Rescuing the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Get your ass up here.”

  She let him loose and licked her lips. Donovan hauled her up his body. Before she had a chance to straddle him, he rolled her to her back, parted her legs, and slammed inside her.

  Her head went back, her mouth dropping open.

  “Hard and fast,” she said before he could ask.

  “That’s my girl.” Weaving her fingers with his, he pushed one of her hands onto the pillow over her head and pounded into her again. Her feet came up, cupped his ass, and pulled him deeper.

  “Donny, God.”

  “I’ll take that title.” The words burst from between labored breaths as he continued pumping his hips and driving her out of her mind.

  Somehow, she managed a laugh. Maybe because she needed one. She wanted to let go of the stress of the charity dinner, of the fact that tomorrow night would be the last night she was here. Because after…

  She refused to think about what happened after.

  He bent his head and kissed her, increasing his speed, the friction of his chest hair hardening her nipples.

  “Scampi.”

  “Harder,” she gasped, clawing his back with her nails. Wanting everything he had—wanting to drain him, use him up, before…

  Again she killed the thought.

  “Roll over,” he said on a growl.

  Yes.

  Yes, please.

  He pulled out of her, leaving her empty and she rolled onto her belly. Anticipation was a coiling snake about to strike. Roughened palms gripped her hips, and Donovan hauled her butt into the air. She grasped the pillow in front of her, biting down on her lip. He kissed one of her butt cheeks, then the other before he slicked his tongue along her center.

  Sofie moaned.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” he said, placing a final damp kiss on her ass. Then she felt the slippery slide of the tip of his penis, and that coiling anticipation snapped.

  With one long push, he entered her, drawing another low moan from her throat. She hugged the pillow, her teeth biting into her forearms as he began to thrust. Each powerful movement slammed her against his thick, muscular thighs. Each thrust stretched her, hitting somewhere deep, deep in her core. Deeper than she’d felt before, unfurling a reaction she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to.

  She didn’t want to.

  Incoherent words tumbled from her lips, followed by the very real prayer of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

  “Scampi,” he grunted, still moving in and out at a mind-blowing pace. “You come when I say.”

  Not a chance. Her release was building, cresting. Already. Incredible.

  “Can’t,” she informed him, gasping, clutching on to the pillow as if it was the only thing keeping her from shattering. “Almost there.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Donny.”

  “Wait for me.” He pulled her hips against his thighs again, sending a drove of tingles through her body.

  “Wait,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

  Biting down on her lip, she endured the next intoxicating slide of his cock with her eyes shut. In an equally broken whisper she managed, “Please, Donny. Please.”

  “Almost, sweetheart.” He thrust, his fingers pressing into the flesh at her hips. Bending over her, he reached around with one hand and pinched her nipple at the same time he pushed into her.

  “Now,” he commanded.

  She climaxed on a cry. A loud cry he muted by covering her mouth with one hand. She bit down on to his finger as he thrust again and again, spilling into her. The thrusts slowed and he dropped his forehead, his palm leaving her mouth.

  She felt his breath fan her back when he spoke. “Loud.”

  Losing the ability to hold herself up, she collapsed on the bed with a smile that might stay on her face forever. The movement pulled Donovan from inside her.

  “Kids outside.” He collapsed next to her and kissed her shoulder.

  Oops, she’d forgotten about them. She’d forgotten everything, temporarily. Life was only a series of snaps, pops, and zaps jettisoning through her bloodstream. She still buzzed.

  “Your fault.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “You make me loud.” A satisfied smile arched her lips.

  A cocky grin overtook his as he continued to catch his breath.

  Rolling to her side, she put a palm on his back. “Never done that before.”

  He mirrored her movement, pulling her flush against him.

  “Which part?”

  “The… um. The… last part.” The from-behind part. Yowza.

  “More where that came from. My favorite part is your mouth.”

  He brushed his finger over her lips. She bit him lightly.

  “Liked that, did you?” she asked.

  “Scampi, I like everything you do to me.”

