Return of the Bad Boy (7 page)

He lets out a small groan and his hands climb down the sides of my ribs. I know it’s frustration because his hands are finding nothing but fabric. Finally, he reaches down to my thighs, to the hem of my dress. He’s tugging it up, letting the cool air hit my upper thighs, higher, and higher. I let him slip his hands under my backside and scoop me up, wrapping my legs around him, feeling him, so hard against my aching sex.

Holy fuck. I cry out as his tongue explores its way down my neck. His hands are cupping my bare ass, and I’m exposed, but I don’t even care. I want more, and I’m not even sure I can ever have enough of this. Only he could make me feel this way. This is the bad girl Katie, the one only Dax Harding could unleash.

He pulls away, eyes uncharacteristically wide. “Katie?” he murmurs, running a finger down the side of my face.

“Mmm?” I say, licking my lips.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

“I forgot them,” I whisper. “Is that bad?”

He lets out a low chuckle. “No. Surprising, for you, though.”

I smile. “I didn’t think Dax Harding got surprised.”

His finger slowly makes its way to my lower lip, resting there. My tongue slips out, tasting his finger. He lets out a ragged breath as I take his finger into my mouth, sucking on it. He groans. “Oh,
fuck,”
he mumbles, his body falling against me. “You’re sure you’re a virgin?”

I cast him a hooded gaze, through my eyelashes. I don’t know how to explain it, other than that Dax unleashes a side of me no one else can. With him, I’m only doing what feels right. Putting as much of my skin against his, tasting whatever I can of him, bathing in his essence . . . that feels right.

A seagull screeches overhead. He looks up, and then lowers my dress into place. “Look. I don’t want us to fuck on the street like a couple of animals . . . “

“No?” I ask, mock-confused.

He casts me a look of disbelief. The Dax who is always so in control doesn’t know what to do with me. It’s a delicious feeling of triumph, knowing what I’m making him feel inside.

“My apartment’s too far away. I know a hotel right here,” I murmur into his ear, my voice low and throaty.

“Good.” His whisper is thick with desire. He grabs my hand and I can’t really say with complete clarity what follows in the next moments.

It’s like a flashing strobe light of events, fragments, pulsing with the excitement and adrenaline of what’s to come.

In the lobby, signing a credit card receipt and getting a key card. In the mirrored, elegant elevator, just trying to hold on, not much longer. Walking the deserted hallway, watching the numbers climb, his hands on me, his hot mouth on my throat.

When we get to the door he lingers there, his mouth on my neck. “Are you sure? Do you want this, Katydid?”

I nod. I want nothing more than the door to be open.

He holds the key card in his hand. “You want to stop, you tell me. Got it? We can always stop.”

“I won’t want to,” I tell him, more sure of this than I have ever been of anything in my life.

When he opens the door and we explode into the room, not a moment is wasted. He presses me up against the door, and the second it clicks closed under my weight, his mouth is hot and heavy on mine. His hands roam my body. He whirls me around and presses against me so I can feel his erection, hard, against my ass. I’m caught between the flat, unforgiving door and the ever harder wall of muscle that is Dax. Pushing my hair to the side, his mouth devours my neck, making me cry out again. I’m aching, wet, more turned on than I’ve ever been as he drags down the zipper reaching from my shoulders to my ass. He spreads open the dress and I feel his tongue between my shoulder blades, sending jolts of excitement through the ends of every one of my nerves.

Oh, my god, this feels so good I can already barely take it. My nerve endings are like live wires, about to overload from the jolt of current pulsing through them
.

He pulls my dress from my shoulders and slides it down my body until it’s puddled on the floor. When I’m standing there, naked except for my pumps, he turns me around. My nipples pebble as his hungry gaze sweeps over me. “Goddamn,” he drawls, low and lost as his eyes rake over my naked body. “You’re beautiful.”

He scoops me up and places me on the bed, gazing at me hungrily. Then he pulls off his t-shirt and kneels on the ground before me. His body looms over me, not quite touching, but close enough that I can feel the sparks radiating between us. His eyes are dark now, half-lidded, primal, feral. Then, all at once he descends and his mouth slams down on mine in a feverish kiss. Soon, it’s back to fucking with our tongues, and part of me thinks I might just be able to stay doing this forever and ever and be fine. At the same time, I want so much more.

Everything he has to give.

