Page 6 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
“I’m a pediatric nurse. And I know what you’re thinking, but a doctor wasnotwhat I needed.” She wrinkled her cute button nose. “Neither was the nurse or lab tech, though they were certainly male and moderately sexy.”
He had no idea what to say to that.
She did and spoke right up, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I know this sounds forward, but I’ve been looking for quite some time and you,wow, seriouslywow, so let me get right to the point—I’d like to do a number of things with you of the naked variety, if you’re agreeable.”
“I am,” he answered immediately. He was no dummy. He snagged her elbow and guided her to a quiet corner of the room. That was when he noticed the sexy black heels. A surge of raw lust gripped him with startling intensity. Some of the guys watched him go, giving him knowing looks that he ignored. “What’s your name?” he asked once they had a little privacy.
“Carrie. And you’re Zach. My friends told me who you were, so welcome home!” She sang this last part. “Even though we’ve just met.”
“Thanks. How much have you had to drink?”
“Two glasses of wine. My friends won’t let me have more because they say I can’t hold my liquor.” She frowned, looking very put out about that.
He grinned because she just kept getting more adorable. Also, her hand was now on his chest and she was close enough her sweet vanilla scent was urging him to taste.
She went on. “I have a roommate, Ally. We could go to our place and play loud music to cover what I’m sure will be crazy loud whoopie—”
“Whoopie?”Did people say that anymore?
“But I don’t want to make her feel bad. She’s been down about her dry spell.”
“Would you like to go to my place?”
She threw her arms around his neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His hands went to her waist. “You smell like vanilla.”
“It’s my body wash.” She went up on tiptoe and closed her eyes. “Kiss me,bad boy,” she purred.
“Sure you’re not drunk?” He had to check because normally women didnotcall him bad boy.
She responded by kissing him passionately, and long dormant parts of him responded in kind. He got her back to his new apartment one town over in record time, party forgotten. Once inside his bedroom, she went for it, hands and mouth hungry, kissing, biting, climbing his body. He lost control.
Hot. Rough. Hard.
Pounding, pounding, pounding.
No holding back. Couldn’t hold back.
Sweet cries of ecstasy ringing in his ears. Long guttural groans ripped from his throat.
Hours and hours. He couldn’t get enough. Neither could she.
By the time she curled up against his side and fell asleep, he was exhausted. In a good way. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep wasn’t far off, but he always slept better alone. It was one of those lone-wolf things that used to piss off his ex. Hell, if there was one thing being an anthropologist taught him, he was far better at observing relationships than participating in one. He’d accepted it and now planned his life accordingly.
Carrie mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away from him, taking the blanket with her. He tugged the blanket, but somehow she got it wrapped under her too. He gave up, dressed quickly in undershirt and boxers, and headed to the living room sofa to sleep with the throw blanket.
He fell asleep with the sweet taste of vanilla on his tongue.
