Rescued by the Bad Boy (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 4) (4 page)

T
here weren’t
any beach parties booked for Saturday, so Max had had no trouble getting the day off.

All the trouble was coming from Haley.

More specifically, that curve-hugging little black dress she wore.

With any luck, it would be on his bedroom floor by ten—she’d promised to accompany him home after the event tonight—but that still left about five hours of playing the gentleman in front of her family. He’d already suffered through the beach rehearsal, nearly losing his shit every time the breeze blew that dress up to reveal her toned thighs—thighs he’d kissed last night, dreamed about until the sun rose—and now he had to attend the dinner as her doting boyfriend.

Boyfriend? Shit. All he really wanted to do was peel that dress off, run his hands over her perfect ass, and slide his cock into her wet, willing flesh…

An elbow to the ribs brought him back to the present. They were standing in the lobby of the Beachcomber, waiting for the hostess to finish setting up their tables.

Haley brushed her bangs to the side and flashed him a saucy grin. “What are you thinking about, pervert?”

Busted.

He slid his arm around her waist and leaned in close to her ear, her soft hair tickling his cheek. “What your panties look like under that dress. How wet I can make them before the first course is served.”

“Hmm.” Haley tapped her lips. “Care to put a wager on that?”

“A hundred bucks. Black lace.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “
Extremely
wet.”

“Sorry. You already lost.” She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his ear, her breath warm on his neck. “White satin with pink hearts,” she whispered. “And I’ve been extremely wet since I met you.”

With a wicked glint in her eye, she smiled at him again, then turned to follow the hostess, that sweet little ass bobbing as she walked away, leaving him standing in the foyer to talk his dick back down.

Game on, Haley Marie. Game on.

* * *

“
I
’m
gonna make you come twice before I even get your clothes off tonight,” Max whispered into her hair, then turned his attention back to her cousin across the table, sliding right back into polite dinner conversation as if he’d merely asked Haley to pass the salt.

“Definitely hotter this season,” he said to the cousin, forking a piece of overcooked chicken cordon bleu. “Farmers are the ones taking the hit, though.”

Normally Max hated small talk, but the guy was one of only a handful of Haley’s “Team Brian” relatives that hadn’t given him the cold shoulder. That, and talking climate change kept the conversation far away from his work, from too many unanswerable questions about why the head lifeguard was hanging out at a dinner party on a Saturday instead of patrolling the busy shore.

Besides, the game he had going on with Haley was
more
than entertaining.

“We were never meant to live in the desert,” the cousin said. “That’s the whole problem.” He launched into a monologue about the history of westward expansion and water diversion, oblivious to the spinach stuck between his teeth, and Max nodded and furrowed his brow at all the appropriate parts, even as Haley slid her sneaky little hand over his thigh, gunning for his dick.

I don’t think so, Haley Marie.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed, effectively cock-blocking her. She sighed in frustration, then removed her hand, returning to her dinner. From the corner of his eye, Max caught her fidgeting in her chair, probably just as bored of the conversation as he was.

Few more hours, then we’re alone in my cottage…

He felt her touch on his knee again, her hand attempting to make the same journey into his lap. But when he grabbed her this time, he felt something else in her grasp. Silky, warm, and slightly damp.

Holy shit.

He glanced briefly at his lap, confirming his suspicions.

Without missing a beat, he lifted the soft fabric to his face and blotted his mouth, inhaling deeply.

Haley gasped, but no one else seemed to notice that he’d just used her fucking panties as a napkin.

He tucked the panties into the pocket of his suit jacket, and leaned over to whisper in her ear again. “Surrender now, Haley Marie. You can’t beat me at this game.”

When he pulled back, she gave him a look that said,
we’ll see about that.

It only made him more determined.

“Diverting water through the pipeline is unsustainable.” The cousin was talking through a mouthful of chicken, clueless about the battle of the sexes unfolding before his eyes.

“Not only is it unsustainable,” Max said, feigning interest, “it’s dangerous. Those pipes were old fifty years ago. Infrastructure upgrades are a huge challenge.” Keeping his eyes locked on the man across from him, Max slid his fingers over the top of Haley’s thigh, slowly pulling her dress up to expose her bare flesh. She clamped her legs shut, but there was no way she’d be able to resist for long.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his fingers over her smooth skin, inching his way between her thighs, the edge of his hand brushing closer to her heat.

