Dangerously Bad

by Eden Bradley

  That thought made his stomach turn.

  Give her up? He’d rather cut off his left nut. And that settled that—neither was happening anytime soon.

  • • •

  “HEY, KITTY, IT’S me.”

  “Well. I thought I was going to have to call out the search party and dredge the swamps, girl,” Layla’s friend told her. “Hang on a sec, honey. Yes, she needs to have lowlights, Chelsea, not more highlights. Good Lord, the woman is going to bleach herself into brain damage—you make sure she understands that. I’m not having anyone leaving my salon with hair like straw, even if it is almost Halloween. Sorry, Layla, hon. Work issues. So, you gonna tell me where the hell you’ve been? And I’m hoping it’s in his bed so I don’t have to be mad at you.”

  Layla grinned, leaning toward her bathroom mirror and smoothing a stray curl away from her headset. “Of course it’s been his bed. And mine. And his kitchen counter and his shower and his dungeon room.”

  Kitty lowered her voice, hissing at her, “He has his own freakin’ dungeon room? You’ve been holding out on me! We need to get together if you can manage to tear yourself away from him for five minutes so we can catch up. It feels like it’s been a million years since we’ve had a good sit-down. How long have you been seeing him now?”

  “Almost a month.”

  Kitty let out a low whistle. “Boy, do you sound smug about that.”

  “I do not,” Layla protested with a laugh.

  “Okay, but yeah, you do.”

  She couldn’t argue the point any further. “It’s good to hear your voice, Kitty.”

  “It’s good to hear yours, and to hear you sound so happy. So, what are you doing now?”

  “I’m standing in front of the mirror and kind of grinning at myself like an idiot, and hating myself a little bit for it.”

  “Aw, you need to cut yourself some slack. Not that I want to lose my best friend to another relationship—”

  “That won’t happen again. Ever. I swear it.”

  “—even for the honeymoon period, but I’m trying real hard not to be selfish.”

  “This isn’t a ‘honeymoon’ kind of thing, Kitty.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I can’t even think about it in those terms,” Layla said.

  “Maybe it’s about time you do. I have a feeling this one could be good for you.”

  “Well, we’ll see.”

  “I haven’t heard a single reason for you not to trust him. Except for that part about him being the biggest playboy at The Bastille since Finn arrived from the club in Atlanta, but Rosie cured him quick enough. Why shouldn’t you be the one to cure Duff?”

  “I’m not about to cure anyone of anything. I’ve hit my head against that wall often enough, and I’m done.”

  “Crap. I always manage to say the wrong thing, don’t I?”

  “No, it’s not your fault I have so much relationship baggage. And I didn’t mean to be so defensive.”

  “That’s okay, honey.”

  “So . . . what I really called about was to see if you’re going to be at the Halloween party at Midnight Ink this weekend? I can’t believe we haven’t talked about it yet.”

  “Of course I’m going. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “That’s good. Because Duff is coming with me, and I’d really like for you to spend a few minutes with him.”

  “Mm-hmm. Because he’s not that important and you’re not getting emotionally involved? Oh, stop your sputtering—you know I can’t resist teasing you. But I’ll be more than happy to check him out close up. I need to be sure he’s good enough for my best friend.”

  “Thanks, Kitty.”

  “It’ll be fun. I can tell him all the embarrassing stories about you.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s exactly why I wanted you to come. On second thought, maybe you’d better stay home that night.”

  “Not a chance. I’ll be there with bells on,” Kitty said. “Well, not literally, since it’s not a costume party. But . . . you know what I mean.”

  “You can always make me smile.”

  “That’s my job, hon. Okay, I’ll see you and your new man Saturday night at the tattoo shop. And since my life has been supremely dull lately, maybe one of you can introduce me to one of his hot Dom friends.”

  “I’ll see what we can do. See you there.”

  She hung up, knowing she’d sort of just bullshitted her way through the conversation. And she knew just as well that Kitty saw right through her, which was the beauty of their close friendship. She only hoped Duff couldn’t see it, too. Because she still couldn’t trust that this was right, no matter how utterly right it felt—or maybe because it did.

  But it had only been a month. She didn’t need to worry about all that yet, did she? Even if the intensity of kink in a relationship had a tendency to step up the pace, the sense of connection—if the people involved let it.

  Was she letting it? Or was it so far beyond her control there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it?

  She didn’t like that thought. She never liked being out of control, except when she did like it, with Duff.

  Leaning over the bathroom sink, she asked her reflection in the mirror, “What am I going to do with you?”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have an answer. She was going to have to live with the fear nagging at the back of her mind. Luckily, most of the time, the sheer pleasure of being with Duff, under his hands, in his bed, talking with him, joking with him, kept her distracted.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said to the mirror. “You just keep telling yourself he’s nothing but a distraction. Especially since you just now thought of this thing with him—whatever it is—as a ‘relationship.’”

  Since she had no reasonable reply, she turned away and headed out to her studio to work. And hoped she wouldn’t end up sculpting yet another clay phallus modeled on Duff’s.

