Bad Boy’s Baby(55)

And no reason for him to have stolen my favorite pair of black panties!

I rifled through my suitcase and checked under the bed. Gone. God, he was a pervert.

I fumed.

He had it right. He deserved every part of his nickname.

Living with Zach was going to be H-a-r-d.





Chapter Seven – Zach





The mansion had a lot of perks. The gym. The pool. I even got myself a king-sized bed.

But a bed like this wasn’t for sleeping. I could think of much better things to do on it.

But the one woman I wanted in the bed was the one who wanted nothing to do with me while horizontal.

Good thing I was just as proficient when vertical.

I kicked my duffle bag into the closet. This wasn’t a room that deserved a mess on the floor. The bed had eight fucking pillows. Who the hell used that many pillows? Or a quilt that looked like someone stretched and ruined a scarf then tossed it over a corner. They painted the ceiling with cherubs, and mismatched marble and granite in the fireplace.

It was all my mother’s doing, as was most of the décor in the house. If Shay noticed the mansion transitioned from eighteenth century France to nineteenth century Venice, she said nothing. My mother transformed the estate into journey through history. We were lucky she hadn’t require powdered wigs and cummerbunds to enjoy it.

I couldn’t fault her style, even if the bleach in her hair scrambled what she thought looked classy. At least Mom and Darnell had been happy before the end. She wanted a guy with a bottomless wallet to take care of her, and he liked them blonde and pumped full of silicon. Match made in Heaven.

I wished them well and then headed overseas. It wasn’t my place to judge and, hell, I didn’t have time for family. But life had a funny way of trapping you in an ambush and splitting your flesh with two pounds of explosive shrapnel. Fate spoke to me, saying slow down or bleed out. I woke from surgery with my mother talking about diamonds, tulle veils, and destination weddings. Took her two days and one seizure before she asked which of my organs didn’t make it back from Iraq.

Par for the fucking course.

My head pounded. The bed looked good, but so did the stack of weights in the basement gym and the salt-water pool. I needed to do both.

I kicked the pillows off the bed instead.

I didn’t need this luxury. I got used to lying in two inches of standing water and sucking mud in the middle of monsoons. I once laid motionless for twenty-two straight hours in the stinging desert waiting for a target to slip from the hut where the fucker traded children for God-knows-what. And that night was comfortable compared to other assignments.

And now I owned a king-sized bed with a remote that controlled the television, lights, stereo, climate settings, and security systems.

I even had a panic room.

A SEAL.

In a panic room.

Unless an intruder planned on locking me inside of it, the fucker messing with me was in more danger—even while I blinked away headaches.

A headache that was getting worse.

“Fuck it.”

I yanked my shirt over my head and kicked off my boots. Pretty sure there was a hamper somewhere in my room, but damn if I cared.

I collapsed on the bed, feet kicked over the side. Close enough. The migraine came on strong. I clenched my eyes shut, but that didn’t do shit. I flopped over into the remaining pillows and buried my head. That was better. Darker at least. Comfortable.

Except for my namesake.

Christ.

I shifted. My cock didn’t. Hard didn’t begin to describe it.

I spent entirely too much time thinking about Shay, and I wasted even more concocting a crazy excuse for a chance to see her again.

Christ she was pretty when she got mad.

Shay was the kind of beautiful you hallucinated after a blow to the head. And she was the one girl who’d make me swallow my tongue before I thought of something clever to say.

Like…I probably should have told you I was your step-brother before I fucked you. That might have helped. Keeping it secret rubbed her the wrong way…which was ironic since our problems started when I rubbed her the right way.

I couldn’t get her out of my head or the blood out of my cock. I hoped my headache would temper my reaction, but if Shay’s hatred hadn’t swayed me, nothing would.

She didn’t know it yet, but the SEALs trained me for intricate games of cat-and-mouse. I lived for the hunt. And after I caught Shay? I’d make sure she was both stuffed and mounted.

If she didn’t kill me first.

“Get out of my bed.”

Fuck.

