Savage: A Bad Boy Fake Fiancé Romance

by Kira Blakely

  More importantly, he’s a dreamboat.

  As he walks back into the room with powerful strides, broad shoulders slouched just slightly, and wisps of sandy blonde hair dancing above his eyebrows, I find myself holding my breath, my heart pounding. Oh, what I would give to brush those wisps off his forehead, run my fingers across that prickly jaw or…

  Shit. Now I’m drooling.

  I manage to wipe my mouth and close it as Dash sits in front of me, though I think another part of me has started to moisten… I cross my legs.

  “What are you studying?” Dash asks as he looks over my laptop.

  “Oh, nothing,” I answer, quickly closing it.

  Wrong move. With my laptop out of the way, I’m staring right into the staggering barrel-like curves of his chest outlined by his white, cotton shirt. Either that, or I have no choice but to be held captive by those eyes that resembles skies before a downpour.

  He narrows those gorgeous eyes at me. “You weren’t watching porn, were you? Because you just acted like the way I did when my Mom used to catch me watching…”

  “No,” I cut him off, shaking my head.

  He touches his square chin. “It would make sense, you know, staying here upstairs all by yourself, sitting in a corner.”

  I frown. “I was studying for my accounting class.” “Sorry.” He laughs. “Just kidding.”

  And the sound of his laugh, playful yet deep and controlled, is enough to make me forgive him instantly.

  Shit. He even has a sexy laugh.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says as he strokes the handle of his fresh mug of beer. “We must have distracted you.”

  “Yeah, you weren’t exactly quiet.” I lift my cup of coffee to my lips, holding it with both hands. “But don’t blame yourself. I was already struggling when you walked in, and I just decided to give up. Besides, this is a bar. There’s bound to be arguments.”

  He taps his fingers on the table, making me realize for the first time how long they are. “Exactly. Which makes me wonder why you’re studying here.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I just can’t seem to study at my boarding house. The room’s too small. Here, there’s a lot of space and it’s usually quiet during the day, plus the chairs are comfy, Lloyd has good taste in music and the coffee is good, cheaper than Starbucks.”

  I take a sip.

  “Only you would come to a bar and order coffee. You might as well be at Starbucks.” He pushes his mug towards me. “Want to try it?”

  I stare at the mug, specifically at the rim where his lips were just moments earlier. Tempting but no.

  “No, thanks.” I set my cup down. “I’m fine with coffee.”

  Now, what? Talk about school? But it sounded like he never liked school and based on that conversation he just had with his brother, he’s leaving. Do I bring that up? No. That seems rude. Then what? Talk about the weather? Lame. But what else can we talk about? Apart from what I just heard, I don’t know anything about Dash and I definitely don’t think we have anything in common.

  So what? Just stay silent?

  Awkward. Thankfully, the food arrives.

  “Yum.” He strokes his chin as he stares at his plate of food with wide eyes. “That looks good.”

  “Yeah,” I agree as I look at mine, the seared tuna on a nest of mixed greens is absolutely appetizing. “You won’t get food like this in the Marines.”

  Oops. Did I just bring that up?

  “Ah.” He pops one of the fries on his plate inside his mouth. “So you were listening.”

  I pick up my fork. “Like I said, you weren’t exactly quiet.” He frowns. “Billy and I usually get along but, you know, even siblings go through a rough patch every now and then.”

  “No, I wouldn’t know.” I shake my head as I poke the fork into a piece of lettuce. “I don’t have any siblings.”

  “Oh.” Dash leans back in his chair. “Well, lucky you.”

  He narrows his eyes at me again, his intense stare making my knitted turtleneck feel as see-through as cling wrap. And it’s not just my turtleneck. Something in those narrowed eyes, gleaming with mystery and mischief, is making me feel completely naked.

  I blush then quickly start eating in hopes of dispelling my embarrassment.