Haley finally relaxed, her thighs parting just enough to let him in.

Sweet victory.

His fingers dove in immediately, stroking her clit with slow, teasing circles, slipping over the tight nub as he brought her closer to the edge. Her skin was so soft, so warm… fuck, everything about her made him so damn hard. Her panties were burning a red-hot hole in his pocket, her flesh heating at his touch. He ached to fuck her, to bury himself to the hilt and forget everything but that hot, wet pussy.

He almost came just thinking about it again.

He hadn’t actually
stopped
thinking about it—her, naked, writhing beneath him, screaming his name—ever since that crazy kiss at the party last night. For twenty-four hours he’d been walking around with a hard-on with Haley’s name on it. The closer they got with these little games, the harder it was getting for Max to restrain himself. A few more minutes of touching her, hearing her soft sighs… Max was
this
close to throwing her down on the table, hiking up that little black dress, and taking her right there. Fuck decorum.

As if she could sense the direction of his filthy thoughts, Haley tensed beneath his touch, her thighs clamping harder around his hand, her hips arching up off the chair. She covered her mouth with her hand and made a sound that only he could hear, a soft moan, a gasp of pure pleasure. She was so fucking close. Max shifted closer and slid his middle finger inside her, pressing his palm against her clit, stroking her hard and fast, his other hand resting casually around his water glass.

He wondered if she could pull it off—come undone right here, thoroughly fucked by his insistent fingers—without anyone suspecting.

Haley tensed again, leaning forward, her head down.

That’s it, baby. Let go…

Max thrust another finger inside her, hard and deep, and she fucking shattered, her hands clamped down on the table edge, body twitching as she rode out the orgasm.

Her thighs trembled, her chest heaved with the effort of holding back, but no one but Max knew what had just gone on under the table. His fingers were slick, and when she finally sat up straight again, it took everything in him not to pull them up to his mouth and taste her, like he’d been dying to do all fucking night…

“Haley?”

It took a second for Max to realize that her cousin had finally stopped yammering on about the pipeline. Instead, he was staring intently at Haley, brow furrowed in concern.

“You all right?” he asked. “You seem a little… flushed.”

“Just… I need… um… water.” Haley grabbed her glass and brought it to her lips, her eyes shut tight, her throat bobbing as she chugged the water.

“He’s right,” Max teased, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. “You do look a little flushed. The chicken wasn’t that spicy to me. Guess you can’t handle the heat.”

She shot him a warning glare, but that fucking smile said it all.

I surrender, Max Killian.

Haley held up her empty glass. ”Will you go get me another drink?”

“More water?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Gin and tonic. Make it a double.”

M
ax was leaning
against the bar, waiting for Haley’s gin and tonic, a Jameson for her cousin, and the Coke he’d ordered for himself, thinking that this whole fake boyfriend thing had a lot of fringe benefits, when he felt the ominous tap on his shoulder.

He knew immediately who it was. Only a douchebag would go for the shoulder tap instead of just walking up to him like a man, looking him in the fucking eye.

Max let out a long, slow breath, then turned around. The only thing keeping him from pummeling this asswipe was Haley; Max’d just been introduced that afternoon as her boyfriend, and he didn’t want to make a scene in front of the whole family.

“Brian,” he said coolly. “Need a drink?”

“Don’t play that tough guy bullshit with me, bro.”

Jesus fucking Christ.
Max wasn’t in the mood for another pissing contest with this asshole—not when his girl was waiting for him at the table, still coming down from the stealth orgasm he’d just administered—but the dude was leaving him no choice.

“Listen,” Max said, forcing himself to stay calm. “I don’t know what your beef is with me, but Haley’s made it pretty clear where things stand with the two of you.”

Brian looked at Max as if he were speaking fucking ancient Sumerian.

“She made her choice,” Max tried again, speaking slowly this time. Keeping an eye on Brian—the guy seemed like the type to play dirty—he set a twenty on the bar and collected his drinks. “Gotta respect that, man.”

Brian took a step closer, poking his finger close to Max’s chest. He wasn’t actually touching him, which was lucky for him. The second he made contact, Max would lay his ass out, no questions asked.

