I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances

by Sophie Brooks

  “The week went by pretty fast,” he allowed. “You’ve been here for only a few days, though.”

  “I have other clients, too. Suddenly, I got slammed and there’s no way I can tell them to wait.”

  He chuckled his breathy laugh. “Keep goin’ like that, and you’ll have to start a regular company.”

  “I sent two of the bigger ones to Wilson.”

  He nodded. “A girl of her word. Although, I always knew you would be.”

  Rick performed his speech over and over until he sounded natural and not so nervous anymore; when he remembered not to speak to the ceiling or to the floor, we called Raf and his other partner, Louis Shiffer, to be our audience. Those three used to work together at Provoid before the big derivatives scandal hit both the news and the courtroom. All three of them were making the best of their second chance; their bosses and some colleagues sat in jail, except for Logee: that bastard escaped his jail sentence by somehow acquiring a multitude of health conditions, reportedly including blindness, and lived in an assisted living institution. Blaine Kirby used to report to Logee, as I had found out from Rick Blanchard only today. Those two were probably in cahoots.

  Rick ran through his Power Point presentation without a hitch.

  “Not bad, not bad,” Shiffer said in his monotone, green eyes sparkling behind his glasses with attention to detail. Coming from him, it meant “Bloody fantastic! You’re such a genius!”

  Rick knew that. “I just follow the commands of our marketing queen here.”

  I could just feel Rafael stiffen, but he didn’t say anything. He’d been so controlled in the last few days - mellow, even - to the point of absurdly boring. I met his eyes from across the conference table.

  “Lunch?” He asked.

  “Please.” His azure eyes brightened at my response, and he nodded to the others. “Eve and I will be out for an hour.”

  “Aww, Rafael, you’re excluding me again.” Rick’s cackle followed us out the door and echoed all the way down to the elevators.

  I’d woken up with those familiar arms around me. The large mirror on the white walls reflected the dawn light that filtered through the white sheers with shy hesitation. The sideways cityscape graced the other wall, emanating its hopeful cheer.

  My room, my bed, my sword.

  My place.

  The arms pulled me in some more, reminding me of my dilemma.

  I briefly wondered whether allowing Rinaldi to sleep over had been a mistake, but he’d behaved himself so far, his restraint the very picture of contrition. Now, his pleasant warmth was spooning me from behind, his arms squeezing me tight. Unbidden, a thought of the old, ragged Puissy with its stuffing coming out floated into my consciousness. I’ve become his comfort item and now basked in his warmth, enjoying the firm press of his body, the soft pillow of his relaxed arm, his breath in my hair. Despite what had transpired between, I’d found his warm scent pleasantly arousing. That fact alone imbued my chest with warm, fluffy feeling: there was hope for us.

  The luxurious embrace had been shattered by the sound of his cell phone alarm. His arms left me out in the cold; I’d felt him tuck me in and sneak out of my new bed, slipping into yesterday’s clothes. I let him, curious to see what he’d do.

  My eyes fluttered almost shut; I felt his shadow over me as he leaned to kiss my forehead.

  “Gotta go, Eve. I have to be in the office by eight.”

  My arms snaked out from underneath the warm covers, pulling him down for a kiss.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, feigning sleep. Our lips met; I couldn’t take it anymore and cracked open my eyes. His gaze was guarded, hesitant. I gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

  “I love you, Rafael.”

  He sank to his knees, burying his face under my chin.

  “Oh god, Evelyn. I…I…I don’t deserve you. I gotta go.” His voice was tight and raspy, overcome by emotion, and I was sorry to see his back disappear out the door. The lock clicked shut and I was alone in my space, the spicy scent of Raf still lingering in the air.

  The elevator came. We stepped into the empty cab. Rafael, usually physically forward, stuck his hands behind his back and leaned on them. This was the first time we were alone since Sunday.

  I craved his touch.

  Now you remember what I told you about adrenaline. It’s what makes my world interesting. Adrenaline can be obtained in various ways; the threat of being caught is one of them. I spanned the three feet between us and let my arms slide up his shoulders.

  “Hey, Rafael.”

  His hands stayed behind his back.

  I pulled his head down and pressed my lips against his in a tender kiss. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said with a tight smile. “I’m…I’m just working on it, y’know?”

  “Working on what?”

  “Control.”

  “I meant what I’d said.” My voice was stern and we both knew what I was talking about.

  “I know.” His hands finally emerged from their hiding place. With careful hesitation, he slipped them around my back, pulling me in. His chin rested on top of my head for another three floors.

  “I want to be deserving of those words, Evelyn.”

  Then we ground to a halt and broke our embrace, standing side by side as several office drones stepped in. I couldn’t have described them if my life depended on it.

  WHEN WE got to the restaurant, he opened the door for me. He pulled the chair out for me. He asked me what I’d like to eat.