  Her heart filled to overflowing at the compliment. She liked everything he did to her. She imagined another reality where they stayed together, where they continued to push boundaries together. Continued one-upping themselves until both of them were panting and pleased every single day.

  A fantasy.

  Her smile faded. Not a reality at all.

  “I’ll start the shower.” He kissed her on the lips and climbed out of bed. Sofie stuck her hand underneath the pillow under her head and watched Donovan’s bare backside move across the shadowed room.

  So domestic. Pretend, she mentally corrected. Her Cinderella fantasy was winding to an end, her mansion about to turn into a pumpkin, her prince about to return to New York.

  “Come on, Scampi”—Donovan stood in the doorway of the bathroom—“my back isn’t going to wash itself.” He gave her a wink, then ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Neither is my front.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she clambered out of bed. “I’m coming.”

  He vanished into the bathroom calling behind him, “Did that already.”

  She smiled, but her smile felt sad. A black cloud she could no longer ignore loomed in the distance.

  Well.

  She’d have to forget the cloud for now. As Donovan had said to her before…

  “Is what it is,” she whispered to the empty bedroom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sofie fluffed Faith’s hair one final time and spritzed her with a quick shot of extra-hold hairspray. She hadn’t been in her own apartment for so long, the place felt sort of foreign.

  Faith stood from the edge of the bed and turned her head left, then right, studying her reflection in the full-length mirrored closet doors. Sofie had wound Faith’s fine, fair blond hair around a large-barreled curling iron and had given her big, fat waves. The length flowed over her golden-tanned shoulders, making her look like a supermodel… well, like more of a supermodel.

  Faith faced her and grinned. “You are so good at this, Sofie.” She propped her hands on her hips and ran a gaze down Sofie’s wardrobe to the very high, open-toed black heels on Sofie’s feet. “You look amazing in that dress.”

  Sofie wrinkled her nose. “Really? I was going to change it.” Her eyes went to the mirror. She would swear the dress was longer at the store when she tried it on. “The way the skirt flares.” She smoothed the back of the dress flat. Courtesy of her round bottom, it flared out again.

  “It’s gorgeous. If I had a caboose like you, I’d wear short skirts every day.”

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” She turned and bent slightly. “I’m not sure Ruby Voss wants to see quite this much of my thighs.”

  Faith, in her own little black dress, a svelte, sleeveless number that skimmed her sleek figure and ended demurely above her knees, held up a finger. “Do not change that dress. Yes, it’s shorter than you’re used to, but it is in no way inappropriate.”

  Maybe Sofie was worrying needlessly. After all, she needed something to obsess about in place of obsessing about Donovan. With a last, wary glance at the mirror, she said, “Fine. But if at any point you can see my underwear, flag me down.”

&nbs
p; “Done.”

  Classical music piped through the speakers in the ballroom, the sconces throwing low light on the walls. Evergreen Cove’s finest dressed residents milled about, filling the room with the din of casual chatter.

  Sofie knotted her hands together as she did another pass of the room. A few of the older kids from Open Arms, dressed in their best clothes for the event, served cupcakes from a table in the back. Others delivered mini desserts from Sugar Hi while a league of waiters in smart black pants, white shirts, and bow ties carried trays of slender champagne flutes.

  Dinner was delicious, five courses served to a sit-down crowd. She was still surprised how many items had been donated for the silent auction. One corner of the ballroom was absolutely packed with everything ranging from paintings to photographs to interior decorating packages from Cozy Home. But there were two items in particular that had received the most fanfare.

  Gloria Shields had taken the stage early in the evening to introduce Evan and Asher, who were autographing copies of The Adventures of Mad Cow. She announced a painting of the illustrated cartoon characters, Mad Cow and Swine Flew. Her tone was a little more strained and a lot less relaxed when she announced the next auction item: a private performance by Asher Knight and the rest of the band from Knight Time. Whatever had happened between Glo and Ash, Sofie guessed it would be a while before those wounds were mended.

  If at all.