“You may have her fooled,” Brian said, smug as fuck. “But I know
exactly
who you are.”

“That a fact?” Max raised an eyebrow.
This oughta be good.

“You’re that
lifeguard
.”

Max’s blood ran cold. “That lifeguard” could’ve meant a hundred things, but Max could tell by the sneer on his face and the way he’d pronounced it—like he was saying “you’re that
dog shit
I just stepped in”—that he was only talking about one thing.

The one thing that had divided Max’s entire life into two completely different halves: before, and after.

Of course it had been in the papers. The news vans were down here for a week after, interviewing anyone who’d give them the time of day, chasing Max with their cameras and incessant, unanswerable questions.

He’d just been hoping Haley’s family was out of the loop. After all, Haley didn’t seem to recognize him, and her Aunt Bev didn’t either—she wasn’t the type to hold back juicy gossip.

Now, Max had two choices. He could drag this asshole outside and kick his ass. Or he could let the bastard spout off his nonsense, get bored, and move on, which was the smart and polite thing to do.

Yeah, fuck that.

Max set down the drinks and reached for the guy’s shoulder, intending to grab him and shove his ass outside so they could deal with this shit as men.

But Haley—sweet, beautiful, freckle-faced Haley—stepped right between them, wrapping her hands around Max’s forearm.

“Not worth it,” she said to Max, her green eyes pleading. Her touch diffused him instantly. In a low voice meant only for him, she said, “Besides, if anyone gets to hit him, it’s me.”

“What are you waiting for?” Max asked. Unlike Haley, he didn’t give a fuck if Brian heard.

“Monday,” Haley said.

“Why not now?”

“And risk messing up my sister’s precious wedding pictures? No thanks.” Haley laughed, but it was nervous and high. The tightness was a harsh reminder of the situation: they were here at a restaurant, in public, with her entire family. It was her sister’s rehearsal dinner. And Max wasn’t really her boyfriend, wasn’t really charged with defending her honor. He had no claim on her. He was just a convenient stunt-double, passing the time until they could head back to his bedroom and fuck each other brainless.

He’d lost sight of that, and he’d let this fuckface get under his skin.

Brian tried to talk to Haley again, but before he’d even finished saying her name, she had her hand up to silence him. She hadn’t even turned to face him. Her eyes never left Max’s.

No sooner had Brian slithered away, Caroline—Haley’s mother—popped up in his place. She had the kind of big, curly hair that was popular in the 80s, making her appear taller than she really was. Haley had her eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended.

“Haley. What on
earth
is going on, sugar?” Her mother narrowed her eyes at Max, the accusation obvious. “What happened with Brian?”

“Mom.” She laced her fingers through Max’s and leaned her head on his arm. “This is Max, my boyfriend. Remember?”

Caroline forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The woman seemed exasperated, but Max couldn’t imagine why. “This is your sister’s big weekend, and you’re stirring up the hornet’s nest.”

Haley was staring at the ground. “I know.”

“Brian’s really worried about you.”

Haley nodded.

“Can we just… can we all try to get along,” Caroline said, “for Anna’s sake?”

Haley took a deep breath, and Max waited for her to unload, to tell her mother to take a hike. But all the fire in her fizzled out. Shoulders slumping, she nodded, apologizing, and promising her mother she’d make an effort to smooth things over.

Caroline kissed her daughter’s cheek, picked up the gin and tonic that was supposed to be for Haley, and walked off.

Haley let out a frustrated breath. She looked like a dejected teenager, embarrassed after a parental scolding. It made his fucking heart hurt.

Max didn’t get it. Haley wasn’t some wilting flower—not with him. But when it came to her family, she backed down every time.

“Haley.” He touched her chin, turning her face up so she’d meet his eyes. He wanted to tell her to take a stand, to set things straight with the whole family. But when he opened his mouth, his own doubts crept in.

You can’t even deal with your own shit. Who the fuck are you to tell her how to live her life?

And the most obvious, glaring thing that he kept, for some dumbass reason, forgetting:
You’re not her fucking boyfriend, asshole.

So when she finally looked at him, her eyes full of vulnerable hope, Max took the easy way out. Nodding toward the bar, he said, “You still want that drink?”