Bad Girls Do: a Billionare Romance Novel (The Everly Brothers Series, Erotic Romance Book 3) (14 page)

Sliding his jeans all the way down, he stepped out of them and then bent to withdraw the stack of condoms he’d slid into his back pocket before he headed over here. Her eyes widened when he set them onto her end table, and he could practically hear her wondering in her mind whether he planned on using them all.

The short answer was yes. If he had his way, they’d use every damn one before the night was through.

“I just realized something,” he said.

One of her brows lifted. “What?”

“I’ve only ever fucked you with all my clothes on.”

The statement had the intended effect of making her pretty peach skin turn pink. Grinning, he set a knee onto the bed and bent to press a hot kiss to her lips, before murmuring, “I think we’re going to have to remedy that.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

After one more deep kiss, he rose from the bed and stalked to her robe, then slid the sash off it before heading back to the bed.

Her brows furrowed when she saw it. “What’s that for?”

He gave her a wicked look as he held up the sash. “I seem to remember bondage being an item on your list.”

When she sucked in a breath, he said, “Let’s cross that one off while we’re at it, shall we?”

***

The soft beep of Diane’s alarm clock woke her from the sleep of the dead. Groaning, she reached over and smacked it until it shut off, then realized a heavy limb was slung over her thighs. She froze as the memories bombarded her in one big rush.

Jesus, Sam his still here.

Somehow, that truly surprised her. She didn’t know why. He’d spent the entire night making love to her. He was probably too tired to move. But still, somehow she’d thought he would slip out like a thief in the night while she slept.

She slowly rolled back and studied the man who slept beside her. His head was partially buried under a pillow, and every now and again a soft snore would escape him. He looked exhausted.

When her sore body gave a twinge, it hit her that she was just as tired. How could she not be?

True to his word, Sam had used every one of the half dozen condoms he’d brought with him. They done it in every way imaginable. Some of the positions they’d tried she hadn’t even known were possible. She lost track of her orgasms somewhere after lucky number seven. But if she had to guess, she’d say
her
lucky number was probably closer to thirteen.

Oh god. I can’t believe I did all that.

And it had been wondrous and amazing.

There was one thing she could say: if her intent had been to have Sam teach her how to be a bad girl, then she’d certainly succeeded. She’d learned things that would no doubt shock any man she ended up with in the future.

Although the thought of letting some other nameless, faceless man into her body was like throwing a bucket of freezing cold water on her face. Ignoring that silly voice in her head, the one that told her she didn’t want another man, she started to edge out from beneath Sam’s leg. But just as she was about to slip out of her bed, his arm snaked around her and pulled her back in. His lips pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Where you going?” he murmured in a sleepy voice.

“I have to go to work,” she said reluctantly.

“No, take the day off.”

His sleepy request threw her. “But they’re expecting me at the office today.”

“Stay with me instead,” he urged with a yawn. “Sleep in. We’ll go to lunch later.”

He actually wanted to spend
more
time with her? During the day?

Conflict warred within her. Even though she ran the foundation, the thought of playing hooky still made her feel guilty. On the other hand, how many times would she ever get an offer like this from Sam? Something told her this was a one-shot only deal, and she’d be a fool to turn it down.

“Okay,” she finally said.

“Good.” His arm tightened around her, and when his breathing evened out she risked a peek up at his face.

He’d passed out again.

Jeez
. If only she could fall asleep so easily.

She took the opportunity to study his features. Strong, masculine jaw and long, thin nose. Nicely arched brows. Funny how he could look so much like his older brother Andrew, yet still be so different. But there was no mistaking it. The two men were nothing alike, at least not when it came to her and her body’s reaction to them.

The soft rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a peaceful state until, to her surprise, she found her eyelids growing heavy once more. Surrendering to the temptation, she let sleep claim her again.

***

When Sam woke hours later, he found Diane sleeping beside him. He remembered being half awake earlier when Diane had told him she had to go to work. Apparently, he’d been able to dissuade her from that.

Good.

After pressing a kiss to her soft cheek, he left the warmth of her bed and headed into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth using his finger as a brush and then hopped into her shower.

Part of him couldn’t believe he was still here. When had he
ever
hung around at a chick’s place after they’d banged?

The answer would be a resounding never. But somehow, this was different.
Diane
was different.

The thought gave him pause. Could it be that he was falling for her?

No. Impossible.

He’d decided long ago that he wasn’t ever going to fall for anyone. The only reason he was still here was because he felt comfortable around Diane. Besides, he’d promised to aid her in her quest to be naughty, and despite how good she was doing at it, she still had plenty to learn.

When the bathroom door popped open, he turned to look at Diane. She stood right at the door with her robe on and her mussed hair floating around her shoulders. The stunned look on her face said it all. She hadn’t expected him to still be there.

He strode across the shower with a grin, shoved open the glass door and tugged on the sash of her robe. “Come on in.”

She let him slide the robe off her shoulders then stepped inside with him. “I can’t believe I didn’t show up for work. I even forgot to call to tell them I wasn’t coming in.”

He chuckled and grabbed the soap, lathering it up before sliding his palms over her gorgeous tits. “How diabolical of you.”

Shaking herself out of her haze, she threw him a half-hearted smirk. “I’m learning from the best.”

“Damn straight.” He took his time with her breasts, sliding his palms beneath them and around her areola. No surprise, within a matter of moments he was hard as a rock. He had to say this for Diane: she sure had the ability to send his blood racing south.

When his fingers trailed a path between her legs and found her clit, she sucked in a breath and her back hit the shower wall.

“We’re out of condoms,” she murmured weakly.

Sam scoffed at her. “Have I taught you so little? There’s still plenty we can do without condoms.”

When her only response was to give him a bemused look, he dropped to his knees and showed her what he meant.