I tug at his shirt, helping him lift it over his head, then my fingers trail down his hard chest, stopping at the trail of dark hair pointing the way from his belly to what’s beneath. I unsnap his jeans, and he lets out a heavy, panting breath as I lower the zipper. My knuckles graze his hardness through his underwear, and he jolts with the motion. “Is this . . . okay?” I ask uncertainly.

He chuckles softly. “Anything you want to do is okay, Katydid.”

Emboldened by that, I look down between us. My body shudders as I see his underwear, stretched over his erection. I suck in a breath. “I’ve never . . .”

He kicks off his jeans and now he’s only in his underwear. Then he takes my hand, dips open the band of his underwear, and gently slips my hand inside.

He’s hot, burning up. I feel the small wisps of hair there, and then his cock. My body shivers as I stroke its smooth thickness. I look up and see him, head tilted back, one eye gazing intently at me. I nudge down his underwear so I can see it, and he complies, pulling it down and kicking them off too, so we’re both naked.

My eyes trail down his strong torso, to the V of his waist, to the trimmed pubic hair. And there it is, his cock. Glorious and rock hard and damn. Huge. I have nothing to compare it to, I know. But there is no denying it. Dax Harding is huge. And beautiful.

I draw in a shaky breath as it hits home.

This is happening. There are no doubts in my mind. Only me, and Dax, about to do something we should’ve done a long time ago.

He closes the gap so my breasts push against his chest. I pull him closer, even closer, so close that his heartbeat is thudding against mine. He leans his head down and kisses me, soft and tender, his eyes begging me once more for permission. Does he not know that I’ve already given him permission? That I’ve already said yes? It’s far from the Dax that treats women like meaningless conquests. It’s like he can’t believe that I would deign to be with him. “Don’t stop this,” I tell him, completely melted and gasping from the tenderness of this moment.

I race my fingers down his strong back to the globes of his ass, kneading them. He growls into his kisses, then his mouth drops down, lower, lower, finding purchase on my breast. And all at once he’s licking and sucking my nipple, leaving me spasming and arching my back in pure delight. I scratch at his ass with my fingernails, pushing myself off the bed, meeting his open mouth. He stays like that for what seems like hours, just licking and kissing my breasts, cupping one and then the other, and the small fire in my belly starts to gather into a fiery inferno.

Then his mouth slowly trails downward, licking and nibbling to my naval. His rough cheeks are like sandpaper against my skin but it’s an amazing friction. He slides off the bed, then suddenly grabs my leg, lifting it up, positioning himself so that I can feel his breath on my clit. I let out an animal groan as his nose bumps up against my clit. “Oh,” I murmur, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Oh, no . . . I can’t. Please don’t.”

He sits up and lays a kiss right beneath my naval. “Tell me what you want to me to do, Katydid.”

“Touch me there,” I murmur. “Just touch me everywhere.”

He nudges my thighs open with his knees, spreading me open. I’m dripping wet. His hand slides between my legs, fingering my clit, and then slowly, he delves a finger into my hot, wet core. I gasp as fever shoots through ever one of my nerves. His finger slides slowly and rhythmically, in and out of me, making me moan and wriggle under his touch. His touch on my clit is gentle and soft and slow, circling surely so that now the wetness is coursing out of me. I feel an ache in my belly, something inside me, yearning to be filled.

“I want you to fuck me,” I hear a voice say.

I’m surprised to hear that it’s my own. What is he making me into? Someone bad…and someone who absolutely loves it.

I hear a packet rip, and feel his hand withdraw from me for the smallest second, so that he can roll the condom on. I rest my weight on my elbows, watching him take his shaft in his hand and guide it between my legs. He pauses at my entrance and looks into my eyes. “Sure you want this?”

I nod.
More than anything.

He covers me with his body, and suddenly I feel him sliding slowly into me, inch by inch, filling me.

For one intense moment, the pressure becomes so intense that I close my eyes tightly and grit my teeth. Can I really do this?

He’s too big.

“Fuck, Katie,” he murmurs, voice strained and husky. His hands are gripping my hips. “You’re so tight. I’m almost . . . in.”

And then he is flush against me, hips against hips. The intense pressure and pain subsides, and now there’s just this enormous feeling of fullness, of completeness that I’ve been lacking all my life. He’s huge, stretching me, and I feel him inside me, throbbing with his heartbeat. I let out a shuddery breath and savor the feeling of his hot skin totally against mine, blanketing me. I kiss the side of his face, salty with his sweat, and wonder what comes next.

“This okay?” he asks unsurely. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head. “I love it.”

And it’s true. Now that he’s inside me, I’m getting even wetter and the nerve endings are pulsing, millions of them, and I moan ecstatically.

