Bad Boy’s Baby(64)

He constantly trained during his leave. I asked why his time off was so long. Apparently, he had a special arrangement. I figured it had something to do with his scars, but Zach did everything he could to avoid talking about those.

Zach finished a set of one-armed push-ups and toweled off, pausing his show.

“Tonight, Chef Orlando is preparing our dinner,” he said. “His representative says he’s known for his Latin influences. I thought tomorrow we’d let the Japanese-inspired chef take a turn, though I think you’re pretty set on Chef Vito.” He winked. “I won’t be upset if you say his spaghetti was better than mine.”

I gave a timid shrug. “His was a bit more…professional.”

“That’s why I’m paying him the big bucks.”

I smirked. Zach took the initiative and braved my wrath. He hired a chef, maids, and landscapers for the estate. I couldn’t argue. Suddenly, everything operated a lot smoother, cleaner, and our dinners were always on time. Money made things so much easier.

Except when no amount of money could buy a chance to achieve your life’s ambition. If I couldn’t buy a pallet of luck, maybe I’d send a personal assistant to appeal to the Dean instead.

“What’s wrong?” Zach lowered the chef’s menu. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I shook my head. “No. I just…I gotta…”

The slightest curl of his finger called me to the couch. I dropped next to him. He made a show of wrapping his arm over my shoulders and crossing his feet on the ottoman. I didn’t care how arrogant it was. It felt nice to be held. Hugged.

I curled against his chest and let myself mope for a long moment.

“That bad?” He asked.

“Worse.”

“Wanna talk about it? I’ve had my share of bad days.”

I bit my lip. “No. I’ll take care of it.”

“Shay. I want to help.”

Why did I believe him? I sighed. “I lost the student teaching position.”

“What?”

“My advisor and the teacher knew each other. They set it up deliberately, just to ruin me. My advisor thinks I was buying my way through the program.”

“That’s bullshit! Can you get a new position?”

“No. It’s a pass/fail credit. If my advisor hates me—which she does—she can screw me. I can’t do anything, the grades are up to her. And if the school doesn’t want me…”

“We can fight it.”

“I’ll have to transfer.”

“Advisors?”

I shook my head. “Colleges.”

“No way.”

“Sweeten will never pass me. I can’t get another teaching opportunity at the Academy, and she’ll never get another assignment. I have to transfer to another college…if my credits even count.” I pushed off the couch. Zach took my hand and pulled me down. “I gotta go take care of this.”

“You’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Let this simmer for a day. Maybe there’s something we can do. We’ll find a way to change your advisor and get you a new gig. It’s not over. Don’t worry.”

My lip trembled. I didn’t believe him. I sucked in a breath and tried to imagine anything else. Puppies. Good food. My favorite movie. My favorite kiss.

That one was easy. It was every kiss I ever had with Zach.

I’d have given anything to pretend that Zach wasn’t my step-brother, if only so I could lose myself in his arms for just a little while.

Bad ideas. All of it.

“What are you thinking?” Zach asked.

Nothing I could answer honestly. Too bad the lump in my throat was just as painful to talk about.

“I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” I said. “Life goal.”

“You’ll get there.”

“And if I don’t? One bad professor today could be one awful administration tomorrow and one demented school board a year from now. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I wanted to be there for the kids.”

“Why?”

“In case no one else was there for them.”

His arm tightened over me. I sighed.

“When I was little, Momma was always yelling, and Dad was usually off with some new floozy on the side. They were both miserable, and they took it out on each other. And I was in the middle. Alone.”

Zach toyed with my curls. “Yeah. I get that.”

“When I got older, I realized instead of feeling sorry for myself, I could prevent a child from feeling that same way. I wanted them to know they were loved. What better way than to be a teacher?”

“You’ll make a good one.”

“And if it never happens?” I said.

“It will.”

“You never know.” I held his gaze. “What happens if everything you ever worked for in your entire life is suddenly…gone? Completely out of your control. Nothing you can do to prevent it?”

Now Zach looked uncomfortable. He shifted against the couch. I pulled away.

“Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t lay this all on you. I know what you’re gonna say. And you’re right. Look at my bank account. Why should I teach when I could have a home in the Maldives? I get it.”

His jaw tensed. His dimples faded. “No. Some things you can’t buy with money. Look, Shay. I don’t have an answer for you because I don’t know. You can train and spend your life thinking things are gonna work out. And then?” He flexed. The scars over his arms shimmered in the faint light. “It can all be over.”

“Zach—”

“It won’t be that way for you,” he said. “I won’t allow it to go down like that.”

I sighed. “It’s sweet, but I gotta do this on my own.”

“Why?”

“It’s…my job. My career.”

He didn’t let me look away. “You know you aren’t alone. Not now.”

My heart fluttered a bit too hard. I swallowed.

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“So you don’t need any help now?”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

His voice edged. Apparently, other parts of him could get hard too. His words. His dedication. His promises. “And if I want to protect you?”

The conversation shifted. I bit my lip. We weren’t talking about teaching or life goals or insecurities anymore. We broached a very dangerous subject, and stress already kicked my butt from one side of the county to the other. I didn’t have the strength to fight him too.

“What do you want from me?” I asked. “Really.”

“A chance.”

“To get in bed with me?”

“That and more.”

Bed didn’t scare me as much as more. I had been resisting our fling for so long, I never once questioned the pounding of my heart over the tightening in my core.

“It’s not a good idea,” I said.

“Says who?”

Society? No. That wasn’t true. We made for dirty gossip, but nothing else. Our families? That was a joke. Neither of us had one anymore. We were as much family as anyone.

Says Me?

I thought it was a bad idea to trust a man who lied the first night we were together—either to get lucky or get money. Both reasons were equally bad, but neither seemed to fit Zach. Hell, I started to think the only reason he lived at the estate was for the pool.

Or because I lived here.

My blood scalded me, still heated from the last time I touched him, the last time I let him touch me. The pool jet wasn’t half as exciting as his hands.

“One chance, Shay.” Zach’s voice was the whipped, creamy topping to my mocha grace. “That’s all I ask.”

“You’re my step-brother.”

“Baby, no one’s gonna see the family resemblance.”

His lips touched mine. Tenderly. More a question for me to answer than a permission for him to continue. His calloused hands touched my cheek. He was right. Together, we looked like any other couple. Dark and light, petite and strong, timid and flirty.

I knew what I wanted.

I also knew it was quite possibly the worst idea I had since the day I antagonized my advisor.

But now—with the lights low and Zach’s touch, his gentle kiss and my horrid day—a little attention sounded good.

Right.

Perfect with him.

Besides, my body wouldn’t have listened to my head anyway. Not after he touched me.

Held me.

Pulled me into his lap.

I groaned and almost exposed everything I tried to keep hidden from him. So much for scolding myself into chastity. If a kiss revealed my deepest desires, then the flick of my tongue invited him into my darkest fantasies, tied his ass to a chair, and whispered every naughty secret I ever imagined into his ear.

I straddled his lap, threading my fingers behind his neck. His hair, blonde and buzzed, tickled under my touch. During our one night together, our time was experienced in frantic and desperate intensity. We didn’t savor or explore. Each second spent parted from the other was a pleasure lost.

I had no idea I’d eventually end up in his lap again. I never expected the warmth of his lips on my throat. I hadn’t hoped for his powerful fingers to unbutton my blouse.

I dreamed of him. Of parts of him. Of the greatest fullness and most deliberate lust ever gifted to me.

And now? I had him again. And he was the man I remembered.

Strong. Charming.

And—above all else…