I Love Bad Boys Read online

  Asia pushed back from the table. “I’ll get it.”

  “Wait.” Becky hustled after Asia, and Erica fell into a hurried trot behind her. En masse, in parade fashion, they quick-stepped it to the door. Asia turned the doorknob just as Becky reached her.

  Provocative as the original sin, George lounged in the door frame with a devil’s smile. His long-lashed, black eyes were glittering with intent.

  At the sight of him, Becky drew up short. Erica plowed into her. They both knocked into Asia.

  “Hey, easy now.” George, somewhat startled by the unexpected greeting, reached out and kept them all three from toppling. He ended up with his arms full of females—and to Becky’s eye, he didn’t seem to mind in the least.

  Chapter Three

  George chuckled as the women began righting themselves. He didn’t exactly hurry to get them out of his arms, but then, hey, he liked holding women. “Helluva greeting, ladies. Thanks.”

  Erica, the black-haired witch, managed to send her elbow into his middle before pulling away. George grunted, but refused to give her the satisfaction of rubbing at it.

  Asia gave him a chiding look and muttered in all seriousness, “Behave.”

  Becky just stared up at him with that adorable look of innocent shock that seemed to melt his heart, his common sense, and his touted self-control. She didn’t move away, and he damn sure wasn’t going to insist. They stared at each other, and finally she blinked her way into speech. “George. What are you doing here?”

  Her blond curls were mussed—a typical state for Becky, he was beginning to realize—and he went about smoothing them back into place. As badly as he wanted her naked and under him, he enjoyed simply touching her, too.

  He ignored Erica, and only winked at Asia to reassure her, then said to Becky, “You forgot your change.”

  “My change?”

  “From your…purchases?” George wasn’t sure if she’d told her two coconspirators about the bondage stuff yet, so he didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag. All in all, it was a weak-ass excuse to be calling on her now, but it was all he could come up with.

  Erica rolled her green eyes and drawled, “He means the cuffs and the blindfold, Becky.”

  Predictably enough, Becky gasped, embarrassed by the mere mention of the items.

  George wanted to smack Erica, but Asia saved him the trouble. She shouldered the other woman and frowned fiercely. Erica gave her a “what?” look that wasn’t the least convincing.

  George decided to continue ignoring that one. “Remember, I paid with your money. You had change coming.” He pulled out the bills and coins and put them into Becky’s hand.

  She stared at the money. “Thanks.”

  Asia shoved her way between them. She caught George’s arm and pulled him through the doorway, then pushed the door shut. “We were just having coffee, George. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Yeah.” Erica grinned. “Join us. Becky even made cookies.”

  George eyed Becky in the frilly little apron, and all sorts of fetish images flooded through his already taxed brain. Hell, it was only an apron, and if he remembered right, his grandmother used to wear one.

  But damn, it sure looked different on Becky than it had on Gram.

  Sandwiched between Asia and Erica, he allowed them to drag him to the kitchen. They seemed awfully eager to keep him around, but then, it had been Asia’s idea, according to Cameron, that he should be the man to hook up with Becky.

  He owed her big-time, he decided, then he noticed how the apron tied snug at Becky’s waist emphasized the flare of her hips. Usually her clothes were concealing. He cleared his throat and sought casual conversation.

  “You bake, Becky?” Somehow, that fit. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out she knit and canned, too.

  “They’re just chocolate chip cookies,” she mumbled. “No big deal.”

  “My favorite.” Along the way to the kitchen, George took in the sight of her apartment. It was small, a little crowded with knickknacks and photos. Her sofa was floral, her curtains frilly, everything spotlessly clean. It was so like Becky that he liked it instantly. Her home felt warm and cozy and comfortable.

  It felt like a…home.

  They stepped into the small kitchen and George held out a chair for Asia, who was charmed, then Erica, who was sardonic.

