When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys. Lori Foster

hastened to stand. His legs shook. Damn, he was horny. She’d given him a fantasy, then ripped it away with a cold dash of reality.

      Women could be so cruel.

      “Look,” he said, starting to worry. “Let’s forget this, okay? No need to tell anyone—”

      “And you called me a baby?” She yanked her pants up so hard, she almost lifted herself off her feet. “You can relax, you…you…tease.”

      “Tease!”

      She zipped and buttoned with undivided fury. “I have no intention of telling anyone that I was stupid enough, gullible enough, ridiculous enough to let you touch me.”

      Now he started to feel offended. “Gullible?”

      “Exactly. I thought you had other intentions. You misled me.”

      Axel leaned close. “You ungrateful brat. I made you come.”

      “Ha! You pulled up short, that’s what you did.”

      Oh, now she insulted his ability. Eyes narrowed, Axel accused, “You liked it.”

      Nose to nose with him, she said, “Prove it.” Then she sneered, “Oh wait, you’re afraid to. Virgins terrify you.”

      Heat and embarrassment reddened his face. Voice wooden, he snarled, “They don’t terrify me. They just complicate things.”

      “If I hadn’t told you, you wouldn’t even have known.”

      “Bullshit. I knew.” Sorta. He had noticed how tight she was, and that awe in her face when the orgasm took her spoke volumes, but…

      “You had no idea until I stupidly spilled my guts. And here I’d figured you for an experienced man. I thought I could have a little fun, learn a few things, then never have to see you again.”

      Of all the outlandish plans. “You were going to use me?”

      “Mutual use.” She sniffed as she stabbed her shirt back into the waistband of her pants. “But you had to go and ruin everything.”

      “Not everything,” Axel told her in a haze of anger. “You still don’t ever have to see me again.”

      “Thank God for small favors.” She turned her back and bent over.

      Staring at that sexy, upturned rump, Axel sucked in his breath, caught between taking her after all, and giving her a swift swat for her rudeness.

      She felt around on the ground until she located the matches, then straightened. “With any luck,” she yelled, starting along the path again, “you’ll be long gone before I return from lighting the torches.”

      “You can bet I will be,” Axel hollered right back. Then he realized he had yelled and drew himself up. Shit, he shouldn’t be making so much noise. He glanced up at the house, but luckily he didn’t see faces pressed to the glass, trying to determine the cause of the commotion.

      He turned, stomping back toward the house, praying his erection would be gone before he reached it. But it was so dark out. And that stubborn little female was so small…

      Guided by a conscience he hadn’t known existed, he hung back, lingering in the shadows, watching her. He told himself he’d make sure she got back to the house safe. Yeah, it was gentlemanly concern that kept him watching her. That’s all.

      He sure as hell wasn’t interested in a virginal post-teen.

      He kept track of her as she lit each torch before stomping on to another. At the pond, she paused. Her head dropped forward and for one single instant, she covered her face, filling Axel with guilt.

      Please don’t let her cry, he prayed. He detested crying women.

      In the next instant, she shook her fist at the sky, growled like a wild animal, and turned to plod up the path to the house.

      Axel grinned despite himself. She really was in a temper, all because she wanted him. Cute.

      No, scratch that.

      She wasn’t cute.

      She was a catastrophe waiting to happen. A virgin on the loose, with experimenting on her mind. Luckily, he’d escaped her clutches in time.

      Yeah, real lucky.

      Shit.

      He didn’t bother going back to the house. Elwood wouldn’t remember if he’d said good-bye or not. Axel dug his keys from his pocket and went around the house to the drive. He climbed into his BMW and slammed the door.

      All the way home, he groused to himself. Even with the windows down and the cool wind in his face, he burned. He kept remembering the feel of her, how she tasted, the look on her face as she came.

      And damn it, regardless of what common sense told him, he still wanted her.

      Now maybe more than ever.

      Three

      Libby punched her pillow hard, shoved it this way and that, but it didn’t help her get comfortable. And she knew why.

      For three weeks now, she’d tried to forget the big lug and his compelling dark eyes. Her first foray into sexual matters had been less than awe-inspiring—if she ignored the way he’d made her feel. But she couldn’t. She remembered it oh too well. Every single shiver and tremor and spark and gasp. It plagued her mind and left her achy and fidgety and…needy. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like him.

      So why couldn’t she get him out of her head?

      Flopping to her back and throwing an arm over her face, Libby tried to block out the memory of how exciting he’d been, how sexy—up until the moment he’d turned into such a jerk.

      He’d called her a baby. Now there was a laugh. Maturity was her middle name. Losing her mother so young had forced her to grow up quick, to plan her life long before most kids even thought about tomorrow, much less years down the road. She was mature all right—but given the tantrum she’d had on him, he’d never believe that now.

      Of course, she’d never see him again, so what did his beliefs matter?

      It mattered, blast him, because he’d gotten her all primed, showed her what she’d been missing, then turned as prim as a maiden aunt. All his suave, macho confidence had melted beneath sputtering incredulity.

      All because she was a little younger than him.

      How old was he anyway? Thirty-three or four? Certainly not old. Twelve years was no biggie. Not to her. Not to most men.

      She’d considered asking Uncle Elwood about him, but luckily she’d snuffed out that idea before it had a chance to take root. Her uncle would have a complete conniption if he ever found out she’d been playing hanky-panky in his gardens. He wanted her to study, graduate nursing school, and remove herself from his responsibilities.

      And she would, as fast as humanly possible.

      This meant she needed to relegate good ole Brown Eyes to the status of an opportunity missed, and stop thinking of him. That should have been easy to do. Never before had she had a problem dismissing guys. First there’d been the grief for her mother. Then the uncertainty of living with Elwood. And her studies. Her determination.

      Guys just hadn’t factored into her priorities.

      Before meeting him.

      But now he had her so blasted curious, she thought she might implode. In one short, unsuccessful interlude, he’d managed to turn her into a sex maniac. She wanted to find out all there was to the whole intimacy game. Maybe the time had come for her to notice the masculine sex.

      Other guys wouldn’t mind her age or inexperience. She knew plenty of men, from college, from working, even from the hospital. When she smiled at them, they always smiled back. They seemed delighted by her attention. And a few of them even had dark brown eyes.

      Not