Very Bad Things

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  And with that, any seriousness that the moment had evaporated, and the mood went back to being playful.

  “SO, THAT’S WHY I refuse to serve any one person more than eight shots of tequila!” Max grinned as he finished his story. Janie and Lyla wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes before they sipped their pink drinks again.

  “And they really got that tattoo there and blamed you?!” Lyla asked through her hysterics. Max nodded, and Janie watched as he scrubbed his hand over his perpetual five o’clock shadow.

  “My stomach actually hurts from laughing so hard!” Janie said, running her hands over her flat belly.

  Lyla raised a brow at Max as she noticed the desire flare in his eyes when he watched her friend. He focused a trained gaze on Janie’s hands.

  “All right, I have to pee. I’ll be right back,” Janie announced to everyone and no one. She slid off her bar stool and headed for the bathroom. Max watched her slim hips sway as she walked away, his eyes slowly drifting lower…

  “Max! I totally saw that,” Lyla said, her voice husky, as soon as Janie was out of earshot.

  “What exactly do you think you saw?” Max slowly shifted his green eyes from Janie’s retreating form to a very-interested Lyla.

  “You were checking out Janie. I knew it! I knew you were into her. Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “Lyla, for someone who thinks she knows everything, sometimes…you don’t have a clue.” Max’s smile and tone were laid back, just like the man himself, but his self-control was beginning to fray. The rag he was using to wipe down the bar was held tightly in his hand. Looking down as he scrubbed the same spot over and over, he wondered if it was worth risking his friendship with Janie for just one night. His gaze slowly lifted from the bar as Janie strutted back to her seat. It would be one smokin’ night, his libido shouted.

  Janie’s face was pinched with disgust as she hopped back up on the stool. “Danny, you may want to get someone into the bathroom. Uh, some poor girl had too much to drink…”

  “Great…” Danny sighed and excused himself to deal with the mess. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d had to handle a messy bathroom, but the job never got more pleasant.

  Janie felt bad about anyone having to face the shitstorm she had just seen, but it had to be done. “So….um…what were we talking about before nature called?”

  “Alcohol, tattoos, and sex with friends,” Lyla responded with purpose, clearly happy with the seed she had planted. Max’s nostrils flared slightly as he sent Lyla an evil stare, his knuckles whitening over the rag he was using to wipe the bar top…again. Her gaze then settled on her best friend. She knew exactly what was going on in that pretty little head of Janie’s just by the way she was trying to sneak a look Max. If there was ever a kitten-to-a-bowl-of-cream metaphor to be used, now was the time.

  JANIE COULD SENSE a shift in the mood between Lyla and Max when she came back from the bathroom, but she tried to ignore it. She eyed Max through her long lashes and lifted her glass. God, the man was hot; set-your-panties-on-fire hot. His wavy, dark-blond hair hung slightly too long, but called out for Janie to run her fingers through it. His eyes were the most incredible shade of green, reminding her of fresh-cut grass in spring. But his body, his body could—and did—make grown women swoon, Janie included.

  She trained her stare on his broad chest—so much thick muscle and sinew, stretched under his thin, black, cotton T-shirt. She watched intently as he turned around to grab a bottle from the shelf behind him, his jeans low on his lean hips, sculpting his perfect ass in a way that made Janie jealous of the piece of denim. In fact, his hard, well-defined form had been the topic of several Thursday-night conversations. Oftentimes, Max was a participant in those talks, too.

  “What do you want me to tell you?” He would say with an arched brow, “I want to stay in shape…gotta look good for the ladies.”

  “Can you get any cockier?” Janie had asked one night, to which Max had chuckled in his manly way,

  “Speaking of cock…” Everyone had started laughing uncontrollably. That was the night that Janie had fallen totally and completely in lust with Max.

  Yep, she wanted that man. He was always friendly, and even flirty, but she never took it seriously. The man had women throwing themselves at him; she witnessed it every Thursday night. Sure, Lyla said that Max treated Janie differently than he did other women, but she couldn’t see it. She knew she wasn’t in his league. Hell, they didn’t even play the same sport. She was happy just being friends with Max. Okay, maybe not happy…but she would rather be friends than nothing at all.

