Bringing Home the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Pants, Ace.”

  It took a second to reroute her thoughts.

  “Unbutton my pants,” he reiterated.

  Crap! She was already screwing this up. Ignoring the burn of embarrassment in her face, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He left her briefly to discard them and pull off his shirt.

  She tried not to read too much meaning into the tats, tried not to remember his entire family had been permanently inked into his body. Tried to ignore the feeling of disloyalty, like she was being silently watched and/or judged. Instead, she focused on the arm with the evergreen trees. Let her eyes wander up his arm and over his muscular chest, before skimming down his firm abdomen. She followed the line of her eyes with her fingers, savoring the feel of his hot skin while his fingers danced over her body: plucking a nipple, dipping into her well of desire, coating her brain in lust-addled confusion.

  When she reached his black briefs, tenting impressively, she cupped his length in her hand and stroked. He filled her palm, and her mind flashed a pleasant vision of him filling her elsewhere.

  But… she hadn’t planned on doing this on the couch.

  She stopped stroking him to deliver the bad news. “Condoms are in my bedroom.”

  His sly smile clicked into place. He put his hand on hers and encouraged her to stroke him some more, which she did. Happily.

  “I have condoms.”

  He came down over her, kissing her mouth hard as his cock grew harder against her. By then, all rational thought had leaked out her ears, and by the time he stood to pull the condom from his jeans, strip his briefs off, and roll the protection on, she was damn near panting.

  Evan half-naked was worthy of a photograph.

  Evan all-the-way-naked was worth casting in bronze.

  He laid over her, his body covering her cooling skin. When she thought he would have nudged her entrance, he paused, the length of him resting against her thigh instead.

  “Ace.”

  “What?” she asked, alarmed. What had she done wrong?

  He grinned. “You want this?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. No hesitation.

  His grin widened.

  “You want me?”

  “I want you.”

  “Say it.”

  “I want you.”

  “Say my name.”

  She met his eyes, unerring in their quest to see right through to her soul. “Evan.” The tip of his cock entered her. On a breath, she said, “I want you,” then gasped when he slid inside. What was most definitely a moan pulled from her lips like taffy. Long and loose, and oh-so-sweet.

  “Almost there, sweetheart. You okay?” he asked with what sounded like painstaking effort.

  Wait.

  Almost?

  “There’s more?” she breathed.

  He chuckled and she learned a second later there was, indeed, more. She accepted every inch, wrapping her legs around his back and tilting her hips to meet him. He eased into her the rest of the way as she clung to his solid back with both hands.

  “Charlie.” Her whispered name against her lips filled her heart as much as he’d filled her body. “Okay, baby?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes as he came to her, chest to chest, hips to hips. “I’m so good.”

  He began moving, his strokes long and slow. Her desire built with each thrust, her body winding tighter and tighter.

  Unbelievably tighter.

  She said his name on a sigh and held on.

  “Have you ever come like this, Ace?” he panted, sliding into her again.

  “I… I don’t think so.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did, seeing the unmistakably cocksure tilt gracing his lips. He lowered onto an elbow, sifted his fingers into her hair, and anchored his other palm onto the arm of the couch. “Hang on, sweetheart. ’Cause you’re about to.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. Feeding her fingers into his hair, she hung on as he ratcheted his speed up, up, up, until the friction and sweat from their bodies had her eyes shutting in ecstasy.

  Every long, wet pound hit her deep in her core. This was going to be a big one, she could tell.

  Harder and faster, he slammed into her while she squirmed beneath him, her voice strained and tight as she made a series of nonsensical sounds.

  “That’s it, Ace,” he said between expelled breaths. “Let go, baby.”

  She obeyed, exploding on a cry of release, her hands clawing at his scalp as he continued thrusting—mercilessly, and without pausing to give her a prayer of recovering. Her orgasm stretched out on waves, coming at her until her shouts had waned to nothing more than exhausted, muffled mewls.