  Becky bustled about, looking like a very sexy Martha Stewart clone, getting out another cup and saucer, arranging the cookies on an ornate plate—studiously avoiding eye contact with him. George decided to let her get away with that for now. Once he had her alone, he’d show her there was no reason to be shy with him.

  “Asia,” he asked, again seeking mundane conversation to ease the tension, “how’s Cameron doing?”

  “He’s great.”

  “He’s exhausted,” Erica corrected. “Wedding plans and all that, you know.”

  George set his teeth and smiled at Asia. “Things moving right along?”

  “A few glitches. Nothing major.” She snatched up a cookie as soon as Becky put the plate on the table. “That’s typical of every wedding, I suppose.”

  Erica snorted. “Every marriage, too.”

  “Someday,” Asia told her, “some guy is going to make you eat those words.”

  “Right. Don’t hold your breath.”

  George picked up a cookie, handed it to Erica, and said, “Here. Something useful for your mouth.”

  She grinned shamelessly. “Honey, my mouth can be used for a lot of things more interesting than eating…cookies.”

  She’d used just the right amount of hesitation so George couldn’t miss her meaning. He raised a brow. “At the kitchen table?”

  “Why not?” She popped the cookie in her mouth and eyed him up and down. “You a prude?”

  Despite himself, George laughed. “Okay, let me rephrase that—at the kitchen table with two women present?”

  Erica held up her hands. “I concede. A woman has to draw the line somewhere.”

  “Indeed.” George glanced up and saw that Becky was disgruntled by the sexual banter. Damn, he hoped she didn’t think he was flirting with Erica.

  He had been, he supposed, but not out of interest. He’d merely felt compelled to hold his own against her, sort of a male against female thing. Dumb.

  He wondered how Becky could stay such close friends with Erica. Their personalities were so different. He took a bite of cookie, and groaned in appreciation. “Damn, Becky, that’s good. You even put walnuts in them.”

  Becky stopped dumping sugar in her coffee and gave him a stony stare. “Thank you. I’m so glad you like them.”

  Her words sounded anything but pleased. Was she jealous? Normally that would annoy the hell out of him, because grasping women drove him nuts. But this time George found himself fighting a grin. He kind of liked the idea of Becky being jealous. After putting him off for two years, she deserved it.

  Becky sat opposite him at the small table, with Asia and Erica at his sides. He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but the other women were watching him like they expected him to sprout horns at any moment.

  Moving slowly so they wouldn’t notice, George stretched out his legs. His feet bumped Becky’s. Before she could withdraw, he caged her legs with his own. Beneath the table their knees touched, his outside hers. He watched her over his coffee cup and saw her go still, then draw in a deep breath. Her gaze lifted and locked with his.

  For long moments, they stared at each other.

  Erica chuckled. “You two are embarrassing me. I think it’s time Asia and I hit the road.”

  Asia agreed, but Becky jumped to her feet. “No. I mean, you haven’t finished your coffee.”

  “Caffeine keeps me awake.” Erica drew her close and hugged her, then said in a stage whisper that the birds in the trees outside could hear, “If we don’t go now, George is liable to self-combust. The man is all but salivating and it isn’t over the cookies, no matter what he tells you.”

>   George continued to watch Becky when he replied to Erica. “How astute of you.”

  Erica flapped her hand at him in dismissal. “Nah. Men are just so easy to read.”

  “More infamous words,” Asia complained. She grabbed Erica and towed her away. “Bye, Becky. Behave. And call me later.”

  “Call us both! But do not behave.”

  Seconds later, George heard the front door close with a quiet click. He set his coffee aside and came to his feet. Becky backed up.

  He rounded the table.

  She bumped into the counter.

  “Are you afraid of me?” He wasn’t worried about it, because he’d come to the conclusion that Becky’s decision to incorporate a little bondage into her lovemaking was based on sheer curiosity and daring. No way did she have enough sexual experience to be bored and looking for a new kick. Under the circumstances, he expected her to be a bit nervous. Beyond being a real turn-on, it was sort of endearing.