The pounding headache only just started to yield. Figured. I gritted my teeth and rolled. Didn’t make it up, but I bluffed anyway. I patted the pillow beside me as my vision cleared.

“You could join me.”

“Are you always such an asshole?”

“Do you always burst into people’s bedrooms uninvited?”

I tucked my arms behind my head. My lovely intruder fumbled with a suitcase packed with more panties than a sexy woman like her ever needed to wear. She was pissed. That only made it more fun. I got off on making everything a war with her. She wound up too easy and exploded with all the subtlety of a grenade.

Last time I checked, she didn’t have that big of a stick up her ass. Still, watching her squirm amused the fuck out of me, even if it ruined my chances to glimpse that perfectly delicious backside.

“This is the master bedroom,” she said.

I grinned. “Didn’t know you were into those types of games.”

She dropped the suitcase. “How dare you take the master bedroom!”

“What’s wrong with this bedroom?”

“It should be…this was my father’s house!”

I tilted my head. “And my mother’s.”

“Don’t you think I should have the master bedroom? This is my house, built with my father’s money.”

Was everything going to be such a fucking pissing contest with her? She wouldn’t give up until I slept in the yard.

I wouldn’t stop until I had her in the bed with me.

But we wouldn’t be sleeping.

“I thought you’d take the room down the hall,” I said. Did she even see the monstrosity her father specifically designed for her? Like a scene from fucking Narnia. “It has a better balcony.”

“I don’t want a balcony. I want the master bedroom. I want you gone. I want—” She groaned, frustrated. “I don’t know what to say to you! You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be. Are you that much of a child?”

“I’m not the one throwing a tantrum because she doesn’t want to share her things.”

She not-so-silently counted to ten. “Zach, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Gotta admit. I’ve never heard a pretty girl say that before.”

“I can’t believe this.” Shay paced the room. “I’ve been here for five minutes and already you’re being a monumental asshole.”

“I was sleeping.”

“I thought this could work. I thought you were serious when you said we’d share this place.”

“What did I do? I was sleeping.”

Shay wove her fingers through her thick, ebony curls.

“This is crazy. I don’t even know you—” She pointed a finger at me. “And if you say anything about knowing me in a biblical way Imma smack that smirk off your face.”

Challenge accepted.

“Come on.” I extended my arms. “Do you really think I’m some big, bad troublemaker out to rob you blind?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think I’m some sexual fiend who will creep on you in the middle of the night?”

Her almond eyes flicked over me. “Probably.”

“Think I’m a dangerous, powerful man who will threaten your pretty little body?”

She stepped closer. Her voice lowered, her best attempt at sounding intimidating. “How would I know?”

Shay was within my arm’s reach. Entirely too close. I could have snatched her in my grasp and thrown her on the bed. If I had my way, I’d bury my face between her mocha legs and lick until I had my fill. She’d tasted like everything perfect—that first bite of summer ice-cream, cake batter straight from the spatula, a sip of forbidden alcohol before I turned twenty-one.

I remembered lapping up her honeyed desire, and it tortured my dreams every night. She was so unbelievably sweet I would have offered my half of the house just to look at that tight little pussy once more.

My jeans dug into my cock. It wasn’t the pressure I wanted. Shay licked her lips. She got flustered when she realized she was staring.

My growl reserved for her and her alone. “You know you have nothing to fear around me.”

“I’m sharing a house with a perfect stranger. It’s wise to be careful.”

“Then let me put your concerns to rest.” My smile wasn’t meant to charm her. It was as much of a warning as my throbbing cock allowed. “I’m not someone you run from. You’re gonna come to me. Just say the word, and I swear, not an inch of your beautiful body would regret climbing into my bed.”

“You’re one cocky son of a bitch.”

“When you have a cock like mine, you get to be a bastard.”

She didn’t argue. Couldn’t argue. She knew I was right. She remembered how it pounded within her, how every frantic thrust and deliberate slam was meant to earn a not-so-innocent mew from her trembling lips.