  Sweat tracked down her temple, her body damp with it, and he continued moving. Finally, he claimed his own release on a long, low breath. He dropped down on top of her and blew out an Uhhh, followed by a wheezy laugh.

  A laugh? Oh, no.

  She felt her entire body grow rigid as she snapped out of whatever post-coital bliss she’d been about to slip into. Taking her hands from his hair, she tried to pull them to her body but he let her do no such thing.

  He was in the way. Inside her, pinning her down with his weight. There was no way to curl away from him. To curl into herself.

  “Enjoy it. Stop fussing.”

  She ignored him and fussed.

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Since she figured this discussion would continue until she told him anyway, she told him. “You laughed. Was it… not okay for you?”

  The frown eased into a look of satisfaction, his eyebrows returning to their neutral, unconcerned homes. “Charlie,” he said gently. Too gently.

  Oh no.

  “It’s okay if it wasn’t… okay… for you.” Ugh. There was no easy way to say this. She’d just have to say it. “If you want me to do something differently next time, I want to know so I can please you.”

  “Ace.”

  “For however long this lasts.”

  “Ace.”

  The firmness in his voice made her clamp her lips together and listen.

  “I swear to you, I’m going to find Russell and put one dent in his fancy-ass car for every wrong thing he said to you to make you this insecure.”

  She winced. Not for worry over Russell’s stupid Escalade, but because she didn’t like Evan seeing her insecurity so clearly.

  “I’m sweating,” he said. “Out of breath. Damn near cracked a tooth trying to hold on ’til you stopped coming.”

  She blinked at him.

  With a kiss to her lips, and a forward thrust that had him pushing deep inside her again, he kept talking. “Wanna know what it feels like to be embedded deep inside you, Ace?”

  The breath leaving her lips stuttered out, uneven.

  “It’s hot.” He licked her ear and nipped.

  She squirmed.

  Another thrust. “It’s wet.”

  Her arms loosened, one hand returning lazily to his hair.

  “You pumping around me, clamping down over and over and over. So tight, had to concentrate to hold off.”

  She curled her fingers into his hair. “But you did.”

  “Yeah, Ace. I did,” he whispered.

  He kissed her for a long time, before pulling out of her body. When he did, he stood, held out a hand, and tugged her down the hallway.

  In the bathroom, he disposed of the condom and turned on the shower. Sticking a hand through the gap in the curtain, he tested the water temperature while watching her. She’d leaned against the sink, naked as the day was long, trying really, really hard not to cover herself.

  He grinned.

  “What?” She wasn’t the least bit miffed but pretended to be.

  “You said ‘next time.’ ”

  She felt her cheeks go warm.

  “Gotta tell you, glad there’s going to be a next time.”

  Her cheeks went warmer. She was glad, too. Especially now that she knew she’d pleased him.

 
He shook his head gently.

  “What now?” she asked with a smile of her own.

  “Gonna show you.”

  She had to incline her head to look at his face, since she’d been taking a long gander at his nude body. “Show me what?”

  Wolfish was the only way to describe his expression.

  “Everything you let me. Repeatedly. Until you know, without a doubt, how amazing you are.”

  Before she could recover from that coherent and completely flustering statement, he took her hand, kissed her palm, and shoved them both under the spray. After they made out for many luxurious minutes under the hot water, he pressed his body to hers.

  “Spread your legs.”

  “Evan. You don’t have to—”

  “Ace. Legs,” he said, not willing to hear her argument. In fact, he was already lowering himself to the tub floor. “Want to taste you.”

  And here, in the alternate realm of her reality, she leaned back against the shower wall and watched the man of her fantasies work to prove to her she was amazing.

  Funny thing was, she’d started to believe him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Charlie woke in the morning to the smoky smell of bacon. The alarm clock then informed her it was not morning. It wasn’t even late morning.