  As soon as Lyla had spoken the words “sex with friends,” Janie’s eyes had found Max. A shiver ran up her spine when his emerald eyes bore into hers. She wanted to touch him—it felt almost painful not to—but she’d resisted the urge by lifting her glass to her lips while keeping her eyes fixed on his. This was Max, her friend. Of course she could touch him; she had touched him hundreds of times before, but with these thoughts running rampant through her mind, she feared that if she so much as brushed the skin on his hand right now, she would burn to ashes.

  Sex with friends—God, she needed to get laid. Or to quote Lyla, she needed “a good fuck.”

  Janie subtly brought her cool hands up to her warm cheeks, hoping no one could see the flush that was forming from her thoughts. The desire to feel needed and loved kept leading her to the wrong guys, but she kept trying to find her own “Happily Ever After” anyway. As unrealistic as she knew it may be, she couldn’t let go of her childhood fantasies, the ones where she dreamed that someday, she would find someone who would make her feel whole. Complete. Cherished. Loved. What she actually found, though, ran the gamut between the boring and bland to the douchey, cheating assholes.

  Plus, her sex life always bordered on “why bother?” She’d had enough men tell her that she was frigid and cold in bed to realize they were probably right. She could accept boring, unfulfilling sex, if only it came with an honest, loving man.

  She watched Max pour a beer with his perfectly sculpted forearms and slide it to the customer in front of him. What she would do for Max…God, what wouldn’t she do for Max?

  Her mouth suddenly dry, she picked up her glass and let the sweet liquid hit her lips.

  “So, Max…what time do you get off tonight?” Lyla asked as Janie choked on her drink.

  With all eyes on her—and her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, or lust—she shrugged. “What? You asked what time he gets off…that’s funny! Come on, Ly...that’s funny.” Lyla smirked.

  “I don’t know when, or if, he will be ‘getting off’ tonight, but he gets off work right now,” Danny said, with a wink to Janie and a squeeze to Max’s shoulder. Max gave Danny a questioning, are-you-sure look, and Danny nodded.

  “Well, then, I guess I’m done for the night,” Max said, his gaze landing on Janie.

  Janie looked at Lyla, eyes big as saucers, “Um…”

  “I’m kind of exhausted,” Lyla said, stretching, “I think I’m gonna head out. I need to be up early tomorrow. Max, would you mind taking Janie home? You know where she lives, right?” Janie’s jaw dropped, Lyla knew the answer to that question before she asked it; Max had been to Janie’s apartment several times for Sunday dinner.

  Max nodded, “My pleasure.”

  A jolt of electricity surged through his body as he made his way out from behind the bar.

  Janie’s body was still, but her heart was racing.

  Lyla tapped her on the shoulder, “Janie?”

  “Ly, I’ll come with you, no worries.”

  Max weaved his arm around Janie’s waist though, pulling her away from Lyla, “Sex with friends, Janie,” he whispered into her ear, a question in his voice.

  Exhaling what felt like all of the air in her body, she looked into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. “Max…I don’t know…I mean—”

  “Let me take you home tonight, Janie. I’ve been thinking about you fo
r months. Don’t tell me it’s one-sided.” His confident grin told her that he knew the attraction went both ways.

  Between the warmth of his breath and his woodsy, clean smell, Janie had goose bumps running down her arms. Her focus keened on Max while addressing Lyla.

  “Ly, I’ll…um…”

  “Talk to me tomorrow.” Lyla slung her purse over her shoulder, “Hey, Max, be a kind man and a good boy,” she warned.

  Something sexy quickly passed over Max’s handsome face before he smiled his patented lazy grin. “I promise to be a kind man.” He winked and led Janie out the door.

  “By the way,” he said in her ear, “the Jeep had a flat tire, so I had to drive my other car.”

  Excitement rushed through Janie’s body at the impending ride…and she wasn’t just thinking about Max’s Ferrari.

