Product Details

• Table of Contents
• Read an Excerpt

Table of Contents

Read an Excerpt

I Love Bad Boys

KENSINGTON BOOKS

Chapter One

It was still something of a shock that the small, conservative town of Cuther, Indiana had such a shop in its midst.

It was doubly shocking that small town, conservative Becky would be visiting that shop.

Her heart pounded, her face was hot, and her hands shook. Never ever in her life had she expected to do such a thing. Yet here she was, not only inside Wild Honey, but on a sexual mission. A mission designed by her two well-meaning friends, Asia and Erica. Becky knew they were both watching her progress from the company lounge across the street, in the toiletries factory where they all three worked.

Before the door closed behind Becky, she peeked over her shoulder and sure enough she could see the twin pale faces of Erica and Asia pressed to the window on the second floor of the factory. She couldn't back out because they'd both know and she liked them too much to want them to consider her a coward.

The three of them had made a pact, and by gosh, she'd keep to her end of the deal.

Drawing a steadying breath, Becky released the door and it swung shut with a tinkling of chimes and a sense of finality that made her jump. Becky held her coat tightly closed at her throat and looked around. What she saw was ... unexpected.

Wild Honey was actually pretty elegant. It was clean and neatly organized and colorful. There were display tables laden with books and tapes, every wall lined with shelves of more books, magazines, and some boxed items. Biting her lip, Becky forced herself to take a few steps. A woman behind the counter greeted her. "Hi. Can I help you find something?"

Good Lord! Surely the saleslady didn't expect her to discuss such things. Numb, Becky shook her head and turned away, hurrying to the back of the large room. An open door that led into another room offered her a place to hide. She ducked inside.

And immediately stalled.

Mouth falling open, Becky stared about in mingled horror and fascination at the items hung from the walls. Why, there were things that looked like ... like penises. Enormously large penises. Blue, white, and black penises. Penises in every color of the rainbow. Two-foot long penises, for crying out loud. Double-headed penises.

Without realizing it, Becky drifted closer, mouth still gaping, eyes so wide it was a wonder her eyeballs didn't fall out. This had to be a joke. Sure, she wasn't experienced, but she wasn't an idiot either, and there was no way all those penises could be ... functional. No way. It was impossible.

She looked away from the display of artificial penises with a disbelieving shake of her head and a barely audible snort. They were probably gag items, used for bachelor parties and such. That made more sense than anything else.

Her attention got snagged on a new contraption and she studied it. She had no idea what it might be, but there were boxes stacked beneath the one on display, with instructions printed on the back. Made of what looked to be hard plastic, the device had several elastic straps and little pointy rubber things sticking out here and there, and a place for batteries. Becky studied it, then picked up the box to read the description.

Gasping, she dropped the box, jerked around-and ran full tilt into a tall, hard male body.

She would have screamed if she had any breath. As it was, she staggered back from the bruising impact and almost fell over the stacked boxes. At the last second, the man caught her and held her upright.

"Hey, easy now."

Becky froze. Dear God, she recognized the voice that had haunted her most carnal dreams for two years now.

Big hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her, and with a wince of dread, Becky slowly looked up-into familiar mocking black eyes.

Oh no. No, no, no. Not someone she knew. Not this particular male someone.

He bent to meet her eye level, one glossy black brow raised, one side of his sensual mouth tilted up in a smile. "You okay, Ms. Harte?"

Becky squeezed her eyes shut, praying that not seeing him might help. It didn't. She was oh so aware of him standing there.

"Becky?" His voice was gentle, insistent, rough, and masculine. Her skin tingled from his touch and her heart lodged in her throat.

Using the edge of his fist, he tipped up her chin, which effectively closed her mouth, too. After a second, he chuckled. "You know, you're so damn red you're going to catch the place on fire."

Becky swallowed hard and rallied her scattered wits. In a whisper, she admitted, "I'm mortified."

"Yeah? How come?"

She tucked in her chin, refusing to look at him again. George Westin was the man of her dreams, the epitome of everything dark and erotic and forbidden. Whenever she thought of how sex should be, she thought of George.