  She flattened her hands on the counter at either side of her hips, bracing herself. Standing there in the frilly apron, eyes wide, lips parted, she made a very tempting picture. “No, I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Good.” George advanced on her until his legs were on either side of hers, his cock pushed up snug against her soft belly, and his hands over her hands on the counter, effectively holding her captive.

  Damn, he liked this game. He liked it a lot.

  He stared at Becky’s mouth. “No matter what we do,” he told her, thinking of how she might feel when he had her tightly bound on the bed, legs open, unable to move, “no matter what I say, you don’t ever have to fear me. All right?”

  Becky frowned.

  “Believe me, Becky.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, all right.”

  He let out his breath in relief. “I need another kiss.”

  “All right.” She closed her eyes, turned her face up, and pursed her lips.

  Grinning, George smoothed a finger over that delectable mouth. Patience, he told himself. She might be ready to try new things, kinky things, but she lacked any real experience. It was up to him, regardless of his urgency, to guide her gently.

  The idea of tutoring her gave him another rush. “I want to taste you, babe. I want you to suck on my tongue again.”

  Her eyes popped open and she blinked. “You do?”

  “Mmmm. Becky, open your mouth for me.”

  Her lips parted the tiniest bit, more out of surprise than because of his instruction, but it was enough. George groaned and took her mouth.

  The second he tasted her, his intentions regarding gentle guidance went straight out the window. He licked his way inside, tasting her deeply, eating at her mouth, pushing her lips farther apart with a hunger that quickly shot out of control.

  After a small, shocked sound, Becky struggled to free her hands. Frustrated, George released her and lifted his head, ready to apologize.

  She launched herself at him.

  Her hands were frantic on his chest and shoulders, his neck, his face. She seemed to enjoy touching him, and she definitely enjoyed kissing him. Her mouth landed on his with inept exuberance until George helped by turning his head and adjusting the fit. Becky made a hungry sound and gave him her tongue.

  Now, without their coats between them, he could feel her nipples stiffened against his chest. He wedged a hand between their bodies and cuddled her lush breast in his palm.

  They both groaned in raw appreciation. Becky was full and firm and so soft, her heartbeat galloping madly. He was pretty much in the zone of no return when he stroked his other hand down her narrow back and gripped her rounded behind. He lifted her into his groin and pressed against her in a tantalizing rhythm that mimicked sex but wasn’t nearly as satisfying. She felt good, smelled good, tasted good.

  Against her mouth, he whispered, “God, Becky, you are so beautiful.”

  And like a wet cat, Becky screeched and thrust him away.

  Dumbfounded, all his wits now gathered below his belt, George stared at her and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. One minute she’d been attacking him, and the next she acted like she’d been attacked.

  Even now, she appeared panicked, while George simply struggled to catch his breath. They were still pressed tightly together, his cock still throbbed, and his body still thought sex was the best solution.

  Becky disabused him of that notion when she flattened her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. He regretted her change of heart, but no way in hell was he going to let her put any major distance between them. Not yet. Not until he figured out what was wrong.

  He caught her shoulders and held her still. “Becky?”

  She turned her face away, her voice trembling, her eyes closed. “Let me go.”

  He hesitated, unsure about what to do. “All right. But can you tell me why?”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “I…I’m not ready yet.”

  What was the big deal about getting ready? He tried to sound reasonable. “Ready for what?”

  “For…whatever you were trying to do.”

  “What exactly do you think I was trying to do?”

  “I don’t know!” She glared up at him, defiant and shaken. “You were grabbing my…my…”

  “Your ass?” His voice dropped and he said with great and inadequate sincerity, “Becky, honey, you have a fantastic ass. A premier ass. A world-class ass.”

  She appeared startled, then laughed and covered her face with her hands. George relaxed a bit; that was more like it.

  Gently, he eased her against him and began rubbing her back, not in a sexual way, but in a soothing way. She was trembling—and still snickering. His chest felt tight with an emotion that definitely wasn’t sexual in nature.

