointed toward the house, then lifted a hand to return the wave Connor gave her from the other side of the yard. Seriously, the man candy here was bordering citation. Penalty: Too many hot men on the field.

  Before she could embarrass herself by drooling down her shirt, she hustled inside.

  What she found in the dining room surprised her. The plastic covering the floor was gone, the table and chairs back where they belonged instead of shoved against the back wall. The paint buckets were sealed and stacked in the corner of the room, the paintbrushes cleaned and lying on a towel in a neat line. She tipped her head to study the top section of the wall that needed another coat yesterday.

  Wet paint gleamed.

  Finished. The dining room was finished. The pictures and sconces hung, the outlet covers screwed back into the wall. She’d come back here to take care of it herself, but now there was no need.

  “Thought you might be too tired to come in today.”

  She turned to find Donovan leaning in the doorway separating the kitchen and dining room. “That’s the second time you said that.” She walked a few steps closer to him, his magnetic pull too much to resist. “I can’t help but think you might be referring to what happened”—she tilted her head toward the direction of the utility room—“ yesterday.”

  A sinister, downright sexy smile curled his lips. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you?” Oh yeah, her resolve was melting like ice cream under hot, hot fudge.

  He pushed off the door frame and came to her in three strides.

  Really hot.

  When he reached her, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a brief, sweet kiss. And sweet was just about the only thing she didn’t think she could handle from this man. She didn’t have a category to file it under in her head.

  “You got me,” he murmured, and for a second her heart stopped. Because that’s what she wanted. Him. He hooked a finger under her chin. “I like thinking about what we did yesterday. I liked doing it more.”

  His fingers left her chin to graze her neck, his body heat radiating and mingling with hers, the smell of his sweat-and-sunshine-soaked skin tickling her nose. The fight—not th
at there was much of it left to begin with—drained out of her.

  Donny was more fun to kiss than he was to fight. She tipped her chin to accept the next kiss he offered.

  “Probably don’t appreciate me this close to you after working outside. Other than yesterday, been a while since I’ve been this close to a woman.”

  She felt one of her eyebrows raise. “What constitutes ‘a while’ in Donny Pate’s world? Seven days? Twelve days? Don’t tell me it’s been three whole weeks?”

  His lips twitched. “When’d you get that smart mouth?”

  He winked again, and her knees melted. Or maybe her knees were melting because his fingers had left her neck and were currently toying with the low neckline of her shirt.

  “Bit longer than three weeks,” he said, fingers trickling over her collarbone. He bent to give her another kiss. Then his hands left her and he walked into the foyer. “Gonna grab a shower. Assume you’ll be here a while?”

  Well. She wasn’t leaving now. Surely, there was something else she could do here. Too bad it wasn’t within the vicinity of Donovan’s shower. His eyes went from her face to her shirt, and she felt her nipples tighten as if he’d touched her.

  “I’ll be here,” she promised.

  “Good,” was all he said.

  She bit her lip and listened to his heavy footfalls on the stairs.

  He should’ve invited her to join him. A shower wasn’t just a shower with Sofie Martin in his house. Now that he’d stripped her bare and had driven inside of her, being under the hot water was distracting to the nth degree. Not like he’d never taken care of himself in the shower before. Sometimes he had to clean the pipes, if for no other reason than to get blood pumping back to his brain.

  His stint of celibacy over, all he could think about was sex. Not just sex, but sex with Scampi.

  Right about now, felt like he’d lost fifty IQ points.

  He scrubbed quickly, ignoring the twitch of his dick, attempting to keep his hands moving rather than settle on any one area. A swipe here, a wash there, just enough to get himself soaped up and wiped down.