  I sighed. In his effort to gain better control over his temper, he’d started to treat me like a spun-glass figurine. Very courteous and chivalrous and Victorian. I decided not to say anything. First of all, the experience was rather intriguing – nobody had ever treated me like that before. A brief thought of dressing in pink, fluffy dresses to better fill the role crossed my mind – a thought best suppressed. Second, I don’t think he’d have stopped if I asked him to. He had a Strategy in mind, one with a capital “S”, and he’d follow it in his quest for personal perfection. I could only hope it was just a short-lived phase and he wouldn’t go too overboard.

  Twenty minutes later, I was playing with my chopsticks, chasing an errant grain of rice.

  “Craggs called,” I said. “He wants me to create a marketing program for his gym. They started losing the women to Zumba.”

  “What’s Zumba?” Raf asked.

  “I don’t know. Some exercise. These fads are cyclical, though. He needs to up his membership. So we devised this internet coupon strategy for an almost-free introductory seminar to climbing.”

  “Oh yeah? How much is he paying?”

  “We bartered. The two of us get to climb and rent gear free for a year.”

  “Is that worth it?”

  “Depends on how often we climb. However,” I punctuated with my chopsticks in the air, “he’ll ask Blaine Kirby to teach the seminar. Craggs will feign being sick with the flu and Frankie will feign having a sprained wrist, so they’ll turn to him. He has the expertise. It will stroke his ego just to be asked.”

  Rafael’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “So, what’s the catch?”

  “I get to participate as a novice climber. That way, it won’t be suspicious for him to run into me, considering he sees me at your place a lot.” And that way I get to flirt with him and get to know him closer – Mata Hari, eat your heart out.

  “No.” I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

  “It’s already been arranged. It’s this Saturday, nine to noon. In case you don’t realize, this will be highly frustrating for me. I have to play a newbie. It’s not like I’ll get to climb and have fun at all.”

  “I don’t like it.” I saw his hands grip the edge of the table, crinkling the white tablecloth.

  “Frankie will be there, supervising. Afterward, the guys and I are meeting at the Loose Rock to discuss what I’ve found, and to just hang out. I thought… would you like to come along?�
��

  His blue eyes, sapphire-hard, bore into me. “I see you have it all planned out. I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way. It won’t bring Celia back to life.”

  “You don’t want to see justice done?”

  “I do! Of course I do. I’ve spent sleepless nights, thinking of so many different ways to just kill that unworthy sonovabitch.” He took in my shocked expression. “I won’t. Not unless he threatens you.”

  “You’re not the only one, Rafael. There’s a whole community of climbers out there that loved her. You have no idea to what lengths she’d gone to recruit and train new climbers. To inspire them, see? One climber killing another like that – it violates everything we do. Everything this sport stands for. Letting another guy, or gal, hold the end of that rope while you’re up there is a sacred trust. Had he just shot her in some alley, it would have been cleaner. We can’t stand for this. We police our own.”

  Rafael’s straining jaw muscle couldn’t have been any tighter. I observed in quiet fascination as he stood, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wide.

  Anything could have happened.

  Storming out.

  Shouting.

  Slamming the table with his fist.

  He did none of that. With quiet determination he extricated the serving platter from underneath his curry bowl and threw it, as hard as he could, against the nearest wall. The eerie silence was broken by the sound of shattered china, and by the alarmed shouts of waiters and customers alike.

  WE TOOK the long way to the office, walking fast, shedding excess adrenaline. It wasn’t every day we got thrown out of a restaurant. There was a nip in the air and I felt my face flush with both weather and excitement.

  “So…Rafael.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “How did it feel?”

  He stopped and grinned, his sexy, devastating smirk back at full power. He pushed my shoulders against the rough, elaborate carvings on a façade of an old bank building. The fine weave of my suit jacket’s fabric gripped the abrasive sandstone grains and I felt the delicate microfibers snag.

  “It felt fucking fabulous.”

  I grinned back, throwing my head back against the cool stone.

  Inviting him.

  Soft, demanding lips claimed mine.

  Finally!

  I gasped in pleasure at our first kiss in many days. He swallowed my whimper of pleasure as my fingers plunged into his brown, wavy hair.

  Don’t stop…don’t...stop…

  We broke for air, laughing like idiots.

  “If I don’t get any work done today, it’s your fault, Pearson.”

  “I’m almost done with Rick – I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  “I don’t want you out of my hair.”

  We left the solid support of the wall, our fingers brushing all the way back to Rafael’s office.

  MY ROPE spun as I hung in the air, helpless. Bare, muscled legs emerged from my Lycra shorts, stretched and bent in a casual display as I arched my torso back, throwing my head back to give Blaine Kirby a sultry, upside-down grin.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Blaine. That ledge is bloody impossible.”

  He smirked and belayed me down, nice and slow.

  “Straighten up. You want to land on your feet.”

  I did, the unfamiliar, rented climbing shoes hitting the rubber padding of the North Face Climbing Gym floor. A few of the other class attendees made appreciative noises as to the quality of my effort. I only hoped I didn’t do too well before I lost my grip and fell off.

  “Yeah, thanks!” I grinned, noticing Frankie’s stunned face in my peripheral vision. “That was my best try so far!”