  “Twelve oh-five?” She bolted up, muscles she hadn’t used in too long sore. She’d slept in nothing, apparently. Nothing but her lotion-covered skin. Evan had insisted on applying it after her shower and she’d insisted he didn’t have to.

  He listened as well as he had earlier. Not at all.

  He’d guided her into her too-small bedroom and too-small bed and tossed her down onto it. “Lotion, Ace.”

  “Too tired.”

  “Lotion.”

  Bossy. Too tired to argue, she pointed to the coconut-vanilla fragrance she’d chosen for summer sitting on her dresser. He picked it up, shook it, and put a knee on the bed, dipping the mattress significantly under his weight.

  It’d been a long time since a man significantly dipped the mattress with his weight. She decided she liked it. And liked that it was Evan, who had a healthy amount of lotion on his hand, tossed the bottle aside, and rubbed his palms together.

  Seeing him naked wasn’t a sight she had yet gotten used to—maybe never would get used to. All that still-damp, tousled dark hair, thick, dark brows, the fan of thicker, darker eyelashes. And then there was his chest, the hair curling over his pecs, swirling around his belly button, and tapering off in a trail into his shorts. Only now, there were no shorts. It tapered into the length of his semi-hard penis, and that, she decided, was a beautiful, beautiful sight.

  Warmed, slick lotion hit her thigh as he worked it into her muscles, half-massaging, half-copping a feel before running both hands down the length of her leg. She closed her eyes, moaning long and low and enjoying lying in bed, her body warm, his rough, talented hands sliding over her skin.

  Yes. She could get used to this.

  After an epic foot massage, he put a hand on the bed, leaned over her, and grabbed the bottle of lotion. While there, he turned his head to suckle her nipple for a few hot seconds before returning his attention to her other thigh.

  Air cooled her damp flesh, her hips lifting involuntarily as her fists tightened around the sheets.

  “Be patient.” He rubbed his hands to warm the lotion and started on her other thigh. “You’ll get more.” The devilish smile quirking his lips could cause an orgasm on its own.

  “Who said I want more?” she dared.

  His smile dropped. “That a challenge?”

  Yes, please.

  “Yeah.”

  Tossing the bottle aside, he’d positioned himself over top of her and brushed her belly with his erection. He lowered his mouth and tongued her breast, encircling the nipple until it hardened. She began squirming all over again.

  “You want more,” he stated.

  He was right.

  Rather than say he was right, she whispered, “Ev.”

  He’d hesitated over her other nipple, his warm breath cascading over her skin.

  That’s when she realized what she’d said. She’d never called him “Ev” before. And the reason she’d never called him that before was because Ev was Rae’s nickname for him.

  Sacred ground.

  His mouth returned to her nipple where he took his time laving her. When her eyes had closed, and her hips had canted, and her mind had erased, he let her go with a soft pop and said, “Like that.”

  She liked it very much, so she answered, “Yes.”

  He moved to her lips. She opened her eyes as he kissed her and then he spoke against them. “Like when you call me Ev.”

  She blinked at him, taking in all of him—the bright, heated blue eyes, sexy bedhead, strong, inked arms, and thick, muscled chest. “You do?”

  Nose nuzzling hers, he said simply, “Yeah.”

  And maybe it was simple. Maybe she’d been complicating everything.

  “Want more?”

  She nodded.

  “What do you say?”

  “Um… please?”

  He kissed her bottom lip and spoke in a low, rumbling, sensual voice that chilled her overheated body. “Please what?”

  “Please, Ev,” she whispered. This earned her another kiss, a longer, wetter, deeper one than before. He followed his tongue down her neck and to her breasts again, a rippling orgasm building between her legs despite the fact he hadn’t touched her there.

  “Ev,” she panted again. “Now, please. Now.”

  He didn’t leave her breasts right away, settling in to torture her in the sweetest way possible for several minutes. Then when she’d nearly torn his hair out by the root, brought the walls down with her loud wails, he left her, rolled on a condom, and came back to her.

