Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(3)

He chased. I ran.

And it became a wild game that I’d never win.

Nate leaned against the doorway, watching me struggle against my own arousal, irritation, and cowardice—which I easily faked as juggling the wedding materials. He didn’t offer to help. He just watched me.

Amused.

Entertained.

Hungry.

His voice teased with a playful edge, one side a feather, the other as dangerous as a leather flogger. He took the wedding binder from my arms and arched an eyebrow.

“When we have our wedding…?” His grin paralyzed me halfway between indignation and foolish hope. “Promise me we’ll just elope.”





Chapter Two – Nate




Goddamn. Mandy was cute when she got flustered.

She was also beautiful when she was excited. And angry. And irritated. And overwhelmed.

Which was now.

“Our wedding?”

She squeaked over the word. Teasing her was too easy, but I loved hearing that squeal any way I could get it. Whether she stomped her feet and got pissy or whimpered it with her heels over her head, her cry rang like music to my ears.

She huffed like she could read my thoughts, but I never hid what I wanted from Mandy. My desires were as honest as she could imagine.

I thumbed through the wedding binder, but Mandy wrenched it from my hands, nearly slicing my finger on the cheap plastic cover.

“We are not getting married,” she said.

I grinned. “Not with that attitude we aren’t.”

She stormed into her own house, which was as amusing as her ordering me out of it. I ignored her, following her into the kitchen as those plump hips swayed a sultry beat. She meant to stomp. Instead she shimmied, slipped, and then slid across the linoleum in pink socks.

Socks I distinctly remembered.

Socks I told her to keep on while I fucked the blessed hell out of her that night.

I always considered myself a stockings man—thigh high with no mystery. Instead, I chased a girl in pink, polka-dot socks.

But Christ, she was gorgeous, even while she glared at me. If only she realized I could see her perky little nipples pressing against her shirt. Never got a better greeting from her before. I might have complimented her, but sure as sin she’d hide those pebbles from me, and I’d be jerking from memory all over again.

“Don’t make me get on one knee.” I loved to watch her squirm. She did her best to avoid my gaze. “You. Me. A quick getaway to someplace fun. Atlantic City. Vegas. Key West? What do you say?”

Mandy nibbled on her bottom lip, full and plump. She didn’t realize she was the perfect little tease, luring me into a chase.

“Like you’d ever settle down,” she said.

“And if it meant a chance to go down again?”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful reason to get married.”

“Come on. You’re not naive. You know why people really get married.”

“Love? Commitment?”

Maybe she was that naive.

Mandy set her binder on the counter, laying out all the plans for Lindsey’s freak-show of a wedding. I saw a couple trendy ideas that were more expensive than practical, but apparently that’s what people liked to waste time on now.

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe they get married because they want to start a family?”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s all about the wedding night, baby.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So were you.”

I took one step too close. Mandy pushed a finger into my chest, and I grinned as I retreated.

She was a gorgeous little thing—like a wisp of a fairy, dark-skinned and gentle with almond eyes and a skin-tone to match. She was beautiful enough for me to wish I hadn’t already fucked her, if only for a chance to seduce that perfection again.

Almost.

But nothing could make me regret that night.

“Can’t we just be…normal around each other?” she asked.

“I’ve always hit on you, baby. Am I really acting any differently now?”

“Yeah, you’re worse.”

“Only because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She glanced over my shoulder, probably worried someone heard me declare my nefarious intentions. Lindsey pitched a tantrum upstairs. I figured we had another five minutes before the wedding was called off and she’d swear to donate her wedding dress to blind nuns again.

Mandy crossed her arms. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to ask you to marry me.”

“Be serious.”

Serious was no fun. “I wanted to see you.”

“Nate—”

“Are you really going to deny me a second chance to fuck you?”

Mandy snorted. “Watch me, Romeo.”

Good thing I’d loved the chase so much the first time. Now that I knew what I was hunting, I had all the motivation I needed to catch her again.