  “Whoa. Slow down,” Dash tells me. “You can only stuff so much inside your mouth, you know.” My cheeks immediately get hotter.

  “You have to remember to swallow,” he adds.

  I almost cough so I stop eating, drinking what’s left of my coffee.

  “Do you like salad that much?”

  I shrug, setting my empty cup down and wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Do you like shrimp?”

  “I like seafood,” he admits, taking a bite out of his wrap. “But I like what I’m seeing right now more.”

  A little scoff pops out of me. “What? A skinny girl stuffing her face?”

  “A beautiful girl seeing something she wants and taking it.”

  I almost choke. I’m not used to guys talking to me like this. I’ve been nose-deep in textbooks throughout college. I’m still a virgin.

  I reach for my coffee cup so I can hide my face somehow, only to remember that I’ve just drank every last drop.

  “You know what?” I tell him. “I think I’ll have some beer.”

  “Hear that, Lloyd?” Dash calls out. “The lady will have a mug.”

  “Sure?” Lloyd asks from behind the bar.

  “Yup,” I confirm, looking at him then at Dash. “Just one, though.”

  Dash grins. “Whatever you say.”

  * * *

  “So, if you don’t mind my asking…” I set down my third mug, two not having been enough. “What made you think about joining the Marines?”

  Dash takes another sip from his fourth mug – or is it his fifth?

  “My desire to serve my country.” “Bullshit.”

  Alcohol may calm the nerves but it also loosens the tongue. The longer the conversation, the less polite it gets.

  He chuckles as he puts down his mug. “It’s more of an experiment, I guess. I want to find out what I’m made of, why I’m here and maybe find out what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life.”

  “Wow.” I nod. “That’s deep.”

  “You asked me to cut the crap,” he reminds me, running his fingers smoothly over the rim of his mug.

  “Sounds like you’re entering a monastery instead of the military.”

  “A monastery?” He scratches his chin.

  “Yeah. If you think about it, they have stuff in common.

  For starters, you’re all men–”

  “There are women in the Marines, too.”

  “But still mostly men. And then you’re away from home, you get bad food, and you spend a lot of time either training or doing nothing.”

  Dash taps his long fingers on the table. “You have a point, but you missed something very important. Most monks can’t have the women they want.”

  He’s giving me that look again, that look that makes my knees weak and my heart pound. My panties are getting damper by the second. He’s never looked at me that way before… but now that we’re sitting together, they come nonstop.

  “Make no mistake, Janine.” His fingers go from tapping to tracing circles over the wood. “I’m no monk, no saint.”

  I draw in a deep breath. “And I take it you’ve had every woman you ever wanted.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  I inhale sharply, disguising it by grabbing my mug and taking a big sip.

  “What about you?” He stretches his arms upwards as he sits back, the hem of his shirt crawling up to give me a glimpse of his six-pack and the tips of his V-line. “Why do you want to be an accountant?”

  “I just like numbers,” I answer, tearing my gaze away from those muscles. “I’ve always been good with them.”

  “Ah.” He clasps his hands on the table.

  I tuck some strands of hair behind my ear. “Yo
u think you’ll be a good soldier?”

  “I’m usually good at whatever I set out to do.” I can believe that.

  “You don’t like following orders, though,” I observe. “Who does?” He shrugs. “But I’ll adjust.”

  “And you don’t seem like a team player.”

  “Wow.” He strokes the outside of my mug. “Some people lose their insight after drinking but you seem to have picked up yours.”

  “It just takes one to know one,” I blurt out.

  I don’t know why I said that. Maybe I want to know him a little better. Maybe I want him to know me. Or maybe I’ve had too much to drink. Whatever the case, I’ve said it so I might as well continue.

  “Maybe it’s because I’m an only child but I’ve never liked working in groups or joining clubs. I’ve never had a lot of friends.”

  “Same here.” Dash traces circles on my mug. “Maybe that’s one reason why I’m signing up for the Marine Corps. Maybe I’m looking for a place to belong.”