  “Yer doin’ OK, kid,” Blaine Kirby said, patting my shoulder, his long-fingered hand resting there just a bit longer than convention demanded.

  “Next!”

  Others took their turn, two of them making it as far as I had. Class was officially over after that, and Frankie appeared with a handful of pamphlets and coupons, encouraging us all to come and try again. It was time to turn in the rented harnesses and climbing shoes and join the others in reentering our regular, mundane lives.

  The harness I had on wasn’t anywhere as nice as the one I owned. The too-narrow straps had the unfortunate tendency to get stuck in the buckles. I knew how to remedy the problem, of course, but since the others were struggling with their harnesses, I was determined to flail around and struggle with mine.

  “Damn…this stupid…thing’s….STUCK!” I hissed, just loud enough to hear, yanking on a strap and tightening it even more.

  “Havin’ trouble there, Evelyn?”

  I scowled at Blaine, mostly because it was expected. “I’m stuck.”

  “Here, lemme help ya.” The tall man knelt before me, sliding his long fingers along the stuck strap, tugging on it experimentally.

  “Spread your legs a bit,” he said. My eyes were locked on his face as he said that, and I could see him suppress a grin. “It’s so tight, it doesn’t want to let go. I’ll need to get some slack.”

  “Uh…okay.” I moved my feet a shoulder’s width apart, feeling Blaine’s fingers slide under the leg straps digging into my thighs. His hand turned in the tight space, his thumb wedged under the offending strap, pulling it forward and gaining enough slack to loosen the buckle with his other hand. He switched hands and repeated the process on the other side; this time, his fingers brushed against me on the way out. Even knowing he’d probably do that, the drag of long, smooth fingers over my Lycra-covered tender bits startled me; I made a show of biting back a gasp and stumbling forward. I caught myself on his shoulder, his eyes now staring at my navel. My tight shorts left little to the imagination. It was, after all, my job to lead Blaine Kirby on. He unfastened the main buckle, letting my harness fall to the ground. His eyes paused on my chest before they slid up to mine and he grinned, revealing a set of white, prominent teeth.

  “You may wanna be careful with those straps.”

  “Uh-huh.” I turned away from him and adjusted my garments. The others were gone except for Frankie, who busied himself with straightening the rubber mats on the floor, coiling the ropes, wiping excess chalk off the handholds - simply keeping an eye on me.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. “I’ll go change.”

  I’ve been molested in the line of duty.

  Actually, truth be told, it didn’t feel so bad. The realization made me feel guilty. Raf would be meeting me in two hours, worried sick, and here I was, enjoying the wandering hands of his prime adversary. Just thinking of Raf made me flush with anticipation. I took my time washing my hands and splashing cold water in my face, thinking of how much fun it was to anticipate Rafael’s presence again and then berating myself for attaching myself to Raf so easily.

  I walked out into the lobby. Craggs was there, poring over some numbers with his punked-out daughter, Rosalie. I didn’t nod to him because Blaine was there, waiting for me.

  “Hey, Evelyn! How about we grab some lunch?”

  I looked surprised at first, then embarrassed, then mournful. “Sorry, not today. I already promised to be somewhere.”

  “How about dinner, then?” Blaine’s wide grin looked both inviting and predatory.

  “Well…” I let the idea roll around in my head for a while. Perhaps a challenge would deter him. “Do you even know how to cook?”

  He shot me a victorious gleam. “Sure as hell I know how to cook! Italian okay?” I nodded. “I’ll need your address,” I said, eyes downcast. Quickly I summoned the image of him touching me there, in public, and my blush bloomed obediently on my already rosy cheeks.

  He wrote the address down for me. “See you at seven, then.”

  Blaine pushed the glass door open and left. As soon as he was gone, Craggs and Frankie were on me like wasps on a fallen pear.

  “Are you fuckin’ nuts? You’re goin’ to visit a murderer? And what about yer new boyfriend?” Craggs leaned against the counter, staring down his beaky nose at
me.

  “Yeah… what about Rafael, Eve?” Frankie said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

  I twiddled with my backpack straps, so reminiscent of that conveniently tight harness.

  “It’s just dinner, guys. I just needed to know where he lives. It’s not like I’m staying the night.”

  I CALLED Raf on my way to the Loose Rock, letting him know that the rumors of my death had been greatly exaggerated. He agreed to meet me at the gym and furthermore, he agreed to stop and buy sandwiches for lunch.

  Not twenty minutes later, we sat in the empty locker room, straddling the bench in the middle, facing one another while digging into our subs and drinking soda. I gave him the full report between bites, omitting nothing.

  He held his cool pretty well until I got to the stuck harness part. He growled; looked around, grasped the paper sandwich wrapper and threw it against the nearest locker. We watched the wadded-up piece of paper fall to the ground, gentle and almost silent.

  “Shit. What can I break?”

  “Not much, around here.”

  “Evelyn,” he growled in my direction. I got up, picked up our garbage and disposed of it. Then I fished in my backpack and produced a flat, square, crinkly package.