Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(6)

“I’d love something sweet too.” I grinned, even as she tried to choke me. “Creamy.”

“We’re done here.” Mandy pulled away before I could capture her lips in a kiss. Next time I wouldn’t be so slow. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Nate.”

“Baby, we wouldn’t get any sleep.”

“I’m serious. I need space. I can’t handle the wedding preparation and work and my family and…you at the same time.”

I loosened the tie, imagining how beautiful she’d look with it binding her hands over her head. But then she couldn’t touch me, couldn’t wrap around me.

Other girls might have made it interesting, but I wanted to be held, caressed, and fucked by Mandy as much as I planned to do the same to her.

I stared at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her back into a smile. “Something about you is irresistible to me now.”

“That’s because you can’t have me.”

“That’s not it. I already had you. I should be satisfied.”

Mandy’s mouth popped open. “I didn’t satisfy you?”

I laughed. “You did more than that. I’ve never had a fuck like you. I don’t think I will again until I lay you down and get those panties off. So fair warning, baby. Once isn’t enough. It will never be enough. You’re a sweet addiction, but there’s no vice in wanting you. The only sin would be denying what we need.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea the trouble it will cause.”

“The only thing I love more than trouble is a good fuck.” And the only thing better than a good fuck was doing it again. I loosened the tie and tossed it onto the bed. She was lucky I didn’t lay her down next to it. “I’m not going to stop until I take you again.”

“And then what?”

I should have shown her. She baited me, like she didn’t believe how badly I ached to fill her.

The only way she’d understand was if I took her again, but I wasn’t a man to beg. Next time, she’d come to me, and I’d reward her for every second of her bravery.

“And then I’ll fuck you until you realize you never should have run.”





Chapter Three – Mandy




Coconut cake.

Why did it have to be coconut cake?

Even the chocolate wasn’t sitting right. Or the marble. Or the carrot.

Or the water. The air. The car ride to the cake tasting.

Morning sickness came at all times of the day, and it didn’t mix well with the apprehension of holding the cake tasting at Nate’s pub, Arrogance. Of course he graciously volunteered his bar for a private event, opening the doors before his regular hours.

He did it to see me. He wasn’t giving up.

And I might have been flattered if it weren’t for the secret hanging over my head.

Mom wasn’t happy about being seen in a bar before nightfall, but the ivory balloons and flowers Nate used to decorate was a stroke of genius. She overlooked the dark woods, leather seats, and huge selection of specialty brews on tap because he pampered Lindsey.

For that, I supposed I could be nice too. Except I had no idea what to do while he leaned against his bar. The green-eyed miscreant offered me a seat at the counter, close to him. He wanted to sample the sweets together.

That only made the nausea worse.

My life wasn’t flashing before my eyes anymore; it was hurling into the toilet as discreetly as I could hide it without my family assuming I was pregnant. Of course, when Mom heard me at home, she patted my cheek with an encouraging good job.

At least I could please my mother with a fictitious eating disorder. God forbid we had a size-ten bridesmaid.

Curves were for roads, not strapless dresses.

But coconut didn’t have a place in my life before I got pregnant. Now it exacted some sort of tropical revenge for every disparaging remark I ever made about the nut.

Fruit?

Hellspawn.

The flakes crusting the top of the cake squeaked over my teeth. I took one bite, shuddered as the stringy flecks lodged in my throat, and tried to choke it down.

My stomach flipped.

This wasn’t good.

“What do we all think?” Mom clapped her hands. “Write it down. Come on, quickly now. We have two dozen more cake samples to go.”

Now my stomach flopped.

Twenty more pieces of cake? I couldn’t even watch Food Network this morning. Who the hell inflicted this type of torture on their family or local bakery?

Lindsey slapped my arm. “You aren’t writing anything down! I need your input! This is the most important decision for the reception!”