  I draw in another deep breath. “Well, aren’t we all?”

  I reach for my mug to take another sip and briefly, my fingers brush against his. Briefly, but I can feel the electricity all the way to my toes.

  Just then, my phone vibrates, the sensation making me jolt. What is with all this buzzing?

  I take it out of my bag, looking at the screen. I have two messages, one an hour ago from my roommate, Shannon, which I’ve somehow missed, saying she’s sleeping over at a friend’s place and the one that just came in from Mrs. Cook, my landlady, who is looking for me and reminding me that she’ll lock the door if I’m not home by ten.

  It’s 9:52.

  Have I really been at the bar that long? “Shit.”

  I put my phone back in my bag and start packing my things. “What’s wrong?” Dash asks, concerned.

  “I know one thing – I don’t belong here right now and if I don’t get back to the boarding house in less than ten minutes, I won’t have a place to sleep.”

  Dash stands up. “Then let’s hope we can get you home in less than ten minutes.”

  We? I have no time to argue, though.

  “You have a car?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  I sure hope I can get back in time.

  * * *

  No such luck.

  By the time Dash and I get to the boarding house, it’s twelve minutes past ten and only the lights on the porch are on, the front and back doors bolted.

  “Shit.”

  I sit on the porch steps, running my hands through my hair in exasperation.

  Now, I’m locked out for the night.

  “Can’t you ask your landlady to let you in?” Dash glances at his watch as he stands across me. “It’s only a little past ten.” “For Mrs. Cook, rules are rules. Curfew is curfew. She says if you get caught breaking the law, you can’t make excuses so she’s not going to let us make excuses, either.” He touches his chin. “Sounds like a tough landlady.”

  “She’s nice, though, when you follow the rules.” I sigh. “Well, I didn’t so I’ll have to sleep out here, I guess.”

  I lie down on the porch, suddenly feeling light-headed. “That’s what I get for drinking with Dash Siegel.”

  Dash frowns. “Isn’t there someone else who can let you in?”

  I place an arm over my forehead. “Nope. My roommate decided to spend the night somewhere else and currently, we’re the only two boarders.”

  “Probably because of her rules.” “Probably.”

  “Isn’t there someone you can call? Surely, someone has a couch.”

  “I don’t have a lot of friends, remember?” “It seems like you don’t have any.”

  I pout at him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

  He doesn’t respond to my sarcastic remark, and instead disappears around the corner of the house. He comes back, sits on the porch steps, and takes off one shoe.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, sitting up.

  He takes off his other shoe without acknowledging my question.

  I swallow. He’s undressing?

  “Wait.” I raise a hand, leaning on the other one to keep my balance. “We’re not going to do it here on the porch, are we?”

  He stands up. “Hurry up and take off your shoes. We’re going to climb that tree.”

  My eyes grow wide. We’re going to do it up a tree? Is that even possible?

  “Won’t that be too rough?”

  Dash looks at me. “Climbing a tree? Yes, it can be rough.

  But you’ll manage. Come on.” I blink, still confused.

  “We’re going to climb a tree to get into the second floor,” Dash explains. “I see a window open.”

  “Oh.”

  I take off my shoes and follow him, looking up at the open window with the yellow curtains.

  I tilt my head. “Is that the window to my room?” “You tell me.”

  “Wait. Are you suggesting I go in through there?” I point to it.

  “I’m saying you can.”

  “But if Mrs. Cook finds out I got in through the window–”

  “Just get out again before she finds out,” Dash holds out his hand to me. “Do you want to sleep in a bed or not?”

  “I do, but–” I swallow the lump in my throat as I look at the window again.

  “Come on.”

  He grabs my hand, pulling me along until he’s right under the tree beside the house. Then he lets my hand go and falls to his knees on the ground.

  “Stand on my shoulders.” “What?”