  • • •

  IT WAS SATURDAY night and Layla had been thrilled when Duff picked her up for the party wearing his black utility kilt with his big black boots—one of her favorite looks on a man, and the combination had never looked better than it did on him. He’d lifted her into the SGR Motors truck—apparently he didn’t like to ride his Harley in a skirt, either—and they’d driven down to Canal Street, where Rosie’s tattoo shop, Midnight Ink, was located. Well, the shop was owned by her cousin, Christi, a successful indie musician who had bought the place when their uncle, the infamous tattoo artist Henry Lee, had passed away. Layla hadn’t had the opportunity to meet Christi before, and she was looking forward to it, as well as to the evening ahead.

  They’d somehow found parking a block away, and were walking down Canal Street, Duff’s hand at the small of her back. The weather was just cool enough to wear a light coat, but even through her short leather jacket, she could feel the heat of his big hand, something she’d come to love—that and his protective nature when they were out in public, which surprised her. She’d always been the kind of woman—even the kind of girl as far back as middle school—who watched out for herself. But she had to admit there was something very girlish in her that appreciated having someone watch over her. And suddenly, the idea of that made her breath catch in her throat.

  Never had this before. No man’s ever wanted to treat me this way—as if I’m something precious. Maybe it’s about time.

  “Hey, lovely, what’s on your mind?” Duff asked.

  “What? Nothing,” she fibbed. “Just checking out this area of town. I haven’t been down here in a while.”

  “I like it. I like all of this city. Which is a good thing, since I intend to call it home.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed, trying to ignore the small voice rejoicing inside her head that he wasn’t planning on heading back to Scotland anytime soon. Instead, she asked, “So, who do you know from the shop, aside from Ros
ie?”

  “I met a few of ’em when I was in there getting my bio-mech piece done a few months ago—Christi’s girl, Etta, dropped in to see Rosie, although he wasn’t around. Declan was there—great guy and amazing artist. And the huge guy with the shaved head . . . Caliph is his name, yeah?”

  “Yes. His work is incredible, too. Have you met Eli, their piercer? You know, in case you wanted to have another piercing done.”

  “Fuck no—the one nipple was as much as I could take. I’m a big baby when it comes to having needles jabbed in my body. Ah, here we are.”

  He swung open the door and held it for her, and she was greeted by music, then by the hulking blond Finn taking her in a big bear hug that nearly smothered her.

  “You’re a pretty sight for sore eyes, Layla,” he proclaimed, his Aussie accent lending good humor to everything he said.

  “Oh, ’cause you’re not getting enough pretty at home, you monster?” Rosie teased, coming up behind him and elbowing him out of the way to wrap her arms around Layla.

  “Always, my girl. The prettiest girl in town.” He leaned down to give Rosie a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek and a pat on her bottom. “And Duff—good to see you.”

  He and Duff gave each other a manly back-patting embrace, and as they stepped back Layla saw Finn also wore a black utility kilt.

  “Aw, you two dressed to match,” Rosie said. “How cute.”

  “You’ll pay for that later,” Finn told her, grabbing her and picking her up in one arm. “Or maybe right now.”

  Rosie pounded on his huge arm with her fists. “Put me down, you beast. I have a party to run.”

  “All right, all right. But later.” He kissed her cheek again and set her on her feet.

  “I actually did think we were cute,” Duff said, sending Rosie a wink and making them all laugh.

  “There are so many people here already,” Layla remarked.

  “It’ll be a good crowd tonight,” Rosie said. “And have you noticed nearly everyone is dressed in black? That’s what we get for throwing a party that’s almost all tattoo artists and kinky folk.”

  Duff let out a big laugh. “Right enough. But I hear black is the new black.”

  “It is in my book,” Rosie answered. “There are drinks in the cooler in the back hallway—beers and soda—and some harder stuff and snacks lined up on the reception desk. You two help yourselves to whatever you want.

  “Thanks—and don’t worry. We’re self-sufficient enough,” Layla said, giving her friend’s arm a squeeze. “You get back to hostessing.”

  “I will, but there are a few people I want to introduce you to first. My cousin, Christi, is in town, and I’ve been dying for you all to meet. Come on. Finn can hold down the fort for me for a minute.”

  She grabbed Layla’s hand and led her through the crowd, Duff sticking close by in that protective manner.

  “Christi, come and meet Layla’s new man, Duff—he’s Jamie’s cousin from Edinburgh.”

  Her man? Was that what he was? She didn’t think it was anything so official, but she was too momentarily stunned by the title to protest—it left her reeling a bit.

  Duff shook hands with the tall, dark-haired shop owner and famous indie rock star.

  “Great to meet you, man,” Christi said. “I need to come down and see the shop as soon as you’re open. I don’t know if anyone’s mentioned my love for a good Harley, but I’ll have some work for you as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Good man. Come anytime.”

  Christi grinned. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “Hello, Etta,” Duff said, taking the beautiful young woman’s hand and giving it a brief, respectful squeeze. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You, too.”