  He kissed her temple. “Becky? If I promise not to do any more ass grabbing, can I kiss you again?”

  Her words were muffled against his chest. “That…that wasn’t the problem.”

  Hmmm. Not exactly the answer he’d expected, but at least now she wasn’t pushing him away. In fact, she leaned on him in a way he chose to call trusting. What a mix she was, buying handcuffs, going wild when he kissed her, then freaking out for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.

  Despite his current frustrated state, figuring her out would be a treat.

  “How about we sit down and finish our coffee and cookies?”

  Her forehead dropped to his sternum. “You don’t mind?”

  Teasing her had worked, so he tried it again. In a low sexy rumble, George said, “You’ve got great cookies, too, Becky.”

  She actually giggled, then groaned. “I’m embarrassed again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I acted like an idiot.”

  “Oh, I dunno.” He nuzzled against her hair, breathing in her soft, baby-fine scent, loving the feel of her silky curls. “If some guy grabbed my ass like that, I’d probably act the same way.”

  She slugged him, and now she shook with laughter. George smiled, too. It amazed him, but despite a raging hard-on that by all accounts wouldn’t be appeased any time soon, he was actually enjoying himself.

  He kissed her hair again and moments later felt her shoulders stiffening, felt her bracing herself. Becky was shy, but she wasn’t a coward. When she raised her face, he saw the determination in her gaze. “I didn’t know you were so funny, George.”

  Cautiously, because he didn’t want her to go hiding against his chest again, he said, “I didn’t know you were into bondage. I suppose there’s a lot we can learn about each other.”

  She didn’t look away, but she did bite her lip.

  “C’mere, Becky.” George led her to her chair and seated her. Startled amazement crossed her face when he knelt down in front of her, but he wanted to see her eye to eye, to read her reactions and make sure she understood. “I’m dying to make love to you. Don’t ever doubt that. But I’m not a pig. If you want to wait a bit, it doesn’t have to be tomorrow. We can just…I don’t know
, go out if you want.”

  Amazement turned to disbelief.

  George frowned at her. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand.

  “And as for all this bondage stuff, hey, it’s fine by me, but only if you’re into it, okay?” Her hair had gotten tangled by his hands when they’d kissed and now he smoothed it, tucking it behind her ears. He adored her hair and couldn’t wait to feel those soft curls drifting over his chest, maybe down his abdomen when they made love….

  “I…I’m new to this.”

  Her admission brought him out of his sensual revelry. “I figured that out.” How new was what he really wanted to know. But then he assumed he’d find out soon enough.

  “I want it to be tomorrow, I really do.”

  Thank God. “Okay, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  “It is. It’s just that I want everything to be…right.” She looked down at her hands, then back up. “And I want…I want the bondage stuff. I want to use the handcuffs and…the blindfold. Okay?”

  It was a wonder he didn’t come in his pants. As it was, George had to take two deep breaths, close his eyes, and count to ten. And still he hurt.

  “All right.” It sounded like he was strangling.

  Becky smiled and touched his jaw. “You’re pretty terrific, George, you know that?”

  At the moment, he felt pretty damn terrific, like friggin’ Superman, with superhuman patience. Only a real hero could take this kind of temptation and still survive. The inquisition could have made use of little Becky Harte.

  “Cookies.” He straightened, grimaced at the discomfort from a straining boner, and moved to his seat. “I’m going to eat my cookies, drink my coffee, then go home before I insist on kissing you again.” He raised his cup to her in a salute. “You, babe, are pure fire.”

  Becky looked down at her hands folded on the tabletop. “But I’m not.” And then, in a whisper so low he could barely hear her, “I’m not beautiful either.”

  George stared at her in surprise. So that’s what had bothered her—a compliment. Judging by the seriousness of her expression, she really believed what she said. She also looked more vulnerable than any woman should ever look.