Page 8 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“I want you,” I whisper. Somehow my softly-spoken words seem to echo like gunshots in the room. His eyes darken with desire, and I feel something shift between us. Something deep and dangerous, something that leaves me trembling and excited.

“You want me, huh?” He runs a hand through his short dark hair, his green eyes never leaving my face as I stand frozen in place. “Let's see where that leads.”

With that, he pulls me close at the same moment I wind my arms around his shoulders. The moment our lips meet, my body melts, begging for him to work his magic like he can hear my needs and wants.

His kiss is fierce, hot enough to melt my body into a puddle of desire. The need I feel spirals out of control as his tongue slides along the seam of my lips. I open for him, allowing him anything in a way that echoes what I really want from the man – for him to do anything he likes to me.

As his hands slide between my leggings and skin, I gasp, loving the sensations.

“I need you,” I gasp between kisses, feeling his hardness against me, pressing into my belly. My hands roam over him, impatient to feel his skin against mine. Our hands fumble with each other’s clothing and when he pulls my shirt off and realizes I’m wearing nothing but perfume under it, he lets out a sharp, hungry growl that sends my heart thundering even harder.

But he backs off a step, his eyes tracing me. “Take what you want,” he murmurs, spreading his hands out from his sides in a gesture that’s less surrender and more of a challenge.

I plant a hand on his bare chest and shove him back. Obviously, he moves with me – there’s no way I could physically move this mountain of a man – until the edge of the bed takes him down. He drops onto the mattress, the wicked gleam in his eyes fueling my boldness. This man, this beautiful, drop-dead sexy bad boy, has no idea what he's unleashed within me.

I crawl over him, every move deliberate, and savor the heat and desire in his eyes. This is more thrilling than I could ever have imagined, and I realize I like being in control. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his muscles tensing in anticipation. I position myself above him, ready to claim the length of him.

“Like this?” I ask, letting just the tip of him touch me before moving him away. He groans, playfully annoyed with my antics. But he told me to take what I want, and right now… I want to tease him a little.

I continue teasing, refusing to actually take him, and his muscles flex. His abs tighten, as if he can make me take him with just enough of a curve to his body.

I lower over him, my chest pressing to his, my fingers raking his hair, my gaze locking on his. “Or like this?” I whisper, finally letting him slide into me, feeling that perfect fit that draws a groan from both of us.

“Exactly like this,” he says, his fingers digging into my hips, guiding me.

I ride him, each movement more frantic than the last. It's not just about the physical release—it's me taking charge of my own needs and pleasure in a way I’ve never experienced before. He watches me intently, green eyes darkened with lust, his jaw clenched. The sight of him—so strong, yet so willing to give up control and power – if only for a moment - sends me spiraling toward ecstasy.

“More,” I cry out, not sure what I’m asking for as I chase the feeling of pleasure that’s just out of reach.

“Come for me,” he commands, and the edge in his voice is all it takes.

Pleasure rips through me, a moan tearing from my throat. Beneath me, his body responds in kind, his abs clenching, strain etching his features as he follows me over the edge. Then, as the tremors subside, his expression softens, and there's a moment of peace, a sense of surrender that brings me peace.

The sound of our fast breathing and drumming heartbeats are the only sounds in the silence, and I turn into him, loving his scent, his heat, the way our bodies fit together even now. His fingertips stroke my back, making goose bumps scatter across my flesh. And for a moment, I don’t care if he’s a bad boy, if he’s dangerous, if I’m risking having my heart broken. I’m enjoying the ride. …Literally.

Chapter Four

Lark

I swear I could forget all my problems with enough time spent with her.

Not that that would solve any problems or fix the mess my life has become.

I sit at the bar, wondering if I’ll see her again. Last night had been amazing, and I’d asked her to stay. But she refused, saying she needed to get back so Shana wouldn’t worry about her. I accepted her reason, but felt like there was more to it – more she wasn’t telling me.

As I sip my whiskey, I scan the room, looking for her smile, listening for her laughter, searching for the sense of peace and satisfaction she brings me.

The beauty of paradise means nothing to me now, and the sunshine, volleyball, swimming… it all pales in comparison to spending time with her. I’d rather drink and drown my woes, but I’d hate to miss her thanks to whiskey.

“Another whiskey?” The bartender doesn't wait for an answer. He knows.

“Thanks,” I say with a nod, as he refills my glass. The liquid amber catches the sunlight, shining like gold. I take a sip, letting it burn down my throat, trying to scorch away her taste. But it's no use. I can still smell her, taste her, feel her…. See her. I’m in bad shape – I even dreamed about her. It’s not like me to get hung up over some woman.

But there she is, behind my eyelids, laughing, wrapped up in sheets that smell like sex and sin.

It almost feels like the cheery bright world, sounds of laughter and happiness, the way couples seem to be touching and kissing all around me is just the whole world mocking me. I set the glass down a little too hard and whiskey sloshes over the rim. I need to get ahold of myself.

“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender raises his eyebrows as if he has some idea of the turmoil rolling round and around my mind.

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