Page 2 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
Chapter Two
The Morning After Carrie Makes Her Move…
Carrie Young woke with a satisfied smile, fully prepared for her first ever walk of shame. She propped up on her elbows, suddenly alarmed. Something was very wrong. She was naked in the bed of a strange man’s apartment with the delicious scent of bacon wafting through the air. What the fudge!
She jackknifed upright. Was that pancakes too?
Weird. Did bad boys cook breakfast the morning after a wild night of debauchery?
She rolled out of bed and searched for her clothes. She found her purple dress hanging from a lamp where he’d tossed it and the matching bra wadded on the floor nearby. Panties were nowhere to be found. Whatever. She was pretty sure going commando would be exactly what someone who just had a fling with a bad boy would do. She grabbed her purse where she’d dropped it by the bedroom door and slipped on her slutty black heels. But before she could enjoy her walk of shame, she really needed to brush her teeth. She never neglected personal hygiene.
She headed to the adjoining bathroom, pulled a small bag of toiletries from her purse, and inspected herself in the mirror. Yes, she definitely looked ravished. The layers of her blond hair were askew, landing just past her jaw at odd angles. She had beard burn on one side of her neck and her blue eyes were brighter than usual, or maybe that was her new contacts.
She finished up in the bathroom and followed the scent of bacon to the kitchen, where Zach, a tall lean man in his thirties, stood barefoot in front of the stove, expertly flipping pancakes in a white short-sleeve undershirt and dark green tartan plaid boxers. She flashed to a briefOutlanderfantasy becausetartan plaid, and his thick dark brown hair was on the longish side, curling at the nape of his neck. He had the kind of sinewy strong body that could easily lift a woman, as he’d fully demonstrated when he (unknowingly) performed item number six on her secret naughty list, euphemistically named Carrie’s Wish List.
A girl had to dream. Especially after dedicating six prime years—nineteen to twenty-five—to Edward, her super-controlling, repressed, toxic ex. Why had she stayed with him so long? Maybe because she’d been young and naive, maybe because he’d started off with the most romantic of courtships, or maybe she just didn’t know any better, having nothing to compare him to. That time was past. It had been more than a year since Edward, and now she was spreading her legs, er, wings. She’d been looking for the alpha-bad-boy experience because there was just so much she’d missed out on in the bedroom.
Carrie was taking back her womanly mojo.
Her stomach growled. She’d strut out of here right after breakfast. It would be rude to leave when Zach had gone to the trouble of making all this delicious food.
“Hi,” she said.
He whirled, a slow smile dawning. He had a full beard and she nearly squirmed remembering the unusual sensation of it brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck and breasts and belly. “Hi, Carrie,” he said in a deep honey voice that made her knees weak. If she were wearing panties, they totally would’ve melted. “Hope you like pancakes.”
“I do, thanks.”
“Coffee’s ready.” He gestured to the coffee maker, which had just beeped. “Help yourself.” He turned back to the stove.
“You’re quite the host.” She set her purse under the square wooden kitchen table. Then she tried out the naughty-girl thing on her way to coffee. “Zach, right?”
He turned, his light brown eyes narrowing. “Do you not remember calling out my name multiple times last night? You said you only had two glasses of wine.”
She blushed furiously, felt extremely naughty and bit back a smile as she poured herself a cup of coffee in the white mug sitting on the counter. “It’s starting to come back to me.”
Suddenly he was at her side, taking the coffee from her hand, setting it on the counter, and then cradling her jaw with one warm hand. He tipped her head up and gazed down at her for a long smoldering moment. Her lips parted, her heart thudding in her ears, her body humming in anticipation. He was so much bigger, tall with wide shoulders, she felt petite, even though she was an average five feet five.
He dipped his head, his lips brushing over hers in a whisper of a kiss. “Maybe you need a reminder.”
“I do,” she breathed, aching for more. Zach had been everything she hoped last night—sensual, insatiable, open to anything. Now he was going to let breakfast burn while he tookwickedadvantage of her and hopefully performed item number one on her wish list.
He bit her lower lip and then sucked it. “After I feed you.” His voice was gruff and growly, scraping across her insides. He gazed deep into her eyes, still cradling her jaw, and she couldn’t breathe for a moment. Finally, he released his hold on her and swaggered back to the stove.
She wobbled and leaned against the counter, her skin hot, her lower lip still tingling.
He glanced over at her, a small knowing smile playing over his lips.
She looked away, blushing, but then reminded herself she was no longer that blushing good girl, she was a woman who made no apologies about, well, anything. She retrieved her coffee mug from the counter and settled with it at the kitchen table, carefully tucking her dress under her. There was only a half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, which was mostly empty. Just a black sofa with a dark red fleece blanket thrown over the back, TV mounted on the wall, a desk with a laptop, and a bunch of boxes lined up on one side. They were on the first floor of an apartment complex, end unit, she remembered that from last night. Definite bachelor pad. Neat, even. That didn’t mean he wasn’t the alpha bad boy of her fantasies. He’d already ticked so many of the boxes—deep panty-melting voice, beard, hard muscular body, and most importantly, passion. Plus sexual confidence that made him deliciously dominating andintense. Woo! Was he ever intense! Okay, yes, the lack of tattoos was a little disappointing, but all things considered, he’d been perfect for her—sexy alpha with just a hint of bad. She’d sort of pounced on him at the bar last night once she knew he was a friend of her cop friend, Ethan, who’d confirmed Zach was bad to the bone but not in a criminal way. She wasn’t crazy, after all, just sexually deprived.
A few minutes later, Zach served her a plate with three crispy pieces of bacon and two pancakes drizzled in syrup.
“Thank you,” she said, cutting into the pancake and popping a piece in her mouth. Omigod. It was amazing. He’d even warmed the syrup. She chalked up his gourmet cooking to his extremely sensual nature. Food like this was definitely a sensual experience. He was still her fantasy bad boy. “Are these blueberry?”
“Yeah. They’re in season. You like?”
She quickly cut another large piece. “I love them!” It was the first weekend of August and this area of Connecticut was bursting with fresh produce.
“Good,” he said gruffly. A shiver ran down her spine. Gruff and growly did it for her for some reason. He filled a plate for himself, sat across from her, and dug in.
