A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,4
be?
She found the keys and shoved them into her pocketbook. She wouldn’t need them to open the door since she’d left Con in her bed watching movies. It was nearly midnight after her long drive back from the Island, and she’d bet money—if she had any—that he’d still be there, warm and welcoming, crumpled sheets the only cover on his muscled body.
Con was always there for her. Never too busy to see her, to hold her, to massage her tight shoulders and cook a gourmet dinner with her. When she told her cousin Maisie about him she’d laughed and said he sounded too good to be true, and for once Lizzie had been the smug one. After two years of hearing about Maisie’s engagement to Dwight the Perfect Fiancé and all the boring details of their years-in-the-planning wedding, it was a delicious coup to announce “I’m getting married on Friday.” She didn’t need napkins hand-embroidered with their entwined initials to declare her love for Con.
The elevator jerked to a stop on the eleventh floor and prickles of anxiety crept over her. How would she tell him?
Thick carpet absorbed the sound of her high heels in the eerily silent hallway. The apartment was in her father’s name. She’d have to move.
She and Con would find a new home together. In a nice friendly neighborhood. Not this snooty Upper East Side co-op where you had to have old money to get past the board. Maybe they’d even get a house? Not a big fancy one, but somewhere pretty and comfortable, just for them. She and Con shared the same taste in everything.
Except olives. She liked them, he didn’t.
She rapped on the door with her knuckles, trying to ignore the cantaloupe-sized knot forming in her stomach. She could make out the sound of the TV through the door, and her breathing quickened as she heard it flick off, followed by the tap of bare feet on the parquet.
Maybe she imagined that. How could you hear bare feet through a solid door?
I’m not an heiress any more. Sorry.
She heard the lock slide back and the door opened. Con smiled at her with that lopsided grin that sent her heart skittering every time.
“I missed you.” His voice and those dark sleepy eyes were just what she needed. She stepped over the threshold and threw her arms around him. He responded instantly, wrapping himself around her, holding her tight—so tight—absorbing all the stress and hurt that dogged her.
With her head on his chest and his strong arms around her back, she felt safe. Everything was going to be okay.
“That bad, huh?”
It had been her idea to go tell her parents about their planned wedding. He’d wanted to get married and deal with the fallout later. He knew he hadn’t made a top-notch impression on them last week, though neither of them could figure out why.
They’d decided to get married right away, with a minimum of pomp and ceremony. To make it just about them and their commitment to each other. They didn’t have anything to prove.
“Poor baby.” He kicked the door closed and kissed her neck, stroked her back. His warm soft lips on her skin, the tickle of teeth, his tongue on her earlobe sent her fears running and stirred up a swarm of excitement.
“Con, wait…”
He didn’t. He kissed her cheekbone and her eyelid, swaying her as she closed her eyes. Already lifting her away to a place where only they existed and where thoughts of—
“Sweetheart, stop…”
He still didn’t. His kissing became more insistent as his mouth roamed over her neck. His hands ran up and down her clingy dress, stirring warmth in her skin and making her breasts tingle.
Before she knew it she was on the bed with her legs in the air and Con moving over her in that magic way that always made her fall to pieces and rise up stronger, no matter how many times they made love.
When they crashed to the sheets together, panting and sweating, she clung to him. Wanted to hold tight to the bliss pouring through her body and soothing her hurt mind.
“Feeling better now, babe?
She nodded, still not wanting to speak and break the spell. She opened her eyes just enough to see his face. His strong features and harsh, masculine beauty always shocked her a little. Usually a neat “short back and sides,” his straight brown-black hair hung in his eyes, which shone in the glow of the light from the hall. Soft with love.