British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Marissa Farrar

  ***

  The rocks were slick from the rain and, as they neared the summit of Helvellyn, the wind got up, sapping energy Lauren couldn’t afford to lose as the weather worsened. They were only halfway done. She’d need all her strength to finish. It was a rare day when it was calm at the summit of any of the high fells. Yet even with the roar of the wind and the needle sharp horizontal rain that hit them in the face as they ran, there were several dozen intrepid souls waiting at the summit to cheer Lauren on. A few chanted, ‘Wolf apologise!’ She couldn’t help feeling bad for him even if he did deserve it.

  As they passed Helvellyn’s treacherous wall-like spine that was Striding Edge, Lauren was shocked to see a few hearty people inching their way across the high narrow edge, in spite of the poor conditions. The wind raged until they dropped below the summit, then it slacked off, but not the rain. As it intensified and the threat of mist breathed down their necks, their pace slowed, and she had to admit, she was glad for Wolf’s experienced presence. “Not that way,” he yelled, checking the compass again and wiping rain from his eyes. “I made that mistake once in a heavy mist. Had a helluva time getting down to Grisedale Tarn.”

  She fell twice more on the descent to the tarn off Dollywagon Pike, ignoring the blood that mixed with water and stained her sock. With the rocks slick and with the challenge to see through the rain slashing at her face, running became a glorified shuffle. Exhaustion crept in bone-deep, making her muzzy-headed and disconnected – dangerous conditions for a fell runner. The third time she lost her balance, she would have done a swan dive and surely broken bones if Wolf hadn’t grabbed the tail of her waterproof at the last minute, both of them slipping and sliding on the eroded slope of Fairfield struggling to get traction and stop their downward momentum. Once their footing was stable again, he shoved her down on her butt. For an interminable moment she sat trembling, hoping he couldn’t tell the difference between the tears stinging her eyes and the rain. He pulled out his flask and filled the cup with steaming liquid. “Drink,” he commanded, thrusting it into her hand. “It’s just sweetened tea.”

  “I gotta keep moving. I’ve already lost so much time,” she shoved the cup back at him.

  “Fuck the time.” He lifted it to her lips and held it until she sipped. “We get there safe and in one piece if it takes all night. You know the rules. Now drink.”

  She obeyed and instantly felt better.

  “Eat this.” He handed her an energy bar, which he’d already unwrapped for her. “Believe me you’ll make up the lost time when you’re hydrated and you’re not running on empty. I know, I’ve done the Bob Graham three times.”

  “In under twenty-four hours?” She asked around a bite of chocolate.

  “Of course.” For the first time in the day, he gave her a twitch of a smile, and her heart ached at the thought of him guiding her, training her, keeping her safe on the fells and yet having bet against her.

  She was numb by the time they came off Seat Sandal along Raise Beck heading for Dunmail Raise. There were blisters on both her feet. They’d hurt like crazy tomorrow along with the bruises and abrasions– more than she cared to think about. But she was going to finish it. That was all that mattered right now, all that she would allow into her head. Anything else might break her in two, and she refused to fall apart in front of an audience. She would tuck her victory away to savour when her heart didn’t hurt so bad, when perhaps she could get beyond how Wolf had tarnished the whole experience.

  At Dunmail Raise, Claire was waiting along with the cameras and reporters. There were the usual questions—how did she feel? What was the best part? The worst? When she swayed on her feet, Wolf slipped his arm around her and Claire shooed them both into the waiting limo then shut the door before either of them could protest.

  In the quiet of the car with only the sound of the rain on the roof, Wolf stuck out his arm displaying the stopwatch on his Fitbit. “Congratulations, you made your goal in spite of everything.”

  She couldn’t help it. She was just too tired for the internal editor to be functioning well. “And you lost your bet,” she managed.

  Then she laid her head back on the seat and fell asleep, but not before she heard him say softly, “actually, I won.”