  SCANNING THE BAR, Lyla watched as people began to pair off and leave together. Once Janie and Max had left, she’d sat back down and ordered another drink. She glanced toward the corner table, where she had seen the guy she wanted desperately to take home herself earlier in the evening. She had spotted him at the bar on other nights but never talked to him. They had shared some pretty steamy looks, too, though he had never approached her. Normally she wouldn’t play so coy, but there was something about him that kept her from making the first move. She could tell he’d be dangerous for her. Not menacing or scary, but something worse…

  She tried to shake his shadowed face from her mind. Her body reacted every time she saw him, and now even when she just thought of him. See? Dangerous. She was never lacking in male companionship, as Danny so thoughtfully pointed out earlier that night, and she snorted to herself. Something about her mystery man was different; he was the kind of guy she would write about in her novels - tall, dark, brooding, and all alpha male. She didn’t know how she knew this without ever speaking a single word to him—she just did. But his chair sat empty, so what did it matter?

  She shrugged and took another sip of her drink, then snickered to herself as her thoughts slid back to Janie and Max. “All I had to do was light the match. Here’s to the fire.” Lyla raised her glass to toast her good deed and took a deep pull of the sweet concoction.

  “Don’t stand too close to the fire until you’re ready to feel the burn.” A gravelly voice whispered the words in her ear, from behind, and sent tingles down her spine.

  “What?” The startled response that eked out of her mouth was almost unrecognizable.

  A sexy chuckle escaped the throat of the man whose warmth was radiating into Lyla’s skin. She attempted to turn around, curious to see the face that was attached to that voice, but a large hand at the base of her neck stayed her movement. As his thumb gently stroked her neck a whisker-roughened cheek murmured in her ear, “No reason to turn around, sweetheart. You know who I am. Everything else you need to know you can feel pulsing through your body right now. Enjoy your drink. I’ll see you soon.”

  The cool air seeped into her body as the warmth of his hand left her skin. By the time Lyla worked up the courage to turn around, all she got was a glimpse of a firm ass covered in perfectly worn jeans, a tight, white T-shirt that hugged a broad back, and inky-black hair that hung just below the neck of said T-shirt.

  “What the fuck just happened? Who the hell was that?” Lyla gasped as Ashley, the bartender who’d stepped in for Max, just smiled. “Ashley, Goddamn it! Seriously, did you see him?”

  Ashley looked at her with a grin, “That’s Max’s friend. You’ve probably seen him here before.” She put a glass of ice water in front of Lyla, gestured to her cheeks, and gave a devilish smile, “You look like you could use this.”

  “SO, YOUR PLACE or mine?” Janie asked nervously as they left the parking lot. The butterflies in her stomach were starting a revolution as she took in the sexy profile of the man sitting to her left, with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh. Was she really doing this? Not to mention, doing it with Max DeLucca?

  Removing his hand from her leg, Max placed both hands on the steering wheel of his black Ferrari Spider. Janie held in the whimper that threatened to escape from the loss of his touch.

  Max pulled over to the side of the road, and she felt the butterflies once again trying to take flight. Why was he stopping? Had he changed his mind?

  “Janie,” he said, his voice strong but calm. “Janie, look at me. I need to see your eyes.” She looked into his grassy-green orbs. Callused fingers stroked her jaw, sending shivers through her body, “I won’t hurt you. Your body is safe with me. Do you understand?”

  She wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded silently.

  The innocent, doe-eyed look on her face brought out his every possessive instinct. “Words, Janie, I need words,” Max demanded.

  “I think I understand, Max.” She couldn’t help the breathless tone in her voice, “But what is this about?”

  He inhaled, holding the air in his lungs for an extra second before letting it go, his eyes smoldering while his body still held the relaxed pose that had become so familiar to her. She could hear her own heart beating, and she could also hear it stop when the next statement left Max’s lips.

  “I intend to fuck you tonight, Janie. I intend to fuck you very well. I am going to make you come in every way imaginable; with my fingers, my tongue, and my cock. I am going to do things to you that you and Lyla have only teased about at Danny’s, things that you have fantasized about, and things that have never even crossed your mind. You will have a say in whether or not we stop, but Janie, you will not have a say on whether it is your place or mine. Got it?”

