Bad Boy's Bridesmaid: A Secret Baby Romance (17 page)

“I think you’re
scared.”

I smirked. “I’ve
already had sex with you, Nate. A couple times. I can’t be scared of that
anymore.”

“Maybe you’re
scared because you like it.”

“I think you
know I do.”

“Sure, I’ve
figured it out.” He dropped closer to me. Was he always this warm? I stared at
his lips as he whispered. “But you’re worried about admitting it.”

“Okay. I admit
it. I like having sex with you.” I shook my head. “Now what?”

“We do it again.
And again. And again.” His lips touched mine, the tiniest graze. “And you’ll
like it more and more each time.”

“This is why
you’re dangerous to me. You make sex sound so…easy.”

He smiled. “It
is.”

“And good.”

His voice
rumbled. “It’s very good.”

“And simple.”

“I’m a simple
man, baby. I gotta have air to breathe, food to eat, and you for everything
else.”

His kiss was as
sweet as his words.

“You shouldn’t
say things like that,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I might start
believing you.”

His hand caressed
my cheek. “You should. I’m telling you the truth. When I say I want you…” He
kissed me again, his tongue flicking mine. “I want you. When I say you’re
beautiful.” He brushed the hair from my face. “I mean you’re the most gorgeous
woman I’ve ever seen. And when I say I can’t stop thinking about you…”

His hand drifted
along my hip. I imagined him touching low on my belly, where the baby rested.

I wished he
might have done it.

“It means you’re
the only girl I’ve wanted since I took you that first time.” His eyes flashed a
deep and genuine green. “Mandy, I haven’t fucked anyone else since we hooked up
two months ago. No one else could compare.”

Oh.

I wasn’t ready
for that. For him. For his kiss or his touch or his honesty. He pulled the
pillow away, or maybe I tossed it to the side. It didn’t matter. My arms
circled his neck, and I surrendered to him.

His hands
tickled my sides, aiming for my jeans. I didn’t protest as his zipper tugged
down or my pants came off, but I searched him for any hint, any indication of
what he expected.

Or what I
expected.

“What happens
after this?” I whispered. “When we’ve had each other again?”

“There you go,
worrying about the future.” His touch silenced me, brushing his fingers along
the warmth pooling between my legs. “I’m going to make sure you focus on
right
now
. Don’t worry about what happens later.”

“It’s
important.”

“Not as
important as this.”

I gasped as his
hardness pressed against my core. The slickness should have shamed me, but we
were beyond embarrassment or surprise at our reaction for the other.

I wanted him. He
wanted me.

And maybe I
should have thought only of that moment.

Just of me and
him.

Together
.

He thrust inside
me, and my delighted cry echoed with his determined grunt. The strength of his
body ached me with such a perfect and wonderful power, something that built and
swayed and controlled me with the demands of his movement.

It was a bad
idea to let him get this close. Every thrust heated me beyond control, and
every wave of pleasure teased me with the thought of more than just this short
time with him.

I envisioned a
dozen moments leading to a handful of days then a span of weeks and finally the
joy that could be the rest of our lives.

I don’t know
when it happened, but my feelings for him grew until they were no longer a
simple crush. Every time I welcomed him deep within me, my addiction to him
strengthened. He was the wrong man who might have given me the right things. I
couldn’t risk losing his touch, his kiss, this amazingly
full
feeling.

So I didn’t
think of the future. Nothing of the baby or the wedding or even what I’d say
after I gave myself to him again.

I welcomed the
simplicity and wove myself deeper into the knot I cast.

And I wondered if
I’d ever be able to unravel it.

I was pretty certain
I’d slept with the stripper.

We lived in a
small town, and not many people escaped to the bigger cities. I couldn’t
remember her name, but I recognized the tattoo. She had a tribal band inked
over her bicep.

I’d liked it
then. Now I wasn’t sure what I saw in her. The ink marred what should have been
beautiful skin.

Now Mandy…she had
beautiful skin. Smooth. Dark. Soft…

Too bad she
wasn’t performing.

The stripper did
her dance. The guys at the bar hooted.

Rick did his
best to offer Bryce the same excitement Lindsey demanded from her bachelorette
party, but Bryce refused the night out and opted for a couple drinks in my bar.

I wasn’t sure he
tasted them. He had five beers before he said a single word, and he wasn’t too
excited about the stripper. The guys thought she was pretty, and all women who
glued tassels to their nipples had an entertaining quality about them, but
Bryce wasn’t interested.

Then again, neither
was I.

The stripper was
once my type—fake and blonde—but she didn’t do it for me this time.

