Bad Boy's Baby (48 page)

“Why?”

“Well…” I grinned, grateful for the conversation change. “She’s a lesbian.”

“That is a relief.”

“Should I be concerned?”

Shay’s playful tone amused me more than her robe slipping over her shoulders. “No, I’ve been very satisfied lately.”

“Just satisfied?”

She hummed. “As much as can be expected.”

“I’ll have to work harder. No one’s ever accused me of being
adequate
.”

Shay didn’t want to play. She tucked a falling curl behind her ear. I wished she let me do it for her. A brush to her cheek tempted me more than night between the sheets. Every second she allowed me to touch her cocoa skin was a gift, a blessing second only to her smile.

So why did her smile fade?

“You came back early,” I said. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. I didn’t believe her. I took her hand.

She let me hold it.

I’d explode just imagining her lithe, gentle fingers pumping my cock.

“It was a rough night,” she said. “My friends…weren’t acting like my friends.”

“What’d they do?”

“Asked for money.” Her eyes rose to mine, honest and desperate. “And I would have helped, I would have. But…I don’t have the trust. And they got mad...”

Shay was as lovely on the inside as out. She’d spend her last cent trying to make sure everyone was happy. She’d run errands, copy homework, and give money because she mistook gratitude for love. And her asshole friends seemed the type to exploit it.

I tugged her close, surprised when she rested her head on my shoulder. “You don’t owe them anything, baby.”

“But I will help them.”

“I know.”

“I just hoped tonight would let me clear my mind. I needed…to think.”

And I needed to kiss her. Maybe that was her problem. Too much thinking, not enough kissing, touching, and fucking.

“They didn’t even try to help with Professor Sweeten. They asked how I pissed her off and then…bam. And Heaven, I swear, she better not come near me again. Not unless she’s on her knees and I’m on my way out of church.”

“Sounds like a rough night.”

“Why are you the only one who understands?” She swallowed. “Why are you the only one who even
tries
to understand?”

“Because I know what it’s like to have everything but still lose the one you want.”

Shay quieted. I thought I blew it. It sounded romantic in my head, but what the hell did I know? There was still too much shrapnel, swelling, and half of the desert rattling around my brain for me to make sense of most things.

I should have spelled it out for her. Laid it all out and waited for the rejection.

But I always did like torturing myself. Kicking my own ass meant I was getting stronger. Worked in the weight room, on the battlefield, and in the bedroom.

I didn’t have to say a damn thing. Shay reached for me, her delicate fingers stroking over my cheek. She leaned in, gentle, and kissed me.

Goddamn, those lips. With a single nibble to my bottom lip, Shay might have asked me to burn down the damn estate, and I’d have agreed with the flick of my tongue against hers. My cock throbbed for her. I shifted in my jeans, but that gave it room to get harder.

I wanted this fucking woman.

I wanted everything about her. The pouty lips. Those hidden curves under the robe. Her body. Her heat.

Her dreams. Her secrets. Her every vulnerable thought.

And, in return? I’d be the one there for her. Her douche-bag friends or absent father would never hurt her again. I’d comfort her. Hold her. Kiss her.

Until I shipped back out.

Holy Christ.

I spent two months in the hospital and six in therapy. Every damned second of my recovery was spent forcing myself to take the next step, add the next weight, and meet the next challenge.

I never had a reason to stay that could compete with my desire to go.

Until her.

Shay stood. I curled my fingers in the comforter so I wouldn’t throw her onto the bed. She tickled the knot of her belt.

The silk opened.

Fell away.

And she stood before me in perfect, goddess-like perfection.

Dark. Sensual. Curvy and feminine and absolutely utterly beautiful, from the ebony curls of her hair to the swell of her breasts and the hidden treasure tucked between her thighs. She let the robe drop to the ground and turned. Her firm ass brought a man to his knees quicker than a gun slammed into the back of the head.

She escaped into the bathroom. I stared after her, my heart punching a hole in my chest.

The water started again. Her voice echoed from the tub.

 “Zach?” Her words were a light tease. “Are you coming in or not?”

