Page 29 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

She excused herself and strolled to the other side of the boat, where several of the guests stood in hopes of taking better shots. He stood, watching her go. What would their relationship be like once their time together ended? An annoying shiver zapped down his spine, and he squared his shoulders.

She’d go back to being Zaine’s little sister. And he’d go back to his life. Finito.

What if she doesn’t patch things with her ex? She and Nico shared a palpable chemistry, and she was someone he surprisingly enjoyed spending time with out of the bedroom. He thrust his hand into his hair. Nah. She deserved more, and he’d be a bastard for not giving it to her. Hell, Zaine would hate him—as open-minded as he was, she was his sister, and he didn’t want her to be miserable because of an older bastard like Nico. A man with baggage.

“American?” said an older man, tapping the railing of the boat. He wore a white shirt and gray khakis, his accent hinting at a Boston accent.

“Italian, but live in Los Angeles.”

The man coughed. “Nice. Honeymooning?” he said, pointing in the direction she’d gone. Maybe he’d watched them interact, and Nico hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings.

“Me?” He waved it off, chuckling at the irony. He almost told the truth, which would certainly shock the elderly stranger. Why would he? He hadn’t shared about the deal even to Marco. He’d never betray Emma’s trust, and he doubted she’d want anyone to know. “No.”

The man touched his balding head, then sized him up. “A lot of people honeymoon in this area. I’m giving myself a world tour of my favorite places while I still can.”

“Sounds like a great way to enjoy retirement.”

The man coughed again, and Nico wondered if he had a cold or if it was a more serious illness. “It’s the only way I’ve got. Seventy-five years old, never married. No kids or grandkids to call me on the weekends.”

A lump lodged in Nico’s throat. “Friends?”

“Yeah. At my age, a few of them already died.”

Discomfort kept Nico from talking. What did he have to say? To most people, traveling the world didn’t come across as a burden—no matter what their age. Having a spouse or grandchildren didn’t equal happiness. Hell, he knew enough people who had fulfilling lives without marriage and kids.

Then why did the man look at the ocean with such regret washing over his expression? He squinted his gray eyes, a few creases forming in his forehead. Nico didn’t know if he wanted to give him a friendly tap on his shoulder or leave him the hell alone.

“I’ve seen how you look at your girlfriend,” the man said, removing his glasses and cleaning them with an old-fashioned linen handkerchief from his pocket. “While everyone was watching the dolphins, you kept your attention on her.”

“She’s pretty,” he said, deciding to downplay the man’s invasive remarks. Maybe he didn’t have a lot of friends and just spoke whatever was on his mind with whoever happened to be close. Pretty? The word didn’t even begin to describe Emma, but he refused to sound like a smitten fool in front of a complete stranger.

“Pretty, huh?” The man gave him a knowing smile, then drummed his fingers on the railing one more time, as if he’d come to a realization. “All right. Good luck with everything,” he said, before walking away.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Emma said, glancing at the many options of adult entertainment toys. “I mean, I’ve been to bachelorette parties, but this place takes it to a whole new level,” she said, circling her index finger in the air.

He’d taken her to the store, because if she really wanted anal sex at some point, they needed to be prepared—it’s not like the hotel convenience store sold that type of stuff. The next day, they’d finally meet Desmorais for lunch when hopefully he’d plead his case and make an offer.

Colorful aisles of toys and sex enhancement devices for men and women crowded the store, where only a handful of people browsed. He’d kept Emma by his side at all times, ready to punch the first bastard who said anything inappropriate to her. Where did this possessiveness come from?

From being Zaine’s sister, he told himself. Of course, it made complete sense.

She carried a small basket, where they’d added a couple of tubes of lube. They neared the anal devices aisle, and he grabbed a probe from the shelf, studying the box.

“What’s that?” she asked, inching closer.

“A little something for fun.”

She grabbed the box from him, her eyes reaching her hairline. An adorable wave of red stained her cheeks. “Oh. This is for my—”

“Yes.”

“I’ll trust the connoisseur.” She tossed it into the basket, and they strolled side by side. Ever since she’d confessed wanting to try back entrance, the fantasy had assailed him more than a few times. The idea of having her on all fours, and him thrusting into her tight hole, prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. “Tell me, what do women do when you blow them off? Do they buy an emotional support peacock or go to intensive therapy?”

“What do you mean?”

She picked a double vibrator from the shelf, frowned at it, then put it back where it belonged. “Well, let’s be honest. You’re a billionaire, you look hot as sin, and you screw like a pro. So despite all your spiel about not wanting anything serious, don’t any of them ever think they’re the mighty one who will break those carefully built walls?”

“Usually not.”

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