Very Bad Things (35 page)

“I intend to fuck you tonight, Janie. I intend to fuck you
very
well. I am going to make you come in every way imaginable; with my fingers, my
tongue, and my cock. I am going to do things to you that you and Lyla have only
teased
about at Danny’s, things that you have
fantasized
about,
and things that have
never
even crossed your mind. You will have a say
in whether or not we stop, but Janie, you will not have a say on whether it is
your place or mine. Got it?”

She stared at Max and her mouth formed an O. She was
thoroughly and truly speechless. So she nodded again.

“Words, Janie. I need words.”

“Okay.” Her heartbeat started speeding up again, as Max’s
car did the same.

MAX GRINNED AS he drove them toward
her place. How is it possible that he finally had Janie Silver in his car?
Fuck.

One word…Lyla. He was going to have to send her those
raspberry truffles that she liked so much.

Keeping both hands on the wheel proved to be more difficult
than he ever imagined. Just a few more minutes and he would finally have Janie,
his Janie, alone in her house, on her bed.

His house or hers?
Max laughed to himself. What a
ridiculous question. Didn’t she realize the answer had to be the place that was
the closest to wherever they were? He was barely hanging on as it was. He had
to be practically superhuman to have restrained himself from taking her in his
car when they had pulled over for that quick chat. He’d wanted to run his hands
through her long hair, practically since the first Thursday night that she and
Lyla had walked into Danny’s on Main. He’d been dying to know if her
brown-and-copper cascades would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his
fingers.

For months he had been waiting for the right time. Watching
her with the last loser had caused an unfamiliar pang of possessiveness to grip
his gut and squeeze it like a vice. Hearing about the ten years of douche bags
prior was enough to make him insane. Every workout with the heavy bag was him
beating the shit out of all the faceless men who had hurt Janie in the past.
Every MMA session had his partners feeling the pain that he wanted to inflict
on the cheating sons of bitches that made Janie think she was unworthy of being
worshipped. He got through each punishing run telling himself that one day he
would be the man to teach her what the John Mayer song, “Your Body is a
Wonderland” really meant. She was the one woman who made him wish he could have
a relationship. If he still possessed his heart, he would give it to her.
That’s why he had stayed away from her. Until tonight.

Tonight he finally lost his power to control the lust he
felt toward her, and now he had her. His woman…
No
, he thought,
just
her body. That’s all I want.
No emotions, no entanglements
…

He ran his hand slowly up Janie’s jean-clad thigh and
breathed in deep.

“Fuck,” he sighed out loud. He was in trouble.

LYLA NURSED THE last of her drink
and tried to push the mystery man with his whisky-laced voice and his leathery,
cedar scent out of her mind, when Danny came back to the bar to regale her with
disgusting stories of bathroom horror. Laughing hysterically, she dipped her
head, covered her eyes, and begged him to stop the torture.

“Ew! Stop! You’re gonna make me pee myself,” she squealed,
“Then your poor staff is going to have another mess to deal with. Plus, I would
never be able to show my face in here again!”

Danny’s expression went from relaxed to tense in a blink.
“Oh, honey, don’t ever say that. You and Janie are like family now. Go ahead
and pee on the floor! I won’t care. In fact, after we’re all done laughing at
you, we’ll bronze the spot!”

Lyla knew that Danny and his wife, Julie, had tried for
years to have children, but to no avail. They treated their employees like
family, and she and Janie, in the last few, short months, had become like
surrogate daughters to the couple.

“Thanks, Danny. You know that means the world to
me…especially since I don’t really…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“Yeah, and you have A-D-D when it comes to men.” He
effectively changed the subject without any sense of how he got from point A to
point B.

She lifted her eyebrows, ready with a sassy comeback, but it
wouldn’t come out of her mouth. He was right; Lyla could practically choose her
sexual partner any night of the week. But sex is where she drew her line, she
didn’t do commitment, Hell, she didn’t even do sleepovers. She let them use her
body, and she used theirs right back. Two consenting adults—perfect.

“I don’t need anyone but Janie…and you guys, of course.” She
smiled sheepishly. The truth was; the thought of getting close to any one man
made her physically ill. The men she had trusted in her past had not just let
her down but had nearly killed her. She was no longer a full person, just a
bunch of broken pieces held together with glue and hope. She didn’t want or
need a man in her life. She could take care of herself. Lyla had her own money,
so financial security would never be a problem for her, and she certainly
didn’t want some guy thinking she was going to support his ass. She needed a
man, not a boy, anyway; someone who didn’t need constant ego stroking, who knew
how to handle her body.

God, what was she thinking? That sounded like relationship
talk. Hence the reason why she always stuck to the one night stands, two nights
if the sex was actually good, but no more.

