Page 25 of Blackmailing the Bad Girl

Chapter Six

Where am I?

Summer lay on her back, some sort of weight holding her down. Her heart rate spiked as panic grabbed her insides and twisted them up tight. A sense of suffocation ratcheted the panic up a notch. Her breath was coming in short, sharp pants, and she forced herself to inhale, then exhale, slowly. She’d often suffered panic attacks in the early months in prison. Darcy had taught her how to cope.

Don’t panic.

She’d screwed up her eyes tight. Now she blinked them open. Clearly, it was still nighttime, but a muted light filtered in through the open curtains. Enough to show the high ceilings and spacious room. She was out of prison.No one was going to attack her here. There would be a perfectly good reason why she couldn’t move.

It came to her slowly. And while not perfectly good, it was an explanation.

She’d lost all sense of self-preservation and virtually begged the blackmailing monster on top of her to shag her brains out.

Holy moly, what have I done?

But it had been so good. Sex for her in the past had always been…fun. But never passionate. That’s what happened when you went to bed with your best friend. She and Danny had never been able to cross the barrier from friends to lovers. However much they both wanted to, it had just never worked, and in the end, they’d stopped trying. She decided not to read any significance into the fact that the moment they’d stopped trying had coincided with the time she had first met the man now sprawled on top of her.

She was on her back, with his arm slung over her shoulder and his leg covering her hips, anchoring her to the bed. As if he sensed that if he didn’t hold her down, she would vanish.

But this was her apartment.

Any vanishing would be done by him.

She picked up the hand on her shoulder and dropped it at his side, then inched out from under the leg. Luckily, he slept like the dead.

Sitting up, she let her eyes adjust to the low light. She was naked. What a surprise. A scrap of purple silk stuck out from under the duvet, and she gave it a tug. After wrapping herself in the robe, she tied the belt, tight. Her seduction outfit. Though she’d not had a lot of choice. It had been this or a towel, and she hadn’t wanted to seem too obvious. And there was no denying it had worked.

She’d been avoiding looking at him, but now her gaze was drawn to the man sprawled across the mattress, diagonally because he was almost too long to fit lengthways. He lay on his side, the duvet draped strategically over his hips. She let him keep it, though her fingers twitched.

He was quite the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. All hard masculine lines, tousled blond hair reaching to his shoulders—she remembered holding his head, her fingers gripping the silky strands of his hair while he…

Don’t go there, Summer.

This was a one-off, never-to-be-repeated experience. She couldn’t risk lowering her guard while she had no clue what his endgame was.

She slipped off the bed and stood for a moment, her legs a little unsteady. She’d had rather a lot to drink last night. Then tiptoed across to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she pulled out the second bottle of champagne. She tore off the foil and tugged out the cork. The wine frothed up, and she brought the bottle to her mouth and took a gulp. It was icy cold and delicious, the bubbles fizzing in her empty stomach. She found a tumbler and filled it, drank it down, and poured another.

Her eyes lit on the chocolate cake, untouched on the counter. She found a fork and pulled herself up to sit next to it, legs dangling. It had “Welcome Home Summer” in white frosting on the chocolate icing.

She took a mouthful and chewed slowly.

When she was younger, before her mother’s accident, she’d always binged when she’d been sad, or happy, or anything at all. Her mother had encouraged her. Summer had come to see that it had been her mother’s subconscious way of ensuring that her daughter wouldn’t make the same mistakes she had. She’d be so unattractive, no one would want her. But Summer would worry about binge eating tomorrow. She’d add it to her things-not-to-do list, right under sleeping with blackmailing bastards.

She washed the cake down with a mouthful of champagne. Took another bite.

She was halfway through the huge cake when she sensed someone watching her. No guesses needed.

She stopped, a forkful halfway to her mouth. He leaned in the doorway. How long had he been there? He’d wrapped a purple towel around his hips, so at least he wasn’t naked. He looked too good, and her muscles tightened, her insides melting at the memory of what they’d done together.

It was still nighttime. Time enough to be sensible tomorrow. She held out the fork to him.

His face was free of expression, as if he was holding everything in. Maybe he was worried she was going to have a breakdown or something.

He walked toward her slowly, reached out, wrapped his fingers around hers, and brought the fork to his mouth. He held her gaze as he chewed. Then he swallowed, leaned in toward her, and kissed her lips.

He tasted of chocolate, just about her favorite taste in the whole world. She pushed her tongue into his mouth as the fork clattered to the floor, and he was kissing her back, his hands sliding under the robe. He cupped her ass, lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her through to the living room, lowering her to the bed without breaking the kiss.

This time they made love slowly, each movement intense, measured, the pleasure building inside her, swelling until it burst and she was floating.

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