He had the most compelling eyes-dark, daring, filled with carnal knowledge and challenge. He looked at a woman, and she felt his attention like a physical stroke.

He was looking at her now. Becky gulped.

All the women at the factory adored George, and they all whispered about him. Becky had heard the rumors about his astounding reputation and the validations by a couple of the women he'd dated. By all accounts, George had ... a lot, and knew how to use it. Becky wasn't entirely certain what a lot meant, except that he could make a woman very, very happy in bed.

For the two years that she'd known him, she'd done her best to hide her own reaction to him. She hadn't wanted him to see her as just one more woman who lusted after his gorgeous body and his sexual knowledge. She'd pretended an indifference to him, pretended to see him only as a supervisor, not as a man.

In truth, being anywhere near him made her tongue-tied.

Now here she was, not a foot away from him, his hot hands touching her, standing in the middle of a porn shop with pleasure probes behind her.

Becky groaned.

Apparently amused, George released her, only to throw a heavy arm around her shoulders. He led her a few feet away, his hold easy but secure. "Take deep breaths, Becky. It'll be all right."

At his casual familiarity, Becky peeked up at him again. His neatly trimmed, silky black hair was disheveled by the blustery wind outside, and his cheeks were ruddy with the cold. He must have just come inside. And of course, she had to literally run into him.

He leaned around to see her face. "I can call you Becky, right? I mean, the situation lends a certain intimacy, don't you think?"

Think? She was supposed to think? He had to be kidding.

"Becky?"

He was incredibly tall. And he smelled incredibly good. She wanted to lean into him and inhale his wonderful scent.

At work she always made sure they stayed on a professional footing. George had often tried joking with her; he'd tried flirting with her a little, too, teasing her. But she'd known there was no future in it, that she couldn't get involved with him. She'd kept things friendly, because she'd rather have at least that much with him, than nothing at all. If she'd encouraged him, he was the type of man who would have wanted sex.

Incredible sex.

Naked, sweaty sex.

And she couldn't do that.

So he'd backed off. Not completely, because he still chatted with her and he sought her out more than most of the men she worked with. But he seemed to have accepted her unspoken decision-to be friendly associates, but nothing more.

The poor man had no idea she lusted after him every single night.

After clearing her throat-twice-Becky managed to say, "We're not at work, Mr. Westin, so sure, you may call me Becky. There's no reason to be formal ..." She strangled on the word, here.

"Exactly." George gave her an approving smile, likely because she'd succeeded in stringing more than two words together. "And do call me George."

Like a sleepwalker, Becky allowed herself to be led through the shop. When she'd agreed to this daring scheme with Erica and Asia, she had envisioned running into some unknown, never-to-be-heard-from-again man and getting through the whole ordeal with a modicum of remote familiarity. Not once had she envisioned running into George.

Tomorrow, she'd see him at work, probably several times. He was a supervisor, not over her floor, but they had contact on and off throughout the day. He'd look at her, and he'd know she'd been here, checking out ... penises and pleasure probes and God only knew what else.

She'd never survive the embarrassment.

George halted them next to a very small curtained booth well away from the wall displays. "Better?"

Becky drew a breath and forced herself to stop behaving like the backward and inexperienced hick she actually was. "I'm sorry. I'm just ... well, I'm obviously not used to being in places like this."

"Obviously." George released her and shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets. His coat and suit coat parted over his middle, showing a flat abdomen, a wide chest. His hands pulled his slacks taut, and she noticed other, more interesting things.

He cleared his throat, and Becky jerked her gaze away from his belt buckle and the heavy weight of his sex beneath. Being in a porn shop must have muddled her senses to have her staring at him there like a lecher.

At his leisure, George lounged back against the wall, next to that dark curtain. He wasn't embarrassed. In fact, he still looked amused as he studied her face in that scrutinizing way of his. "Looking for something in particular, are you?"

At first, she thought he was referring to where she'd just been staring-at his crotch-and her mouth fell open in shock. Then she realized he meant his comment in a more general term, concerning her visit to the porn shop. Her reaction to that wasn't much better. Only sheer force of will kept her from running away. "I was just ... curious," she lied.

