Page 7 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“Uh-huh.” The lie crumbles under her knowing stare, and I try not to get defensive. She reaches out, patting my leg with a soft hand. “Just be careful, okay? These vacation flings, especially with bad boys, they can burn hot and fast and leave you with nothing but ashes.”

What makes her think Lark is a bad boy? “He seems nice,” I say, but she clears her throat, and I make the mistake of looking her in the eyes.

“Trust me, he’s a bad boy. I know them when I see them.” She’s so serious I know I should trust what she’s saying. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know, I know.” My voice breaks and I pull away from her touch. “I can handle myself, and I’m not going to get hurt because I have some time with a guy on my vacation.” I’m not some delicate flower. I love my friend, but I don’t need her to mother me right now, even though I know it all comes from a good place. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” she says, but I can see the shadow of doubt in her eyes. “Just remember, those guys, they have a way of disappearing when you want – or need - them most.”

“Shana, I—”

“Promise me,” she cuts me off, her expression fierce and as protective as a lioness. “Promise me you won't forget who you are for some guy with a cute smirk and a few smooth lines.”

“Promise.” The word is a rock in my throat, hard and solid. I mean it. And I’m never going to get into a situation where I need this guy. It’s just wanting. Just a need for some time to connect with someone I’ll never see again after this vacation is over.

“Good.” She smiles, her eyes warm and loving. “Because you’re worth so much more than a holiday romance.”

And this is why she’s my best friend – she’ll tell me things like they are and won’t hold back. While I might get annoyed at her sometimes, I’m grateful for reminders like this that will help me guard my heart against this bad boy during our fling.

My heart dances with excitement as I make the decision to go back to his room tonight. After all, I kept his room key.

My fingers turn over the plastic card that’ll grant me access to his room over and over in my pocket. The plastic feels heavy, somehow, like it's weighted with every warning Shana gave me. I slide it out as I approach his door, the numbers matching the ones etched in my mind.

And I hesitate. Am I making the right choice? My body craves the pleasure he so effortlessly brought me to, but Shana’s right… this isn’t like me. But why shouldn’t I? I’m allowed to have fun, and this guy hasn’t done anything to make me feel unsafe or worried he might pull something. So what’s my hesitation?

But try as I might, I can’t think of a single reason not to do this. It’s harmless fun with someone who brings every inch of my body to life.

I touch the plastic to the lock and the light turns green. Turning the handle, I open it slowly, quietly. The soft click seems to echo down the hallway as the door closes behind me. My heart is a wild drumbeat in my chest and my lungs freeze and refuse to let any air in or out.

“You’re back,” he says without turning around. His voice is deep, gravely, and so damn exciting.

I step closer, my eyes adjusting to the dimness. He's pouring amber liquid into a glass with practiced ease.

“I hope you don't mind whiskey,” he says over his shoulder, and I wonder if he knew I was coming.

“I don't mind,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel as I try to gather up my courage. This was easier when things between us just spiraled out of control. But this… this feels different. Like we planned it rather than two hungry souls looking for release in the heat of the moment. I’m not disappointed, just curious about the difference.

He finally turns, and the sight of him hits me all over again. That incredible body, the way his shirt hugs his muscles just right, making me hungry for more than I dare admit. His sleeves are rolled up, forearms on display, power and strength evident in the lines of his veins. I want to kiss every inch of this man, to feel his power under my lips, to enjoy him letting me do as I please.

I swallow hard, hoping he can’t read my thoughts on my face. “Nice shirt,” I say. It’s a feeble attempt at casual conversation and I doubt he won’t notice.

“Thanks,” he says, his gaze tracing over me before coming to a stop on mine. His green eyes are just as intense and piercing as they have been every time I’ve seen him. “It matches your eyes.”

A laugh escapes me, nervous, edged with excitement. “You remember my eye color?”

“Pretty hard not to. They're striking.” He offers me a drink and I take it, downing the stinging liquor in one gulp as if it’ll give me the liquid courage I need to relax. He watches me, leaning back against the counter and giving me a view that has my mouth going dry. I can see that he’s hard and ready through his pants, and my cheeks sting.

“Are you always this forward?” I ask, taking a step closer to him as desire and excitement mingle in my veins. It feels good to be wanted, desired.

“Only when I see something I want.” He reaches out, fingers brushing mine as he takes my glass.

Our eyes lock, and my whole being wants to step into his arms, to kiss him, to unleash all this pent-up desire flowing through me.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling the kick of the liquor.

“Anytime.” He pushes off from the counter, closing the distance between us in a stride. “So, what brings you to my room tonight?” There’s a teasing note in his voice so I know he knows the answer. But I guess if he wants to hear me say it out loud, I better gather my courage and try to force the words out.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing.

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