  Proving relationships sucked basically everywhere, Faith, in an attempt to be cordial, was enduring—if not humoring—her ex-fiancé. Michael had shown up to represent Abundance Market, which Faith and Sofie agreed was respectable. Faith wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget the whole “Cookie” incident, but she admitted to Sofie that if he managed not to be a complete jackass while they were in the same room, she would see about forgiving him.

  And here she came now, striding over on heels not as tall as Sofie’s, but still she towered over her. At five-feet-ten, it didn’t take much for Faith to tower. She handed over a pink drink garnished with a cherry and a slice of fresh pineapple.

  Faith elevated her own glass. “Who knew something called ‘Swine Flew Fizz’ would taste as good as this delectable beverage?”

  “Where is Michael?” Sofie sipped her own drink.

  “I don’t know.” Faith rolled her eyes.

  “Smile, beautiful ladies.” Charlie appeared in front of them, camera raised.

  Faith and Sofie pressed their cheeks together and grinned.

  After the shutter clicked, Sofie said, “You should be about done, right? Have a drink with us.”

  Faith raised her glass. “They’re better than they sound.”

  “I didn’t intend for you to work the entire evening,” Sofie told Charlie. “I’m sure you have enough photos to supply Open Arms and me with plenty of advertising and fundraising shots.”

  Charlie examined the screen on her digital Nikon. “I don’t mind. Plus, my fiancé is busy writing his name in children’s books.” Her smile was proud, and when she locked eyes with Evan, Sofie watched Charlie’s smile turn lusty.

  Ah, amore.

  “Maybe I should forget Michael and take a stab at Asher,” Faith joked, sipping her Fizz and angling a gaze at the rock star.

  “Trust me, sweets,” Gloria said in that droll I’ve-seen-it-all manner she’d perfected, “you do not want a piece of that.”

  Faith choked, startled to find the raven-haired literary agent standing behind her.

  “Gloria.” With great effort, she cleared her throat. “I hope you know I was kidding. I know Asher is off-limits.”

  “He’s not off-limits to any other female on the planet. Or in his tour bus,” Gloria grumbled. “I don’t know why you should apologize.” She jerked her chin to a group of suits in the corner. Hot men with dashing smiles. “Get you one of those. Millionaires, billionaires, that’s the way to go.”

  “Yes,” said Kimber, joining their little group. “Because men with lots of money have zero problems.” She winked good-naturedly—the way Kimber approached everything, Sofie had noticed. Gosh, she liked her. Why didn’t she live closer?

  “Landon just needed a good woman.” Gloria elbowed Kimber in the arm.

  Evan’s oldest brother stood across the room, glass of scotch in hand, his other hand in his pocket. His hair was cut short and neat, a lighter shade of brown than Evan’s. The man looked hot in a tux and stylish black glasses. Kimber was equally gorgeous in a chic black dress with a hint of vintage lace along the arms and hemline.

  Crickitt August stepped up behind Kimber now, pink drink lifted to her lips. Sofie had met Crickitt earlier. The curly-headed beauty was married to Shane August, Landon’s business partner and CEO of August Industries. He was the broad-shouldered drink-of-water standing next to Landon. A head full of wavy, dark hair lay against his head, and Sofie would be lying if she said she hadn’t taken an appreciative gander at the way his pants cupped his butt. The man was not hard to look at.

  “It’s true, Shane is perfect and has never done anything wrong.” Crickitt tossed her chin-length curls with one hand and winked at the group. “I’m sure Charlie would agree Evan is similarly fault-free.”

  “Oh yes,” Charlie said, laying the sarcasm on thick. “We most certainly did not have an argument this morning about who put the nearly empty cereal box back in the cabinet.”

  “We went to the mat over where to eat dinner last night,” said the very petite, curvy blond bombshell who stepped into their inner circle next.

  “Sadie,” Crickitt introduced. “These are the girls.”

  After names were given, Sofie’s eyes went straight to Sadie’s shoes. “I love those.”

  “Jimmy Choo. Forty percent off.”