  Chapter 11

  The Prize

  Lauren was never quite sure how Claire did it. Maybe she commandeered the helicopter, but she was already waiting for them at the Wolf’s Lair when they arrived. Before either of them could do more than blink at the flash of cameras, someone shoved champagne flutes into their hands. Claire gave both of them a quick hug and said, “there’s been a change of plans. You’ve got time to get showered and changed and then get to the set for one last interview.”

  With both of them too tired to protest, they did as she said. Half an hour later Lauren stumbled into the studio and settled in next to Wolf without looking at him. As Misty and Del came back live from the footage of Lauren’s final descent, Claire slipped into the seat on the other side of Lauren.

  “And we’re back at the Wolf’s Lair with Lauren and Wolf and our special guest Claire Amos, founder and CEO of Physicality, Inc.” Misty turned her best television smile on Lauren. “Four hours and fifty-nine minutes. In spite of the weather you met your challenge time, Lauren by finishing in under five hours. Did you know that?”

  “Wolf told me,” she said forcing a smile she really didn’t feel. No doubt Misty sensed the strain, but instead of turning her attention to Wolf, she turned to Claire.

  “Ms. Amos, there’s a reason why you’re here other than to help your girl celebrate. Care to tell us about it?”

  “Thank you, Misty.” She shot the camera a blinding smile. “Yes I would, because I’m pretty sure Del won’t tell us.” She gave the man a look that could have peeled paint, “even though he knows. And Wolf, well Wolf won’t tell us because he’s pig-headed and stubborn.” Wolf blinked and gave her a warning glare, which she totally ignored. “Wolf’s just had a call from Keswick Mountain Rescue thanking him for the very generous donation.”

  As Del shifted nervously in his seat, Wolf grabbed onto his chair arms as though he feared it would eject him. The muscles along his jaw twitched and the line of his mouth became a tight, thin line. “They called me too,” Claire continued, “because they were none too happy about the misunderstanding concerning Wolf’s bet. And yes, Wolf did place a bet—a huge bet, in fact. Not only did he place a bet, but he encouraged many of his friends to do the same. But where Del seemed to get a little mixed up on his facts is just what that bet was. Since I’m all about truth in journalism, I’m here to set the record straight.” The audience on the mezzanine murmured, intrigued, and Claire continued. “Wolf didn’t bet against Lauren, he bet for her. Not only did he bet that she would finish out her first week, but that she would go on to finish the whole challenge. And then after she chose her challenge, he placed another bet on top of that, a bet that she would achieve her goal of finishing her leg of the Bob Graham Round in under five hours. The winnings from both of those bets were immediately turned over to Keswick Mountain Rescue to the tune of £100,000.” The mezzanine erupted in gasps of surprise and then thunderous applause, which Claire politely waited for. “Personally, I think Wolf suffered enough needless humiliation in the last twenty-four hours, and while the man may choose to suffer in silence, I don’t, and I’m the boss.”

  Lauren felt as though the floor had given way beneath her. Del was sputtering and muttering and making excuses, and it was goddamned irritating when his lies last night had taken the joy out of a challenge she would have loved nothing more than to share with the man she had grown to respect and care for. “Shut up, Del,” she said quietly, but loud enough that she heard his teeth snap as he shut his mouth. The studio went dead silent, and she turned her full attention to Wolf, who looked like he was about to make a run for it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His face was emotionless other than the hard line of his jaw and the twitching of a m
uscle above his left cheek. “I shouldn’t have had to. You should have trusted that I would have never bet against my own client, and certainly not against someone I respected and … cared about.”

  “After I’d just found out the whole thing was an act, that Wolf Jennings was an act? How was I supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t?”

  “Wolf Jennings is not an act. And I would never fake the rapport with a client. Certainly not with you.”

  “Look I think this has all been a big misunderstanding and—”

  “Shut up Del,” they both said at the same time.

  “The bets, I didn’t do any of it for the attention. I don’t need that kind of attention. I did it because it rankled me that people were taking such stupid bets against someone they didn’t know. Even in the beginning I knew enough about you to know you wouldn’t quit. Claire Amos doesn’t hire quitters, and I don’t train them either.” Wolf ran a hand through his hair and puffed out a breath. “You’re my client, and I wouldn’t be much of a trainer if I couldn’t do the job. And yes, I am an actor, and yes, the bad boy approach was—”

  “That was my idea,” Claire added softly. Then she shrugged. “I just thought it would make the situation more interesting—you know immovable object and all.”