Son of a bitch,
I knew why.

She wasn’t
Mandy
.

She didn’t have
her curves. Didn’t share that innocent quirk in her smile. Didn’t have the
gentle swell of her breasts.

She didn’t have
her laugh. Her sense of humor. The tinkling little sing-song inflection to her
words.

I closed my eyes
and tried to remember fucking the stripper. Couldn’t.

All I pictured
was Mandy, and it was a damn good memory. I remembered the first time I took
her, I still fantasized about that night under the stars, and I relived those perfect
hours on her couch when I forgot to breathe, to think, to do anything but stare
in her eyes as we moved together in a perfect embrace.

What the hell was
wrong with me?

I never liked it
gentle
before, and suddenly I was…making love?

Jesus, I needed
to shotgun a couple beers too.

I broke out a
new brew I’d saved specifically for the bachelor party. Bryce liked the darker
ales, and I made a recipe in his honor. I raised the glass, and the dozen
friends we invited to join the festivities readied for a toast.

I grinned.
“Bryce, man, I just wanted to say—”

Bryce chugged his
beer without waiting.

The fuck? If I
knew he wasn’t going to taste it, I’d have fermented motor oil for his fucking party.

Rick shrugged.
He held his glass towards his brother. “To…Bryce.”

Bryce was my
best friend, and I wasn’t about to deny him getting drunk at his own party, but
I pulled the pitcher away before he drank all of it and destroyed his liver
three weeks before the wedding.

Rick passed him
a glass as the stripper packed up her clothes. She blew Bryce a kiss. He didn’t
react, just stared at the table and clutched his beer.

“Wish you hadn’t
gotten a stripper,” Bryce finally said.

I smirked.
“Isn’t it tradition?”

“You’re killing
me.”

“Don’t tell me
Lindsey forbade a stripper?”

“So what if she
did?” Rick snorted. I didn’t like his tone. “I think a woman’s got a right to
know where her man’s been, right, Nate?”

Jesus, whatever.
I took a drink, but Rick didn’t break his stare with me. Bryce shook his head.

“It’s not that.
I just didn’t want any…temptation.” He waved a hand. “No.
Inspiration
.”

Now he had me
confused, which wasn’t too hard. I didn’t understand most of the bullshit Bryce
put up with to please his bridezilla.

“Look…” Bryce
lowered his voice. “Lindsey and I haven’t…you know…for about a month.”

There wasn’t
enough beer in my bar to talk about our feelings. Rick and I both tensed. It
was so much easier when we were kids and could just play Halo to pass the time.

“You haven’t had
sex?” Rick cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t that the
point of having a committed relationship? I frowned. “Why?”

“Lindsey wants
to try for kids
now
. She stopped taking her pill and is, um…
ready
.”

Rick and I eased
away from the table. Bryce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So…” I drummed
my fingers against my beer bottle. “Good?”

Bryce yelled,
nearly tipping over the pitcher. “What do you mean
good
? For Christ’s
sake, we aren’t even married yet! She’s planning what color to paint a nursery,
and I’m still trying to figure out how to do a dance from a movie that came out
before we were born
.”

“You’re getting
married,” I said. “So she wants kids? Have some kids.”

“Easy for you to
say.” Rick snorted into his beer. “You’ve never had a relationship last long
enough for the condom to dry out.”

Fuck, what was
with all these people judging my sex life lately?

Rick was lucky he
was tipsy. That fourth beer saved him from a serious discussion with my fucking
fist.

“We’re not
talking about me,” I said. “Bryce and Lindsey have been together since high
school. I think it’s safe to say they’re in a place where kids
aren’t a
problem.”

“Kids aren’t
the
problem.” Bryce finished his beer. Rick poured him another. He had earned it.
“I don’t know. It’s overwhelming. First all this wedding stuff. We’re never
going to make the money back we put in. Now she wants the kids and the house
and…she’s got all these
plans
.”

I still didn’t
see the problem. “You scored the girl of your dreams. She’s excited about
marrying you. She wants to spend her life with you. What the hell is wrong with
that?”

“Are you
serious?” Bryce laughed. “
You’re
the one talking me into this shit?
Christ, I thought you’d tell me to run.”

“Don’t you love
Lindsey?”

“Well, fuck,
yeah. But—”

“Then shut your
damn mouth. You got a beautiful woman who wants nothing more than to be with
you. She wants to buy a perfect house and pop out some kids. So, drink your
beer, go home, fuck your fiancé, and live out your goddamned fairy tale.”