  “Stand on my shoulders so you can climb the tree; then get on the branch that leads to the window.”

  I step back, shaking my head when I see how high and crooked the branch is. “No way. I don’t think I can do that even if I’m sober.”

  “But you’re not,” Dash reminds. “So you’re going to do something brave, foolish, and fun.”

  Well, I have to admit there’s something exciting about sneaking into a bedroom, even if it is your own bedroom. And I do want to sleep in a bed.

  I place a hand on Dash’s shoulder then my foot. “You better not look up my skirt,” I warn.

  “You better not fall on top of me.”

  I place my other foot on his other shoulder then place my hands on his head as I try to steady myself.

  And fail. After a few seconds, I slip, letting out a scream as I fall into Dash’s arms.

  “Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips. “You don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood.”

  No, I don’t. “Sorry.”

  “Let’s try this again.”

  Once again, I place my hands and feet on his shoulders. This time, I manage to keep my balance, leaning on the tree as Dash stands up slowly, at least for the first two minutes. As soon as Dash is upright, he wobbles and I do, too, my feet sliding off. I let out a scream as I wrap my arms around Dash’s head and neck, my legs hooked over his shoulders.

  “Janine, I can’t see.”

  In the next instant, we both fall to the ground, me on the grass with my legs sprawled and Dash between them.

  Quickly, I sit up, closing my knees. “You said you wouldn’t look.”

  “You said you wouldn’t fall.”

  “Who’s there?” I hear Mrs. Cook’s voice along with a window opening, lights coming on the first floor.

  Shit.

  I can’t seem to move but thankfully, Dash springs into action, pulling me off the grass and against him as he hides behind the tree, his hand over my mouth.

  “Did you hear something, Henry?” Mrs. Cook asks. “No,” I hear Mr. Cook reply.

  “You’re deaf as a doornail. I heard something.”

  “Yeah, you heard something when there was nothing.

  Better deaf than crazy, woman.”

  Thank goodness Dash has his hand over my mouth, or I would have laughed.

  “It better not be those damned cats again.”

  The window
shuts and the lights go off moments later. As soon as Dash lifts his hand, I grab my stomach, giggling.

  “God, that was close.”

  “Shall we try again?” Dash suggests.

  “Yes,” I answer. “Without the falling this time.” “You’re the one who fell.”

  This time, I manage not to fall. Reaching the branch, I pull myself on it, wincing as I scrape a knee.

  “Shit. I should have worn pants.” “You’re saying that now?”

  Dash pulls himself up on the branch, its leaves rustling. “Well, I can’t say I don’t like the view.”

  How am I supposed to cross the branch with him staring at my panties?

  “Give me your backpack. I’ll hand it to you when you’re in your room.”

  I do that, making my way across the branch. It dips beneath my weight, leaves shaking in the breeze, and I feel terrified, but somehow, I make it through, opening the window fully and tumbling inside. Dash gets on the branch, handing me my bag.

  “See,” he says. “Your first attempt to breaking into your room is a success.”

  “Only because of you,” I tell him, setting my bag down on the floor.

  If not for him, I would have frozen to death on the porch.

  “Well, it was partly my fault you missed your curfew.” He grins like he’s proud of that. “Partly.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You mean entirely.”

  He chuckles softly. “So I guess this is goodbye.” Goodbye?

  Right. He’s signing up for the Marines so I’ll likely never see him again.

  “Wait,” I tell him just as he starts to move back. “Don’t leave yet.”

  I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not like this.

  He stops, holding my gaze. “You know what will happen if I come in there, right?”

  I nod, licking my lips. I know it all too well. My body is already buzzing in anticipation, my heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid it might jump right out of my ribs, and my hands are shaking and sweaty. My mind, on the other hand, is screaming against the idea. I barely know Dash. He’s leaving, and I don’t do one-night stands. I’ve never even had sex before! Second base is the farthest I’ve gone.