She’d said the same for the music, the venue, the dress…

I blinked, staring at the grid paper in front of me. The cake samples were labeled numerically, and a dozen columns stretched across the page. Each box held a specific set of criteria for judgment—decorations, flavor, color, texture, consistency, sweetness, frosting thickness, exclusivity, trendiness, melt-ability, memorability, champagne compliments, and how likely the flavor profile would match Lindsey’s chosen wedding theme, Fairytales in Heaven.

I wondered if I could add my own—how fun it’d be to smoosh in my sister’s face.

But Lindsey handed us tiny pencils without erasers, so I had to behave. Mom smacked my wrist as I tried to doodle in a score.

“Don’t hold your pencil like that, you’ll give yourself arthritis. Men don’t like gangly hands.”

This was why I typed everything, but Mom said I’d get a hunch back from the keyboard anyway. I gritted my teeth. The frustration swirled in my stomach. I stood up too fast.

“Where are you going?” Lindsey pointed her pencil at me. “Eat the damn cake, Mandy! I can’t do this without you!”

“I just…” Words nauseated me too. “Bathroom. Mark a big no for me on the coconut.”

Lindsey dropped her fork. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

I shimmied from the table, easing as far from the reeking cake as I could manage without drawing suspicion. “I didn’t like that one.”

“So you’re completely disregarding the other eleven sections of criteria because you don’t like the flavor? We can’t ignore how perfectly this cake would match the dress! It looked heavenly!”

Bryce shrugged. “We can order the other cakes to be white and coconut, babe.”

“For the last time!” Lindsey burst into tears. “It’s ivory!”

Nate couldn’t resist making my life harder. “Wait…you actually wanted us to score this, Linds?”

He pointed me to the bathroom while Lindsey raged. I slammed the door behind me as my sister’s wail turned into a threat to shove the rest of the cakes down Nate’s throat.

Coconut tasted as bad coming up as it did going down. I did the best I could and tried to keep quiet. At least the bar’s bathrooms were surprisingly clean. I remembered Nate’s disaster of a bedroom from when we were kids. At least he grew up and started taking care of his property.

It almost gave me…hope?

Sitting punked out on a bar’s bathroom floor gave a woman a lot to think about.

This wasn’t rock bottom yet, but it wasn’t far under my tush. If I wanted to hide the pregnancy, I’d have to stop getting sick so often or come up with a better excuse. I’d only get a couple days’ mileage out of the stomach flu. After that, I’d have to be more creative. Food poisoning. Dysentery? Once I used all the illnesses I could remember from playing The Oregon Trail, maybe I’d pretend I was shooting up. My family would probably accept drug use over an unexpected, unwed pregnancy.

Especially since Nate was…not like the Prescotts or Washingtons.

If our families weren’t pleased that Nate abandoned his calling to open a microbrewery and bar, they definitely wouldn’t like that we accidentally mixed pale ale with a dark stout.

Not that Nate would take the news well either, though I didn’t think it’d matter to him what color the baby was…just that it was his.

He hadn’t stopped chasing me, and I couldn’t get his scent out of my head—that rich, hoppy masculine tease that followed him from the pub. I barely survived walking in on him, bare-chested and trying on his tuxedo. For the past two days I suffered through hormone-induced nights of alternating weeping and unrelenting horniness.

I was a mess, and his green eyes and cocky smile were equal parts dangerous and tempting. Slipping into bed with him would probably soothe my nerves, and it wasn’t like I could get more pregnant.

Right?

But it would be a mistake, and I knew it. The warmth that once centered in my core had spread, and I was afraid it’d find its way to my heart. Nate pursued me for the wrong reasons, but his words layered in sensuality and honesty, as if he actually wanted more than that one night with me.

The greatest danger in the world wasn’t falling for the wrong man—it was letting him catch me after I fell head over heels.

How long could I hide the baby from him? Nate wasn’t stupid—and I constantly underestimated the muscle-bound trouble-maker. Even he’d notice if I looked like I swallowed a basketball.

I had to tell him.

It was the right thing to do.

Really, it was the only thing I had to do. If Nate knew about the baby, he could help me prepare. More importantly, he could help me keep the secret until after the wedding.