Pressure is building again, an explosion just waiting to happen. Before it can, he releases his grip on my hips and pulls himself out. I feel the tip of his shaft at my entrance for a mere breath, and then he plunges inside, slowly and steadily.

I can’t help it. It rips an orgasmic shriek from my mouth.

“Okay?” he asks me, searching out my eyes.

“Yes. More. Faster.”

Another slow, slide out, and this time, no pause. He thrusts into me, hard this time. The excitement is building, blooming deep in my core like a volcano, ready to erupt. His muscles are tense as he pulls out and thrusts again, harder, faster, deeper, and there is pain, but mostly just the desire to get more of him as far into me as possible. “Yes.
Yes
,” I cry out. “Fuck me, Dax. Harder. Don’t stop.”

“You like it hard?” he says, voice strained as I’m now lifting my hips off the bed, meeting his every thrust in a steadily hastening rhythm. We’re both covered in sweet sweat, and the friction is threatening to make us burst into flames.

I grunt my approval.

My swollen sex is dripping and his skin is slapping against mine, and the feel of his drenched cock sliding in and out is turning me on beyond imagination.

He feels so good I can’t even believe it. I want to taste and smell and feel him forever, and meanwhile, I feel something coming—something deep inside me, getting more urgent and desperate for release.

“Harder,” I murmur, concentrating hard. This feeling . . . what is it? It started low in my belly but now it’s radiating out, threatening to take over every inch of me. Now, I feel shameless. I want his mouth on me, everywhere. I want him to fuck me forever. The pressure in my belly is now thundering through me, and I know an explosion is coming.

He slows his thrusts, sliding in and out, testing the rhythm, getting even deeper. His chest slides against my hard nipples, and suddenly, I let out a cry. He’s found the right place, because the pleasure is almost too much to take, I’m getting even hotter and closer to that edge than I dreamed possible. I hook my legs around his hips and he buries himself impossibly deep inside me. I’m frantic as I find myself building to the edge of that peak.

The climax.

I don’t know it’s really the climax until it hits me. I’ve never had one before. My entire body ripples with such intensity I let out an animal scream. I come. So hard. So hard that I keep screaming and sobbing his name, over and over again, even as I start to come down. He rips me apart.

He must’ve been holding out on me because the second I find myself coming down, he plunges deep into me, holding me there, and I feel him pulsating inside me. He lets out a long, muffled groan into my hair, then whispers my name over and over again.

“Katherine,” he murmurs as the shuddering subsides, gazing dreamily into my eyes. He falls then, completely limp, into my arms.

But that’s not my name. Not anymore.

“Katie,” I whisper to correct him, cradling his head against my chest. “I’ll always be your Katie.”

S
taring
up at the ceiling of the hotel room, I look around, seeing everything for the first time. I’d been so blinded to everything but Dax that we could’ve done it in the middle of Quincy Market and I wouldn’t have cared. I look over at Dax, and a ripple of need rushes through me, catching low in my abdomen.

He grabs my wrists and pins my arms over my head, kissing me. He’s hard again. As he starts to kiss his way down my breastbone, it hits me.

I’m not a virgin anymore.

In high school, Nevaeh had texted me when she lost her virginity to Stephen. Juliet texted me every time she slept with a new guy. I don’t have anyone to text, but the funny thing is, I don’t care. Dax is the only one I’ve ever wanted to tell everything to. The only one I’ve ever really
needed.

And God, it was
good.
All
good, because it was Dax. I’d heard the details of my friends’ deflowering, and it had sounded like a huge letdown, anything but romantic. But Dax had been incredible. Gentle, sweet, yet also strong and powerful and in control. So good was an understatement. This ranked as one of, if not the best, nights of my life.

And I’m pretty sure the other bests were also nights spent with Dax, talking on the phone, sneaking out, being together.

It’s always been him, I realize.

And the years without him have been like shadow versions of the times I’m with him.

“Okay, what’s that face about?” he asks, sliding to my side and propping himself on one elbow, lingering over me.

Holy hell, he’s beautiful. When he’s around it’s hard to believe anything is wrong. But when he says that, I realize something is tickling the back of my mind. I bite my lip, try to push it away. How can he know something’s wrong before
I
even know it? “Nothing.”

He sucks in a breath. “Something.”