“You know we were great together,” I said.

“Oh yeah.” Mandy pulled a ginger ale from the fridge. “We fit together a little too well.”

She poured her drink and licked a bead of soda from the edge of the glass. I couldn’t breathe, and my zipper nearly castrated me.

Was it possible to envy a cup?

This fucking woman had no idea what she did to me.

I grinned. “I know I can be intimidating—”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a little full of yourself.”

“You liked being full of me.”

“For the love of—”

“Five times…if I remember. You loved it five times.”

“Six.” She took no joy in correcting me, probably because she knew it’d become another record for me to break. “You know…there’s more important things in this world than sex?”

“Nothing’s more important than sex.”

“There’s weddings. And family. And responsibilities.”

I shrugged. “I manage my own business.”

“You brew beer.”

She meant it as an insult. At least I was used to that sort of judgment. A few years ago, that regrettable life decision finally made me enough money to justify not going to college or following in Pastor Kensington’s footsteps, no matter what my father wished for me.

“It’s a microbrewery and bar. And it’s a successful one. What’s more fun than that?”

“Exactly. Life is all fun and games to you. You don’t take anything seriously.”

“You don’t begrudge a chef making a sandwich when he’s on the clock.” I held my arms out. “I’m a master craftsman, baby.”

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?” She teased me with the word. “A craftsman?”

Yeah, said the magazine article and two blogger interviews I did for my pub, Arrogance.

I shrugged. “I think it sounds more impressive than entrepreneur.”

“Last I heard, you were known as the man who never calls or that asshole with the big…” She glanced at the bulge in my pants. “Ego.”

“You can say it.” I grinned as she ignored me. “Cock.”

“I wasn’t going to give you the pleasure.”

“You have no idea how much pleasure you gave me.” I lowered my voice. “Still think about it?”

“No.”

“I still think about you.”

“Stop.”

She acted like it was just another pick-up line. If only she knew I was being honest. It’d shock her as much as it surprised me.

I went to sleep dreaming of her—how her gorgeous, honey-colored eyes had stared at me, half-lidded and begging for more. Her full and fuckable lips had parted, and her hips arched for me to take her harder, deeper.

I never treated Mandy like another score. I’d chased her a bit in high-school and when she went to college because it was fun to watch her stammer and squirm. I never expected I’d actually seduce her, and I fully anticipated the mistake we’d made.

But the only thing that changed was me.

Mandy hadn’t approached me again, and I was the one drooling like an idiot over her memory. I never went back for seconds with a girl. Ever. I took a vow to myself. No sense getting greedy when it would threaten me with dates, long-term commitments, and finding those damn hair scrunchies on my bathroom counter.

But for a second night with Mandy? I’d risk falling asleep beside her just to wake up and share a breakfast and sunrise.

I’d never let myself get that close to another woman…so why could I imagine it so clearly with her?

I probably needed a good fuck. Something to take my mind off this unbelievably gorgeous woman who acted like our night together hadn’t completely changed her life.

Mandy’s glass thudded on the table. She leaned over the counter. I felt bad for her. The wedding planning must have exhausted her. No wonder she was cranky, but I couldn’t figure out why she tensed, ready to bolt from the room. I wasn’t that bad of company, and every girl liked to be teased.

Her scowl wasn’t the reaction I wanted. I preferred her gasping in a toe-clenching, spine-shattering orgasm, but at least she was talking to me today.

“Why are you really here?” she asked.

“Trying on the tux,” I said.

“Oh.”

“Wanna watch?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

I winked. “You can help me take it off.”

Pretty sure she’d rip off my pants to twist them in a knot around my neck, but her touch was worth possible asphyxiation.

“Mandy!” Lindsey bellowed from upstairs. Knowing Lindsey, her shoes were probably crafted from some sort of endangered reptile, but they still galloped like hooves down the stairs. “What’s taking so long? We’re on a schedule!”