  When his lips closed over her breast, and she’d tipped her chin back to moan, he entered her. No warning, no nudge, just one long, deep slide until he was encased to the hilt.

  Her hands returned to his hair, where she held tight while he continued torturing her with his talented mouth and drove into her slowly, ever-so-slowly, until she was writhing, shaking, and practically crying from her powerful release.

  She’d collapsed with a happy, exhausted smile on her face, her muscles thoroughly worn out. Evan continued applying lotion to every inch of her skin he’d missed—paying way too much attention to her breasts, not that she complained—and tucked himself into bed behind her, his arm locked around her waist.

  Shortly thereafter, with his front warming her back, she’d conked out.

  And slept until midday.

  “Crap!” She hustled to the bathroom, brushing her hair and teeth simultaneously. There was an appointment on her calendar for today, she was sure of it. What was it? She needed to get to her phone but wasn’t willing to go past the kitchen—where he was cooking—and retrieve her cell from the desk until she looked halfway presentable.

  Five minutes later, satisfied she’d achieved at least halfway, she slowed her rushed pace and attempted to amble into her living room. She shot a glance over at the stove, a prepared casual “good morning” on the tip of her tongue.

  The words wouldn’t leave her mouth.

  Evan stood at the stove, nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs cupping his fabulous ass. Bare feet, bare calves, bare thighs. Naked back and shoulders. She studied the hand braced on the countertop, followed the evergreen tattoos up his arm to the shoulder featuring the regal profile of a lion, and up to his hair she doubted he’d bothered to brush.

  Every inch of him so delightful to look at, she stared, phone forgotten, calendar forgotten…

  “Ouch! Dammit!” He jumped away from the burner and flipped the stovetop off, turning to swipe at his stomach with a dishtowel. When he saw her watching, his lips kicked into a wry grin.

  “Never fry bacon naked,” he said.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It makes for a fun show.”

  Tossing her blue-and-wh
ite-checkered dishtowel over his shoulder, he pulled her to him, delivering a very long, very slow, very deep good-morning kiss.

  It ended too soon.

  Eyes closed, she murmured, “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. “I have to work today.”

  “Hmm.” He frowned, then winked. “BLT?”

  “Coffee.”

  “And BLT,” he answered, moving away from her to plate her breakfast.

  Unapologetically, she watched his butt as he moved around her kitchen, getting the coffee on, putting bread in the toaster. She tried not to admire how at home he looked there, or how much she liked him taking up a portion of her space.

  She turned away and unplugged her charging phone to check her calendar.

  Phew.

  The only “appointment” she had today was to touch up the Johnson reunion photos and e-mail them to Tami. It would take all day, but at least she didn’t have to physically go anywhere.

  He delivered her breakfast to her desk five minutes later while munching on a piece of bacon. “What’cha got?”

  She looked up from her phone, having begun scrolling through e-mails. “A day full of Photoshop.” She wrinkled her nose.

  He gestured to himself. “Swine Flew sketches.”

  “Can you draw in the daylight?” she teased.

  He angled his head. “You continue to keep me up all night, Ace, I’m going to have to make it work.”

  Flattered, she smiled and put a palm to her reddening cheek.

  A thought about how this situation would so not work once Lyon was back home infiltrated her mind, but she hid from it. When she’d come home last night and changed into her lingerie, she’d made a promise to herself to have some fun. To be brave. This thing between her and Evan may only last until Lyon came home, and after, only exist in sneaky rendezvous when Lyon was at school, but she was willing to do a bit of circumventing to get what she wanted.

  But when she glanced over and caught the flash of the sparrow etched onto Evan’s inner forearm, she thought of Rae. Rae, maybe only in memory if not in spirit. She was always with them. Always. Charlie imagined he’d compartmentalized Rae for the time being. She could do that, too. Forget her guilt for a few days. It’d be worth it.