Chapter Eleven

T
he afternoon passed by in a strange sort of blur. Part of Diane wondered if she were still dreaming. Was she really spending the day with Sam? As difficult as it seemed to believe, here he was, sitting across from her at the deli across the street from her place and looking sexy as hell with his scruffy growth of stubble and tousled hair. She wasn’t the only one who noticed either, based on the few sidelong glances she spotted from other patrons.

After their shower interlude, where he proceeded to up her lucky number to fourteen, they’d slipped back into her room to dress. She hadn’t been able to contain her laughter when, after peeking to make sure the coast was clear, he’d proceeded to slip back down the fire escape like a thief.

As funny as it was, she also appreciated his effort. The last thing she needed was for her father to find Sam there. That would bring up too many questions, and in no way would her father like the answers she had to give.

The mood between her and Sam was surprisingly light as they scarfed down their food. He told her what he’d been up to the past week, which apparently consisted of working on his next art collection and drinking down at Beringer’s Pub with Zach and Zoey. If it irked her the slightest bit that he hadn’t tried to meet up with her these past seven days, she could ignore that. This was nothing more than a hookup, after all.

After lunch, he strode up to the counter to pay their bill while she excused herself and finally called Teresa, the foundation’s manager.

“I was worried about you,” Teresa said after she informed her she wouldn’t be in.

Diane squirmed in her spot. Boss or no, she hated letting anyone down. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” Teresa said cheerily. “Enjoy your weekend.”

Diane hung up just as Sam exited the deli. He zipped up his leather jacket and slid his hands into his pockets as he approached. “Everything okay at work?”

“Yes.” She supposed he would find it silly that she was worried, given that her role at the foundation was more ceremonial than anything. But he didn’t comment on it. What he did say was a surprise, however.

“Want to go back to my place?”

She blinked up at him. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “If you want. I can show you my collection.”

“O-okay.”

She tried to ignore the feeling of her mind being blown as they headed to the subway station and hopped the train. But once they arrived at Sam’s apartment, it hit her. She’d dated Andrew for months without ever seeing his apartment. Or even seeing him naked, for that matter. She and Sam weren’t even dating, and they’d already accomplished both of those things.

It was sort of crazy when you thought about it.

So don’t.

The last thing she needed was to overanalyze this. They were supposed to be having fun. So she needed to shut her brain off and just enjoy the moment.

Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor, she entered his apartment to find a large, unassuming loft. The huge open space housed an industrial kitchen immediately to the right of the entrance and a living room on the far right-hand side. Directly to her left was a corridor that led to what she assumed was the bedroom and bathroom, and on the far left, directly across from the living room, several easels were set atop drop cloths covering the wooden flooring. It was messy and colorful and everything an artist’s space should be.

As they slid their winter gear off, Diane looked around the large loft in admiration. The sheer size of the space spoke to his wealth, but there was nothing overly rich or showy about the place. Certainly nothing like her father’s ostentatious townhouse, with its marbled flooring and gilded crown molding.

“I like it,” she pronounced.

“I know, it’s awesome,” he replied cheerfully. “Took me over two years of looking to find this place.”

When he casually grabbed her hand and led her to his workspace, she tried not to let her jaw drop. It was hard, though. Not only was he showing her his private space, but he was actually holding her hand. Somehow, neither of those things fit in with her perception of playboy Sam. Maybe she’d been wrong about him…

“This is my newest one.” He came to a stop in front of the canvas that had a stool set by it. The painting was dotted in bright oranges and pinks, and streaked with bold lines of sunny yellow. “It’s only halfway done. I started it this past week.”

Something about the modernistic art piece made her smile. “It looks cheerful.”

“I know.” His brow furrowed and he scratched at the stubble covering his chin. “Definitely not my norm.”

“I noticed.” She’d seen a few of his pieces down at the art gallery, and of course at the Everly Publications’ offices. Though some of them were rather cheeky, many others had an angry air to them—like the one she crossed over to now. A placard was attached to the easel holding the piece, and the title read
Mother
. The bold strokes of black, red, and purple spoke to the sorrow of the piece.

Given that Sam’s mother had died of a drug overdose, she probably shouldn’t bring it up. It was bound to ruin this carefree mood they had going between them. But for some reason, she found she couldn’t help herself.

Turning to Sam, Diane asked, “Is this one about mourning your mother’s death?”

A shadow flickered in his eyes and he stepped up beside her, lifting a finger to stroke along one of the angry red lines. “More understanding it. Understanding her. See the purple?”

He slid his fingertip to a blotch of vibrant lilac on the upper left-hand corner of the canvas.

“Yes. It’s the brightest color in the piece.”

Sam nodded, his jaw clenched. “That was her in her high moments.”

Surprise that Sam would even bring that up worked its way through her. “You mean when she was doing drugs?”

“No.” He glanced at her. “Did Andrew ever tell you our mother was bipolar?”

Her mouth dropped open. “No. I had no idea.”

He gave her a tight smile. “I’m not surprised.”

At a loss for how to respond, she stood there silently, until he spoke again.

“I was eleven when she died, old enough to remember but too young to really understand the problems she had.” Something wistful shone in his eyes as he focused back on the canvas. “I remember her as this bright, carefree soul. She would often spontaneously break out into dance or song. Impulsively usher us into the car and drive us to random places. Being with her was such an adventure.”

Though his tone was even, something in Sam’s words wrenched at Diane’s heart. “She sounds like fun.”

“She was. But then there were times where she would disappear for days. In her room with a headache, Andrew would tell me.” One of his brows quirked. “I wouldn’t understand until I was older that she was in one of her depressive moods. I don’t think Andrew did either, but he did his best to shield me and James from Mother’s erratic mood swings.”