Page 51 of Bad For A Weekend

Nope. Not happening. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to because whatever the next words out of her mouth are will have me questioning my resolve. I can feel it.

I stand. “Let’s talk tomorrow. We’ve had enough excitement for the day.”

She grabs my hands to stop me, still on her knees, and fuck me. The number of times I’ve fantasized about Baylor on her knees before me is immeasurable. She’s eighteen. I’m thirty-two and her bodyguard. What the hell am I doing?

“Wait. Just listen.”

I tug on her hands, battling a war I’m not sure I want to win anymore. “Get up, Baylor.”

“No. Just hear me out,” she pleads, and I sigh. “You’re a good guy, right?”

“Spit it out. I’m tired.”

“Fine, don’t answer because I already know. You are. You’re the guy who sets out to change the world. You want to leave everything and everyone in a better place than you found them. The one time that didn’t happen, it nearly broke you, so I’ll answer it for myself. You are a good guy, Owen Rollins. The best, from what I can tell.”

Her words are a seed that digs its way deep into my soul, sprouting and bringing beauty to the place that has been a wasteland for four years now. Other people in my life have made similar claims: the President when he awarded me the Presidential Citizens Medal for the bravery I showed that day at the high school, the students and staff who reached out to thank me for what I did, my parents—though I’m not sure they count—and now, this beautiful girl on her knees in front of me.

“Baylor.”

“I’m not done.” She stands, though I’m still at a height advantage since she doesn’t quite reach my shoulders. “I’ll say it again. You’re a good guy. But being good all the time is boring.”

I huff with mild amusement at the turn in the conversation.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” she says.

“I’m fun.”

“When?” She grins. “When are you fun?”

“I went to the bar with my brother that one time, remember? That was fun.”

“You were home by ten.” She pins me with a knowing look that I can’t argue. “So, my proposition is this, I think you should be bad for the weekend.”

I quirk a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.” She bites her lip. “And I think you should be bad with me.”

Baylor

“You want me to get drunk at a bar with you tomorrow? Because I already told you, that’s not happening,” he says.

I take a deep breath, gaining the courage to go on. I’ve thought about this a lot, and if Owen can let his guard down for five seconds, he’d realize this will be good for both of us.

“No, but we’ll revisit that tomorrow.”

“Then what do you mean by you want me to be bad for a weekend?”

This is it. The moment when we both get what we want, or the moment things will get really freaking awkward until Owen doesn’t work for us anymore.

“You want me,” I say, and he pulls away but I don’t let that stop me. “And I want you.”

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Yet you know I’m right.”

“Even if you are, it doesn’t matter. It can’t happen.”

I close the distance between us. “I want you, Owen. Not just for the weekend.” He tries to interrupt me, but I cover his mouth. “I know that can’t happen. I’m not blind to our obstacles. So, what I’m proposing is you give me the weekend.”

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