“I feel like everything I’ve ever been told has been turned upside-down,” I explain, hyper-aware of every inch of Dax’s chiseled, naked body pressed up against mine. “You know, everyone’s always telling you to wait, because it’ll be better that way. Better, how? Instead, I’ve missed four years of
this.
If I knew what I was missing . . . Why did we wait that long? Why didn’t you tell me it would be that good?”

He let out a low, sexy laugh. “I think I might have
tried
to tell you. About a thousand times.”

“That’s not true. You never pressured me.”

“Maybe I should’ve. I
would
have, if I ever thought you’d cave,” he jokes, raising an eyebrow. He gently plays with a lock of my hair. “And sometimes you have to learn on your own that your parents aren’t right about everything.”

My parents. I let out a sigh. They would kill me if they could see me now. But the funny thing is, I don’t care. My father has been saying forever that he knows what’s best for me, and that someday, I’ll thank him. But if I’d listened to him, I never would have had this amazing night with Dax. “Maybe they’re not right about a lot of things,” I mumble.

He trails his warm finger on my collarbone. “Law school?”

I nod. “My father thinks it’s the key to my happiness. But what does he know about happiness? I thought he knew everything, but obviously not. He and my mother are miserable together.” I think of the way I left my dad, snoozing away on the couch. “They’re getting a divorce, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow but seems less than shocked. “Why?”

I sigh. “No clue. They won’t tell me. They suddenly hate each other. And sometimes I think it’s because of me. You know I’m their world. Maybe I was the common thread holding them together, and without me to look after, they just fell apart.”

“That’s their business, not yours,” he says simply.

But it’s not that simple for me.

It’s different for Dax, though. He hasn’t really had parents to depend on, ever. I try to explain what I mean. “I’ve never seen my dad look so down. He’s used to laugh and smile all the time. Now he’s like a totally different person. I feel like if I disappoint him with the law school thing, he’ll unravel completely.” I close my eyes. “I wish I had a real passion that I followed with my whole heart. I mentioned once to my dad that I might like to be a lawyer. I also said I might like to be a princess or a rock star or an astronaut, too. But he took the lawyer thing as gospel and now here I am. Stuck.”

“You’re not stuck. You need to tell him.”

Again, he makes it sound so easy. “But I need to have a solid back-up plan. I don’t even know what I
want
to do.”

He looks puzzled. He’s always loved cars. Tinkering is in his blood. I guess it’s hard for him to understand how a person can be born without passion like that. “Haven’t you ever had anything that stirred you up? Made you excited to wake up in the morning? Something you couldn’t
not
do?”

I don’t even have to think. I know I’ll come up blank. The only thing that’s ever made me feel out of control excited is, well . . . him. Maybe that’s pathetic, but it’s true. “I wish I could be like you. You know exactly what you love to do, and you do it.”

A smile quirks up one corner of his mouth. “Nah. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love cars. But the garage is the garage. It’s small, falling apart. I’ve been toying with the idea of opening a real high-end shop. Even got myself pre-approved for a loan. But my father tells me that Friesville ain’t the place for that. People have sent their cars to me from as far away as Connecticut, Virginia, Ohio to have me work on them, but he thinks it’ll fail. The last thing I want to do is sink what little our family has into it and prove him right,” he says.

The way he talks about it, his eyes blazing with such fierce intensity, I have a hard time believing anything he attempts will fail. “You should do it. I think it would work. Even in a small town like Friesville.”

He rolls over onto his back and plants his hands behind his head. I nestle myself in the crook of his arm.

“Parents,” he mutters. “Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t be born into this world without ‘em. I guess they did something right, though. If ours hadn’t decided to settle in Friesville, we never would’ve met.”

I swallow hard as I remember something else. “My parents are selling the house and leaving town, though. Soon I won’t have a home there. And I won’t have . . .” I stop, the words
a reason to come back
on the tip of my tongue.

Because now I have every reason to come back. Now, I have the biggest reason in the world.

He tucks a finger under my chin, lifting my head so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. “You’ll always have a home with me,” he tells me. “You got that?”

“But your family . . . your friends . . .” I start. If he’s my home in Friesville, there will be no sneaking around. And surely they’d all have something to say about us being a couple. That was the reason everything fell apart when we went public before.

Everyone turned on us, everything blew up, nobody supported what we had.

And worst of all . . . “My parents. Are you saying we just . . .”

He nods. “Fuck ‘em.”

It feels like such a huge step. But when I think of it, it’s like a heavy weight, released from my shoulders. We’re adults now, capable of making our own decisions. And everything about this feels right, and real. If he’s willing to take that major step, then I am, too.

I smile. “All right. Fuck ‘em.”