  Oh yeah, they were going to become fast friends.

  “Who won the dinner debate?” Kimber asked.

  “Me,” Sadie announced proudly. “Because he got his way about bringing the bike here.”

  Kimber’s eyebrows lifted. “You rode from Osborn to Evergreen Cove on his Harley?”

  “We did.”

  Yes, the Downeys—and their cousin, Shane, an honorary Downey—had heard of the charity dinner and swarmed. Like a troupe of well-meaning bees. Evan’s sister Angel and her husband, Richie, made the trip up from Tennessee. Sofie talked to the sassy brunette at the start of the evening.

  A dark blond head appeared over Sadie’s shoulder right then. The man had an open collar, long hair, and scruff on his attractive face.

  “Excuse me, mind if I borrow my wife?” He smiled as a pair of sea green eyes swept the group.

  “Aiden, meet the ladies.” Sadie melted into him, her smile clearly communicating she did not mind being dragged away.

  “Ladies,” he said, and Sofie would swear all of them—even the happily married ones—heaved a collective sigh.

  After he hauled Sadie to the dance floor, Gloria’s eyebrows shot up. “Good God. I forgot how potent he was.”

  Crickitt snorted. “Aiden is a one-woman guy. Trust me.”

  “That must be something,” Gloria commented, her smile falling. “Having a man be yours and only yours.” Her gaze tracked to Asher. “Knowing he’s not going anywhere.”

  Kimber’s arm wrapped around Gloria’s elbow.

  “Faith,” Glo said a second later. “Your cling-on approaches.”

  Michael strode over, a fake smile plastered on his face.

  “Faith,” he said, his eyes flitting around the rest of the group but not settling on any one person.

  He looked nervous. He ought to be. They knew what he’d done to their friend. He’d just meandered into the lion’s den.

  Faith’s impatient smile said she didn’t care how uncomfortable he was.

  “Michael. You should join the conversation. We were talking about one-woman men. You know, men who aren’t afraid of commitment.”

  Crickitt and Kimber sipped their drinks. Glo snorted, unable—or unwilling—to hide her amusement. Michael’s face blanched. T
hrough his thin pair of wire-framed glasses, he studied Faith through narrowed eyes.

  “Can I have a minute?” he asked, clearly frustrated.

  “Fine,” Faith told him. To Sofie she said, “Catch me up on what I miss, okay?”

  “No problem,” she promised, hoping her best friend wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

  After Faith excused herself, Sofie did as well. She clipped through the room, needing a break. She had to stop a few times to shake hands and chat with people she hadn’t talked to yet. At the door, she met Ben, the fourteen-year-old who shared his testimonial onstage tonight. His story of being an alcoholic at a very young age and how Open Arms had helped him heal. It was incredibly moving. She’d noticed several guests dabbing tears from their eyes.

  “Hey, Sofie,” Ben said. His eyes went over her shoulder where Ruby stood talking to a group of gentlemen. “I mean, Ms. Martin.”

  She smiled. “Sofie is fine. You did great tonight. Your story touched a lot of people.” Including Crickitt’s husband, Shane. He’d written a sizable check this evening to Open Arms after hearing Ben’s story. Sofie wondered if there was a story there. If Shane had related to Ben on some level; if Shane’s family, like Donny’s, had splintered.

  “Thanks. Uh, do you think Asher Knight would sign this?” Ben reached into his suit coat and extracted a Knight Time CD.

  Sofie palmed it. “I didn’t know kids—er, anyone bought CDs any longer.”

  He shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment.

  “You know what?” She waved over his head, catching Asher’s attention. “Go over there now. He doesn’t look busy. I know he’d love to sign it for you.”

  Ben pulled his shoulders back and started toward the famous rock star. Sofie took the reprieve and slipped out of the ballroom, desperate for a break from the crowd.

  In the hallway she passed a few loitering guests but didn’t pause on her journey to the great room. She pressed the door closed behind her and closed her eyes, resting her head on the panel. Sanctuary. Finally.

  “Scampi.”