  She stared at Max and her mouth formed an O. She was thoroughly and truly speechless. So she nodded again.

  “Words, Janie. I need words.”

  “Okay.” Her heartbeat started speeding up again, as Max’s car did the same.

  MAX GRINNED AS he drove them toward her place. How is it possible that he finally had Janie Silver in his car? Fuck.

  One word…Lyla. He was going to have to send her those raspberry truffles that she liked so much.

  Keeping both hands on the wheel proved to be more difficult than he ever imagined. Just a few more minutes and he would finally have Janie, his Janie, alone in her house, on her bed.

  His house or hers? Max laughed to himself. What a ridiculous question. Didn’t she realize the answer had to be the place that was the closest to wherever they were? He was barely hanging on as it was. He had to be practically superhuman to have restrained himself from taking her in his car when they had pulled over for that quick chat. He’d wanted to run his hands through her long hair, practically since the first Thursday night that she and Lyla had walked into Danny’s on Main. He’d been dying to know if her brown-and-copper cascades would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his fingers.

  For months he had been waiting for the right time. Watching her with the last loser had caused an unfamiliar pang of possessiveness to grip his gut and squeeze it like a vice. Hearing about the ten years of douche bags prior was enough to make him insane. Every workout with the heavy bag was him beating the shit out of all the faceless men who had hurt Janie in the past. Every MMA session had his partners feeling the pain that he wanted to inflict on the cheating sons of bitches that made Janie think she was unworthy of being worshipped. He got through each punishing run telling himself that one day he would be the man to teach her what the John Mayer song, “Your Body is a Wonderland” really meant. She was the one woman who made him wish he could have a relationship. If he still possessed his heart, he would give it to her. That’s why he had stayed away from her. Until tonight.

  Tonight he finally lost his power to control the lust he felt toward her, and now he had her. His woman…No, he thought, just her body. That’s all I want. No emotions, no entanglements…

  He ran his hand slowly up Janie’s jean-clad thigh and breathed in deep.

  “Fuck,” he sighed out loud. He was in trouble.

  LYLA NURSED THE last of
her drink and tried to push the mystery man with his whisky-laced voice and his leathery, cedar scent out of her mind, when Danny came back to the bar to regale her with disgusting stories of bathroom horror. Laughing hysterically, she dipped her head, covered her eyes, and begged him to stop the torture.

  “Ew! Stop! You’re gonna make me pee myself,” she squealed, “Then your poor staff is going to have another mess to deal with. Plus, I would never be able to show my face in here again!”

  Danny’s expression went from relaxed to tense in a blink. “Oh, honey, don’t ever say that. You and Janie are like family now. Go ahead and pee on the floor! I won’t care. In fact, after we’re all done laughing at you, we’ll bronze the spot!”

  Lyla knew that Danny and his wife, Julie, had tried for years to have children, but to no avail. They treated their employees like family, and she and Janie, in the last few, short months, had become like surrogate daughters to the couple.

  “Thanks, Danny. You know that means the world to me…especially since I don’t really…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

  “Yeah, and you have A-D-D when it comes to men.” He effectively changed the subject without any sense of how he got from point A to point B.

  She lifted her eyebrows, ready with a sassy comeback, but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. He was right; Lyla could practically choose her sexual partner any night of the week. But sex is where she drew her line, she didn’t do commitment, Hell, she didn’t even do sleepovers. She let them use her body, and she used theirs right back. Two consenting adults—perfect.

  “I don’t need anyone but Janie…and you guys, of course.” She smiled sheepishly. The truth was; the thought of getting close to any one man made her physically ill. The men she had trusted in her past had not just let her down but had nearly killed her. She was no longer a full person, just a bunch of broken pieces held together with glue and hope. She didn’t want or need a man in her life. She could take care of herself. Lyla had her own money, so financial security would never be a problem for her, and she certainly didn’t want some guy thinking she was going to support his ass. She needed a man, not a boy, anyway; someone who didn’t need constant ego stroking, who knew how to handle her body.