Danny gave her his best fatherly smile-hug combo—at least
that was what she thought it was, since she had never received one from her own
father—and he whispered in her ear, “Ly, you are not an island, and you deserve
so much love…so much.”

She felt her throat tighten but refused to show any emotion.
While she could, and would, help people deal with their own feelings, hers were
off limits. So she took a deep breath and gave him one final squeeze before
letting go.

Lyla’s thoughts quickly shifted back to her best friend. It
was always better to think about Janie than it was to give any headspace to her
own life.

“She is such a good person. God, I hope I did the right
thing.”

“Who are you talking about?” Danny asked. “You mean, Janie?”

“Shit, was I thinking out loud again? I really need to stop
doing that,” she sputtered, her blue eyes, bright.

“Listen, Lyla,” Danny said with what the group referred to
as his ‘serious face’, “Max has been thinking, and talking, about Janie for
what feels like forever. He is a good guy no matter what he—”

Lyla interrupted. “Danny, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but
what Janie
needs
is a good fu—”

Danny placed his hand over Lyla’s mouth, “Max is a good guy.
Listen to what I am not saying. I see him as a son, so please don’t make me say
it more clearly than this.” A bashful blush crept up Danny’s neck, “He will
give her whatever she needs tonight. Understand?”

She looked into Danny’s pleading eyes, and with a smile as
huge as the relief she was feeling, she stood up, hugged him, and said good
night to the rest of the staff. They firmed up Sunday dinner plans, and she
walked out to her car, parked in her special spot right by the front door.

LYLA SLID INTO her BMW, buckled up,
and pressed the windows down to let the late-summer night breeze blow through
her car. September nights in Pennsylvania were her favorite because one never
knew if the weather would be hot and sticky or crisp and chilly. Like life, it
was unpredictable, and she knew how to handle unpredictable.

She was selecting the playlist on her iPod when she heard
the growling sound of what could only be a Harley roll up to the side of her
car.
Hmm
, she thought with a smirk,
the things I’ve done on a
motorcycle
… The sound alone made her internal engine purr. She continued to
scroll to her favorite playlist, when the back of her neck began to tingle.

She could feel
him
—her body was actually reacting to
a perfect stranger—and there was a slight tap on the roof of her car. Lyla
looked up from her iPod and saw what may have been the most startling pair of
blue eyes that had ever been created. Here she thought her own were pretty
fabulous, but nope, not even close in comparison. She wanted to drown in the
pools that stared back at her. She had never seen him up-close before—he was
breathtaking. Lyla felt her chest burn from her shallow breaths as she took in
the curve of his jaw and sculpted chin.

“See something you like?” He asked with a dimpled grin.

“Before you opened your mouth I did,” Lyla answered in kind.

The next thing she knew, the passenger door opened.
Oh
shit! I forgot to lock the doors
. “I’m such an idiot!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re an idiot, but you really should lock
your doors. Any crazy man could just open them up and sit down next to you,” he
said with a wink.

“I really need to get this problem of thinking out loud
under control,” Lyla stated, purposely out loud that time.

“Or maybe you just need a man that wants to listen to your
all thoughts.” There was that killer smile again.
Dangerous.

His baby blues watched her with what appeared to be
interest. Lyla snickered and then laughed to the point of tears.

He looked at her with lust and confusion. “What?” he asked
in that voice that would forever haunt her dreams.

“Does that line actually work for you?” Lyla said, wiping
her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying in vain to pull herself back
together.

“Actually, I haven’t had to
use
that line before,” he
said smoothly, “Because I don’t run into many beautiful, sexy, desirable women
who spend the better part of their evening talking to themselves.” He chuckled
a throaty laugh, and once again Lyla felt goose bumps rise on her skin
. Oh
Lord, the dimples, the smile, the laugh –– what the hell is wrong with me?

Trying to hide her reaction to him, and of course, her
latest quirky bullshit, Lyla squared off her shoulders, lifted her head, and
looked straight at the sensuous man sitting, uninvited, in her car.
How the
hell did that happen again?

“So…” Lyla waited for him to offer his name, but he didn’t.
He just looked back at her with a piercing stare, his soulful eyes framed with
black lashes so intense she swore he could see right through her.

“So,” he repeated, “I know that you come here on Thursday
nights—”

“Stalker much?”

“Lyla.” Her name was honey dripping from his lips. “Knowing
your name and that fact that you come to Danny’s on Thursdays doesn’t make me a
stalker.”

Lyla’s insides melted and her panties actually dampened,
just from hearing her name slide out of his mouth.
I’m so screwed.
“Oh
my God…”

“What’s wrong?” He smiled.