  “Keswick Mountain Rescue saved my life a long time ago,” Wolf said, “That I can even walk, let alone enjoy the level of fitness I do, it’s all down to their quick response. I don’t need the money, so it was obvious what to do with my winnings.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lauren said.

  “So am I.” This time it was Wolf who pulled off his mic, stood and walked off stage. And suddenly Claire’s little finale and reveal became background noise as Lauren shoved aside her own mic and followed him. “Wolf,” she called. “Wolf wait.”

  “Keep the cameras on them,” Claire said.

  But this time, Lauren didn’t care what the camera recorded. “You should have told me,” she said, falling in beside him, struggling to keep pace. “And I shouldn’t have doubted you. Frankly, even I would have betted against me in the beginning. I didn’t want to be here, and I … I wanted things between us to be the way they were in the pub. You, I didn’t know. Not the way you are here in your world.”

  “Well this is my world, Lauren, and I train my people hard. I train them to succeed, never to fail. How could you not have known that?” When he didn’t slow up, she grabbed him and pulled him to her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere away from here. I’ve had enough.” He pulled free and headed up the stairs.

  Claire’s voice registered as background noise as she ordered the cameras to stay on them, all but took over the director’s job.

  “We’re not finished here.” As they reached the mezzanine, Lauren did a quick step and planted herself in front of him. “If I didn’t get to walk out, you don’t get to walk out either.”

  This time, he grabbed a glass of fizz someone had left on one of the mezzanine tables and tossed it in her face.

  She gave a gasp, and a tight curse and wiped at her eyes.

  “I owed you that.” He looked as though he could chew nails. “And frankly I think—”

  Before he could finish, she grabbed a glass of her own and tossed it at him. “You bastard. You deserved it. You deserved everything and more. Way more.” She grabbed a handful of the nut mix placed out for the audience who had been partying on the mezzanine and tossed them at him in fast succession, as they repeatedly hit him in the chest and bounced off.

  “Oh yeah?” He grabbed her wrist in a vice grip and reeled her in. “Well so do you. You whined and winged and complained until I needed earplugs.”

  “Did not.” She reached for more nut mix with the other hand, but he was too fast, securing both her wrists.

  “Did so.”

  “You were deliberately mean.” She tried to kick at him, but he pulled his leg aside.

  “Was not.”

  “Were so.” She yanked one wrist free and gave him a totally impotent shove just before he pinned both of her arms and pulled her in tight against his chest until she huffed for breath.

  “Was not.” Holding her secure with one arm, he fisted a hand in her hair and took her mouth with bruising force, swallowing her yelp of surprise. Her efforts to hit him devolved into efforts to drag him still closer, surrendering to the none-too gentle battle of tongues and teeth.

  The audience on the mezzanine erupted into whoops and cheers, as she all but climbed his body. It was Claire’s voice coming over the monitor that finally got their attention. “While I’m sure some of these nasty people would love to see more of your steamy performance, there’s a limo waiting outside to take you someplace with no cameras, no recording devices, no Closet. Enjoy. You’ve earned it.”

  The cheers became louder and the crowd parted making room for them as Wolf all but dragged her to the exit and out into the driveway where a shiny black limo with a liveried driver waited. He opened the door and said quietly, “I’ll drive around until you give me a rap on the privacy glass then I’ll deliver you to the place Ms. Amos has picked out for you.” He offered a discrete smile. “Between the three of us, I think you’ll like it.”

  “Hope you have a full tank of petrol,” Wolf said.

  “Of course,” the driver replied. “Though I do expect hunger will force the issue long before petrol becomes a problem.”

