Page 46 of One More Bad Boy

- Chapter Fifteen -

Amina

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There was a beehivenear my ear.

“Ah!” I gasped, gazing around, disoriented. My cheek was resting on something silky—I sat up, remembering I was in Bach’s bed. The buzzing continued in the blankets. Reaching under the dark cloth, I pulled out a sleek phone. The screen blinked with messages, and though I’d never spy on someone intentionally, I couldn’t unsee what was in front of me.

Becky K:Hey, you awake?

Dee Bell:You looked so hot last night!

Sandy Cadilia:Call me ASAP!

Becky K:Chat me later, babe.

Becky K:<3 <3

My stomach rolled in on itself.Fuck. Who are all these people?They were distinctly feminine names.Are they women that Bach has...I could barely finish my thought. But right then, sitting naked in Bach’s bed, I felt very, very stupid.

This was a bad idea.Of course it was. Sleeping with the guy who oversaw your future never ended well. Plus, Korine would smack me for breaking my word. Bach was a bad boy through and through, and I’d happily jumped on his dick last night.

Groaning, I dropped his phone, then buried my face in the pillows.Why am I so weak?I’d been set on resisting that man. I’d lasted a whole, what, two days before doing the nasty with him?Speaking of which...I tossed the pillows aside to confirm I was alone in the room.

Where had Bach gone?This is his house, I’ll have to face him eventually.Scrambling around, I found my dress and under-garments, then tip-toed towards my bedroom. Could you do a walk of shame in your own residence?

One long, extra-hot shower later, and I was feeling nearly human. Leaving the bathroom, I halted a few feet from my bed. I'd tossed the glittery purple dress there when I'd entered. It looked too much like the discarded husk of a giant bug, all wrinkled with the hollow inside exposed.

I'd worn it last night and felt powerful. Beautiful. None of that same strength entered me as I hung the dress in my closet, hiding it away. It was a painful reminder of my hook-up with Bach.Focus on moving forward.Grabbing some blue jeans and a red shirt, I fluffed my short hair until it was semi-dry.

I might have lingered in my bedroom all day if my stomach didn't rumble.

Wandering around downstairs, I crossed through the bright and sunny kitchen. The clock on the microwave blinked nine o'clock. Someone had left a jug of orange juice on the counter next to some flaky pastries.

Snatching one, I nibbled it as I paced the room. Where was Bach? Or Violet? I needed someone to tell me what to do next—they'd been the ones planning my entire schedule since I'd arrived.

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