Chapter Sixteen - Shay

Heading to campus sucked.

Just plain sucked.

That’s why I didn’t do it alone.

Zach didn’t know how much it meant for him to tag along. Unfortunately, he decided to cheer me up on the back of his Harley. In a history of bad ideas, crawling onto a two-wheeled monstrosity driven by a guy named
Hard
might have been my most dangerous adventure. It still wasn’t my worst idea, but if I cracked my skull off the asphalt or swallowed just
one
bug, so help me God…

“Are you sure this thing is safe?” I bit my nail. Zach fit a helmet over my head. The dimples flashed. He thought my reluctance was hilarious. “I’m really not brave enough for this.”

“It’s fine. Once you hop out of a helo in hostile territory under enemy fire, a little bike ride seems pretty relaxing.” Zach wore a pair of sunglasses. Aviator. Like he
tried
to be the cliché soldier. It worked. “Still, I’d rather tour Afghanistan on the bike than take I-75.”

“You think you’re so cute.”

“So do you.”

I wasn’t answering that. He had to work for it. And, knowing Zach? He would.

Eagerly. Like a little boy in a candy store.

“Come on. I’ll ride you to the campus, then we’ll get lunch.”

I secured my backpack and triple checked it wouldn’t spill my life onto the highway. “Lunch?”

“That okay?”

He said it so
casually
.

Sure, I made a scene when I invited him into my bathtub. And yes, he fulfilled his promise when I finally granted him entry into the master bedroom. But lunch?

Somehow that changed our arrangement to something…different. Good different, but still confusing and exposed. My emotions blended into a weird cocktail of Zach and went straight to my head.

Really,
lunch
was where our relationship should have began. I went from leaping into bed with him to hating his guts and back again. That emotional whiplash hadn’t stopped for small-talk, baby pictures, or embarrassing stories about our prior relationships.

Had we done it right, I would have started by smiling at him over a menu, flirting by biting a straw, and then excusing myself from the table so he could watch my ass sway. Now we were a couple sways too late for that. Probably a few bounces, spanks, and wiggles too.

Zach shifted his long legs over the motorcycle. He patted behind him.

“Better hang on tight,” he said. “You know. Like last night.”

I smacked him through the helmet, picking a path over the coiled parts and chrome finish. I awkwardly fit onto the seat. I had no choice but to cling to Zach. The bike angled, and my waist ground against his back.

Just what we needed while flying down the highway at sixty miles an hour.

Zach patted my knee and pulled my arms over him.

“Lean when I lean. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Yeah, and Eve trusted the serpent too.

The bike rumbled under us. The first few turns I screeched instead of leaned, but Zach’s heated laugh warmed me. I focused on his movements. By the time we reached the highway I had enough confidence to open my eyes. I clung to his broad shoulders and let the morning wash over us.

A motorcycle. A SEAL. Zach even made baking a pie sexy. I fought to not fall head-over-heels for him if only so I wouldn’t tumble from the bike.

The bag rested heavy on my shoulders. I brought my schedule, my information, and a formal letter of withdrawal. I managed to not cry when typing it up. Printing the document was another story. That emotional breakdown ended with streaked lines, broken toner, and half a package of Oreos to soothe me.

My goal in life.

Gone.

Hell reserved a special circle for horrible professors. The ones who promised to grade on a curve and didn’t. Those who never graded their tests and only posted scores the day before finals. The absent-minded flakes who forgot to assign homework in class and instead emailed the assignment the night before it was due.

The cruel monsters who crushed innocent students trying to get ahead.

I didn’t care about the money I lost in tuition, just how hard I busted my ass to get on the Dean’s List. All that wasted time. Then again, what did time matter to me? It wasn’t like I was in a hurry to find a job and make money. I’d transfer to another school, take my classes, and then do student teaching with a saner advisor.

And I had to prepare to do it alone.

My friends weren’t in a chatty mood after I stormed out of dinner—especially as the forty dollars I tossed on the table didn’t cover
all
their meals. And Zach…

Zach wouldn’t be hanging around either. My heart ached. I’d actually miss my nuisance house guest when he re-enlisted in the SEALs.