  They didn’t wait for the limo to move before they were on each other again. Wolf pulled her into his lap and worried open the buttons on her blouse while his kisses followed the trail to cleavage. “You taste like champagne.” His warm breath caused a rise of goose flesh over the tops of her breasts and her nipples pressed to painful peeks against the bra.

  “That would be your fault.” She pulled and yanked at his shirttail and ran a hand up underneath to rake nails over his pectoral muscle, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as she thumbed a nipple.

  “Guess I’ll have to clean you up.” His words were slurred as he ran his tongue over the tops of her breasts and up along the tetchy, sensitive nape of her neck, ending with a nip of her earlobe. Then he kissed and licked his way back to her mouth. When he’d paid proper homage there, he repeated his efforts on the other side, lapping and licking and sucking back down into her cleavage. This time he shoved aside bra straps and lifted her breasts free, attending to places she was pretty sure were not in need of cleaning. Her tetchy shifting and rocking against his lap left no doubt as to the intense pressure now threatening his fly.

  He scrunched up her skirt until it was a useless wrinkle of fabric around her hips, then he fingered the crotch of her panties aside. They both sighed at her obvious need for his attention in intimate places. She went to work on his jeans, cursing at the awkwardness of her efforts. It was his fault for distracting her so. But he was good at multitasking. While he concentrated oral efforts on her heavy nipples, he did things with his fingers between her legs that made her forget her own name. At the same time he managed to shove her hands away, undo his jeans and lift his arse off the seat to ease them down enough to free himself. All of which he did without dumping her on the floor. A strip of condoms conveniently placed on top of the wet bar was more proof that Claire Amos was as intuitive as she was manipulative. Together they sheathed him in a wave of breathless giggles. Then she straddled his lap, and he entered her with a single thrust that had them both gasping and moaning. A moment to catch their breath and regain their control, and the urgency of their need took over. The chauffeur had been right, it was hunger that drove them to ground at last, but not before they’d seriously put the limo’s shocks to the test.

  Chapter 12

  One Year Later

  “This is Misty Daniels reporting from the top of Sca Fell Pike, and I have to say this is the strangest wedding I’ve ever been invited to. But no one would deny that it’ll go down as the wedding of the year.” The camera cut to the glorious views at fell top, and Misty continued the voice
over. “Lauren and Wolf couldn’t have picked a better day for it. Sunshine, almost no wind, and a glorious thirteen degrees here at the top of the highest mountain in England. Now as those of you at home can see, this isn’t your typical wedding crowd because it’s a 3210 feet ascent to get here. Lauren and Wolf have picked the longest, steepest aisle in England to walk down … or should I say to walk up. Believe it or not, Claire Amos, the founder and CEO of Physicality Inc., and the matchmaker for our lovely couple, will be performing the ceremony, though rumour has it her certificate of ordination comes from a magazine ad. Never mind that though. Our lovely couple took care of legalities and official paperwork down in Keswick, but this is where they wanted to share their celebration with the world, and they wanted Ms. Amos presiding over the blessed event.”

  She approached Claire Amos, who was dressed in a cherry red power suit with a matching pair of nosebleed Kurt Geigers. “Claire, we can assume you didn’t make the trek up Sca Fell Pike dressed like that.”

  “God no!” the woman said. She gave a little nod, and the camera panned to a small blue dome tent just off to one side. “Believe me the effort of dressing and putting on make-up inside that was almost harder than the ascent.”

  “Can you give us a recap of what’s been going on with Lauren and Wolf since the spectacular finish of Physicality Reality last year?”

  “Well, Misty, Lauren has gone from strength to strength, which doesn’t surprise any of us who know her.” The camera cut to a helicopter view of the two now making their final ascent. “She said before Physicality Reality ended that she wanted to keep training and return to complete the Bob Graham Round, which she did a few months ago, joining the Twenty-four hour club with time to spare.”

  Misty gave the viewers a recap of the Bob Graham Round and the Twenty-Four Hour Club. “Many of you out there will have watched that exciting event on the much-anticipated follow-up to Physicality Reality. Of course Wolf Jennings trained her and ran by her side the whole way.” She returned the microphone to Claire.