  Etta smiled shyly at Duff, then at Layla, then at Duff again, her lovely brown eyes lighting up, leaving Layla to wonder what Rosie had been saying about their relationship. Or was she wearing her ridiculous teenage giddiness over Duff on the outside for everyone to see?

  Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Kitty there, dressed in what she called her “power suit”—a waist-hugging corset in black satin with a deep blue damask pattern and a short black skirt. Layla hugged her friend, particularly happy to see her after the small shake-up she’d just had.

  “Kitty!”

  “Hi, honey. And this must be Duff. I’ve seen you before, but it’s nice to finally have a formal introduction.”

  “Too formal to hug my girl’s best friend?”

  “Of course not.”

  As Duff pulled Kitty into his arms, Layla had to wonder at all the assumptions being made about her relationship with Duff. It had been a month, for God’s sake! She knew they’d been kind of inseparable lately, but first Rosie, then apparently Etta, and now Duff himself. Especially Duff. What did this mean, if anything? Or did he call every girl he was seeing his “girl”?

  “Okay,” Kitty said, “which of these hot tattoo artists is single?”

  “Um . . .” Layla looked around the room, spotting the enormous Caliph with his girl, Jennifer, the beautiful Declan and the lovely Sophie, as well as Eli the piercer with his partners, Rhonda and Burt. She’d always had a little thing for the darkly stunning Eli, but he was firmly and lovingly involved with his triad. “Honey, I think all the artists are taken. But there are plenty of guests. And you’re looking extra hot tonight—I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

  “Well, then, I’m off to mingle for a few minutes. Be back after I get a drink and look around. But don’t think you’re off the hook that easily, Duff—you and I have to have a little Q&A before I’m able to approve you as acceptable company for my best friend.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kitty grinned. “That’s right.” She winked at Layla. “I like that he knows his place in the hierarchy.”

  After she’d wandered off, Duff leaned in close to Layla. “She’s a bit scary, that one.”

  “You’d do well to be scared. There are Kitty claws behind the soft curves and blond hair, and she’s very protective of me.”

  He leaned closer to brush a soft kiss across her cheek, then pulled back and caught her gaze with his. “So am I, princess.”

  “I . . .” But she didn’t know how to respond.

  What was happening here? What was happening to her? It felt as if she were giving too much over, even though it felt good. Hell, it felt amazing. And seeing all the happy couples among her friends at the party made something in her want the same. But she’d fucked that up pretty well before—what made her think she could really choose any better this time around?

  But when she looked up at Duff and saw the undeniably smitten grin on his face, that last wedge of resistance melted. And right there, in the middle of the party, she tilted her face up to be kissed.

  His kiss was soft, just a pressing of lips, then again, then a third time—just enough for her to temporarily lose herself, which was what always happened when this man kissed her. When he pulled back she had to silently order herself not to sigh aloud. But she sure as hell was sighing on the inside.

  His hand went to her hair, and he tucked a stray curl behind her heated cheek. The expression in his hazel eyes was soft, as if diffused by twilight. But the sun had already set, and the lighting in the shop was bright enough to tattoo by. What was going on with him? What was going on with her?

  “Hey, lovely girl,” he said, his tone low and husky.

  “Yes, Duff?” she asked, breathlessly. Why had his voice, the words, made her heart flutter in her chest?

  “It’s good to meet your friends. I’ve wanted to, you know. Because I—”

  “Hey there, Layla!”

  She turned to see the shop’s manager, Sassy, standing next to them with her hands on her softly flared hips, which were covered in snug black leather pants. He
r hair—which was ever-changing—was black and orange for the occasion, and there was a wide smile on her face. Layla had always thought she was gorgeous, with her caramel skin nearly the same shade as her own and her wild hair. And her personality always shone through, making everyone adore her.

  “Oh my God, Sassy—you are the only woman who could look this great after having twins.”

  “My partners, Ian and Rafe, between them keep me on my toes—I swear my two men are more work than little Ethan and Lily are. Not that I really mind. They find the best ways to burn the calories off me.”

  Layla grinned at her, glad to see her friend—and thrilled to see her so damn happy.

  Maybe I can have that, too.

  But she didn’t trust herself to even think the words. Instead, she turned to Duff.

  “This is Sassy, appropriately named shop manager. She’s another one to watch out for,” she teased.

  “I’ll be sure to keep my back to the wall from now on,” he responded, making Sassy grin.

  “I like this one,” her friend said. “I think he’s a keeper. And you’ve heard about my reputation for matchmaking—I always know these things.”

  Layla felt her tongue stall in her mouth—what could she possibly say to that? But Duff spoke up.

  “She hasn’t quite decided yet, but thank you for the vote of confidence, Sassy.”

  “Big, strapping dude like you who I could see from across the room treats her like a princess? Not even a question.”

  Treats me like a princess. Yes, he does.

  “Ooh, have to go say hi to someone. You two stay out of the punch,” Sassy warned. “I made it myself and I know for a fact it’s dangerous stuff.”

  “We shall take your sage advice,” Duff said, and Sassy stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “Yep. Keeper,” she said over her shoulder as she walked toward the front door.

  “Do you know everyone in here?” Duff asked.