Though I’d rather lose him to a deployment than anything worse.

I didn’t want to imagine something bad happening to him.

I gripped him harder. He didn’t seem to notice—the bastard was too busy accelerating, splitting a lane between two cars and edging onto the exit ramp. I pinched my eyes shut and clung to him as the bike roared over the road.

He didn’t just get off picking up pretty girls from bars. He was a pure adrenaline junkie. No wonder he wanted in the SEALs. He acted like a total idiot as a civilian.

We cruised to the campus and parked outside the administration offices. I hobbled off and handed him my helmet.

“Want me to come in with you?” He asked.

Escort me through
this
hostile territory? Not without a polo shirt as camouflage, his gun exchanged for a laptop bag, and his radio swapped for Beats headphones. I shook my head.

“I’ll handle it.”

He didn’t remove the sunglasses. That only attracted glances from passing girls. He grinned as I spied a cluster emerging from the nearby dorms.

“They’re freshman,” I warned. “Look, but don’t touch.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “They don’t got a thing on you, baby.”

Christ, I believed him.
Again
. That would have to stop.

Or did it?

Ugh. Not what I needed to worry about while facing the crumbling foundation of my future.

I marched into the administrative offices with all the confidence I could fake. The secretary greeted me with oversized glasses and undersized patience. I tried to smile, but I didn’t know what expression said
Hi, I’m dropping out of college and disappointing generations of my family. Where do I sign?

I opted for something simpler.

“Hi. I…uh, I was withdrawing from my classes. I have my form…”

“Student ID number.”

I rattled it off. She waved for the papers in my hand—the few letters I gathered from my professors who waived the F in favor of an Incomplete.

“A member of the student relations board will call you once this is processed. Please be aware we cannot grant refunds on this semester’s tuition.”

“Oh, I…I know.”

“Have a nice day.”

That was it? I swallowed. The secretary dismissed me with a slurp of her diet Coke.

Was it really that easy? All of Professor Sweeten’s threats, the humiliation at the academy, the sleepless nights—and all I had to do was hand in a
letter
?

I could have
emailed
my failure to the school.

What the hell was I doing standing before a complete stranger pretending not to fall to pieces? These people wouldn’t help. They’d sweep me into the same garbage bin as the other shattered students who fell apart before making it into the real world.

Thank God Momma wasn’t here to see this. Or Dad. He was the one who paid for it.

I returned to Zach. He tossed me the helmet.

“It was quick,” I said.

He shuddered. “Words a guy never wants to hear.”

I forced a smile. “I’m not very hungry.”

“But I know the best burger joint.”

“Zach—”

“Hop on. They make a chocolate milkshake that’s more tempting than you.”

Ice-cream did sound good. For a girl without a future and a severe allergy to cats, about the only thing I could collect in the future would be pints of gourmet ice-creams.

Hell, if I
really
wanted to become an eccentric hermit, I’d invest in some prime ice-cream makers with all my untouched money…

The idea struck me with the same severity as an ice-cream headache. I hopped on the bike and patted for Zach to ride.

“Damn. Someone likes her desserts. You should have told me. I can do wicked things with whipped cream—”

“Drive, Zach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

True to his word, Zach delivered us to a gluttonous heart-attack waiting to happen—a Mom and Pop diner with food served in a puddle of grease. The milkshake crowned with a heaping layer of whipped cream bigger than my head. It was a good choice.

I nibbled on my fries, scrunching my nose as Zach dipped his into my chocolate shake. He didn’t let me argue.

“Just try it.”

I rolled my eyes and buried the fry into the mess. Sweet, salty, and perfect.

“You gotta stop fighting me,” Zach winked. “No, you can’t live here. No, I don’t want to talk to you. No, don’t put it in
there
, that’ll hurt.”

“Very funny.”

“You okay?” He asked.

I shrugged, happy for the milkshake to distract me. “I think so.”

“No shame in ordering a second of those.”