I slammed my
glass on the table. Jesus. Life wasn’t this complicated. Why did everyone make
it harder than it was? He had a girl who wanted him. He was fucking
lucky
.

Rick followed me
to the bar. Both Washington brothers were acting shitty.

“Since when did
you become the relationship guru?” Rick didn’t open the bottle I offered.

“Since everyone
keeps asking me my opinion.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah.
Apparently I’m some sort of sage now.” I arched an eyebrow. “Bet you wished you
had listened about Jada when I told you she hit on me.”

Rick snorted.
“I’m surprised you didn’t take her up on it like the other assholes who fucked
my wife.”

“You really
think I’d have done that to you?”

“I got no reason
to doubt you when a girl is confused.”

“Jada wasn’t
confused
.
She went grinding on any dick she could find.”

“I’m not talking
about Jada.”

Who the hell
were
we talking about?

Christ. I knew
where this was going, and I wasn’t discussing it with her best friend.

“Think carefully
about what you’re going to say,” I said.

I figured a
doctor would be smarter when confronting a man about his own business. Guessed
not.

“I don’t want
you hanging around Mandy,” Rick said. “You leave her alone.”

“Did you give
Mandy this same talk?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well it didn’t
work.”

Rick clenched
his jaw. “She’s like a sister to me, and you’re like a second brother. But, if
it comes down to it, she’s more vulnerable than you. I won’t let her get hurt.”

“Who said I’m
going to hurt her?”

“You fucked her.
You keep chasing her.”

“So?”

“You tell Bryce
all those nice things—love the woman, get married, have the kids. That’s what
Mandy wants too. If that’s not your game, then bow out before she gets hurt.”

“Mandy’s a big
girl. She can handle herself.”

“She shouldn’t
have to. You should know better than to prey on her.”

“
Prey
?”

“You’re not her
type. She’s not your usual bimbo. Mandy deserves more than your selfish fucking.”
Rick scowled. “Think beyond your cock for once. Ruin your own life, but don’t
screw up hers.”

Rick returned to
his brother, calling an Uber and forcing water down Bryce’s throat before he
blacked out.

Think beyond my
cock?

Right now I was
thinking with my fists.

Fuck him.

If I wanted to
chase Mandy, I’d do it. And I’d take her again and again because I knew what
she liked and why she needed it more than some plan for the future.

Mandy shouldn’t
have worried about relationships and commitments and marriages and all the shit
that came with it. That girl was wound tighter now than the first time I fucked
her, and the only way to calm her down was to fuck her into a puddle of
pleasure.

Then fuck her
some more.

And I’d be the
one to do it.

I slammed the
door to my office. So much for the party. Good thing I had work to do.

Beers tended to
brew themselves once I had them in the storage tank, but I had yeast to grow,
grains to mash, and orders to fill. The brewery was successful enough to employ
two people plus my other bartender. They probably wanted to get paid this week.

Mandy had been
right. I could have used an accountant. Maybe her dad didn’t pay her well and I
could poach her for my business. Then I’d have her all to myself every day.

My email
dinged
.
I checked the laptop.

It was news—but
I didn’t know if the email was good or bad.

Nate,

The property in
Santa Barbara has a lot of viewings this week. You better tour it soon if you
want to put in an offer. It’s really the perfect spot for you, and I think we
can win over the owners if they see your proposal—they’d definitely like the
property in the hands of a small business. Let me know.

Angela

I didn’t
hesitate. I called my realtor, but I was bounced to her voice mail.

“Angela, this
week is no good. My best friend is getting married, and I gotta help with the
wedding. Just…let this property go. There’s plenty of other places to check.”

I ended the call
and felt sick.

What the fuck
did I just do?

I wasn’t staying
in town to help with the wedding or the preparations.

And I
knew
that property was the single greatest thing that might have happened to my
brewery if I wanted to expand and head out west. I had tasted freedom, and it
had a good, hoppy bite to it. But now something soured it.

A nagging,
restless itch settled in the pit of my stomach. For twenty-eight years, I’d
wanted to get the hell out of my hometown, make a name for myself beyond my
family, and just fuck my way to happiness.

Now?

Only one thing
kept me from packing a bag and setting down somewhere new with all the fun and
prosperity it’d offer.

The only thing I
wanted more than the life I had was the one I never thought I’d need.

I wanted Mandy,
and that bullshit revelation knocked me onto my ass.

I headed back to
the bar and grabbed a fresh beer. Chugged it. Opened another.

I drank until I
got drunk, passed out on the couch in my office, and welcomed the black.

And, goddamn it—

I dreamt of
Mandy.