She wasn't about to tell him the truth, that she was here to meet a man.

A specific man.

A man with precise sexual predilections, which would finally enable her to get rid of her virginity without distress.

"Uh-huh." George grinned, showing white teeth and a dimple in his cheek.

To Becky's mind, George was already too handsome for his own good. The dimple was overkill.

Even Erica had made note of him several times, and Becky trusted her opinion since Erica knew a whole lot more about men than she ever would. But Erica had also called George a rogue, a womanizer, even a sex addict.

Becky remembered that Erica had smiled when she'd made those accusations.

Asia, now madly in love with Cameron, had commented on George, too. In fact, Asia had commented on him several times recently, as if she'd been determined to make sure Becky noticed him. Becky shook her head. It wasn't likely any woman could not notice George, considering he stood so tall and was so dark and emanated such raw sex appeal.

She figured him to be in his late thirties, and judging by his reputation, he'd lived those thirty-odd years to the fullest.

"Cat got your tongue?" George cocked his head to the side. "Or are you considering buying one of those pleasure probes?"

Becky reeled back, scandalized, horrified, embarrassed beyond belief at the mere suggestion. "Of course not!"

George chuckled, but his chuckle dwindled into a warm smile when he looked at her mouth. He kept looking, his expression so fixed Becky began to fidget. "Calm down, Becky. I was just teasing."

The front door chimed and several more men from her workplace wandered in. Becky blanched at the thought of being recognized yet again. "Oh good Lord."

George glanced at the men. "Don't want to be seen here, huh?"

Panicked, Becky searched around for a place to hide. "I'd rather not, no."

"Then I'll be your white knight." So saying, George took her upper arm and moved the curtain aside. He stepped into the booth, dragging Becky with him. "We can hide in here until they're gone."

The curtain dropped back into place, leaving them in darkness. Becky went utterly still, more aware of George as a man than she'd ever been of any man in her life. Of course, she was sequestered with him in a tiny booth, in the darkness, in a porn shop.

How in the world had she gotten into this predicament?

She and her friends had made the deal-they'd each go to Wild Honey, find a man who shared an interest in her fantasy, and approach him.

The idea had been to get back into the sexual swing of things. Not that Becky had ever been in the swing. She was twenty-five and a blasted virgin, as innocent as a child, without a single speck of experience.

But not for the reasons her friends assumed. Yes, she was shy. Yes, she was moral and believed in love and marriage. But that had nothing to do with why she'd avoided any intimate contact with a man.

The real reason was a shame that ran bone-deep, an ... affliction she'd dealt with using avoidance.

Until now.

Her proclaimed fantasy, that of bondage, had everything to do with it. If a man was tied up, well then he couldn't control anything. Like the lights. She could keep the room black as pitch. She could even blindfold him and there'd be nothing he could do about it. He'd probably even like it.

She'd be able to find out what all the hoopla was about sex, without worrying that he'd see her, or touch her. She'd be able to look at him, to sate herself on his body, to touch him and taste him and yet she'd keep her own appearance, her body, her flaws, private.

He'd never know.

Asia had gone first, and for her things had worked out perfectly, to the point where she was due to marry Cameron soon. Not that Becky expected to get married, not now, not ever. But she was so lonely, so hungry. She wanted to share lovemaking. She wanted to experience mind-blowing sex. She craved so, so much.

All she needed was the right man to indulge her.

Becky drew a breath, trying to reassure herself. Instead she breathed in George's scent again. It turned her insides to mush.

George moved beside her in the cramped space, and she heard a clink, like the dropping of change, then a small hum. Two seconds later, the booth lit up and a film played on the wall in front of them.

Becky stared. "This is a movie booth?"

"A place to see previews of the different videos before buying one." George studied her, strangely alert, as he waited for her reaction. "You pop in a quarter, pick the number of the film you're interested in, and you get to see a few minutes of it."

"My, um ... what a good idea."

Continues...

---

Excerpted from I Love Bad Boys by Lori Foster Janelle Denison Donna Kauffman Copyright © 2002 by Kensington Publishing Corp.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---