Suddenly Sexy (17 page)

Oh God, everything was slipping beneath her, around her. Inside her.

He stopped kissing her and flattened his palm against her stomach, under her pajama top. "I said it because you're too intelligent for me." His hand moved higher and cupped her breast. "Too organized." He thrummed her nipple with his thumb. "Too good."

"Oh." Who said that?

"Guys like me," he muttered as his hand moved south, down her pajama shorts, "drifters, don't deserve sensible girls."

"I'm sensible?" If she was sensible she wouldn't let him do this to her, wouldn't allow him to rip the rug from under her feet.

But if his fingers kept doing that then who cared? She could live without rugs.

"Yeah." He knelt in front of her and slowly drew her shorts down her legs. They puddled at her feet and she felt his hot breath on her thigh. He licked. "Sensible."
Lick
. "Mature."
Lick
. "Organized."
Lick
. "And so goddamn sexy I can't get enough of you."
Suck
.

Ah!

"Maddie, baby."

"Mmmm?" She tried to concentrate but it was like swimming through mud so she stopped trying and just let go and wallowed.

"Promise me you won't change," he murmured against her.

"Whatever you want."
Oh yes, there
. "Just don't,"
aaah,
"stop."

She felt his grin. "I like you the way you are. With one exception."

"If you tell me will you stop talking?"

He grabbed her rear and pulled her into him and Maddie had to grip the back of the couch to stop herself floating away.
Now, oh please, now
. A ripple of heat started between her thighs and spread across her skin, laying every nerve ending exposed in its wake. It was too much, too intense and she was going to die if that heat didn't explode and consume her.

"Let yourself go for me."

Somebody howled. Maddie didn't care if it was her.

Much, much later, Maddie curled into Sam. Her heart was full and her body loose. She felt content, happy. Like she was exactly where she should be.

"Thank you," Sam murmured against her hair.

She frowned. "What for?"

"For forgiving me for calling you a nerd."

"Like you said, it was a long time ago. I was probably being silly for worrying about it."

"Yeah, but it did worry you, and that worried me." He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. His hair was a little mussed, his eyes smoky, his cheeks flushed. He was totally hot. "Maddie, I want you to know that I think you're perfect the way you are. Don't change a thing."

"Not even the tendency to over-plan everything?"

"Especially that. I need that in my life. Speaking of which." He caressed his hand down her thigh, sending little tingles spiraling through her. "I'm sure you have a plan for what you're going to do next."

She glanced down at his groin. "I certainly do."

He laughed. "I like that plan, but I was referring to your life outside the bedroom. Are you going to look for another job?"

"Actually, I've been doing something a little different these last few days. I was thinking of getting into decorating. Turns out I've got a knack for it. Who'd have guessed?"

"Me." He kissed her nose, her chin, her ear. "I saw you had good taste as soon as I walked into this place. So how about we team up?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll renovate old houses and you'll put the finishing touches on them. Curtains, tiles, paint colors, that sort of thing. We'll sell at a profit if we buy the right sort of house in the right area." He leaned back to look at her. "So what do you think?"

"I think that you just made a plan, Sam Hennessy. The stars must be aligned or something."

"Is it a plan that you like, though? It would mean spending a bit of time together."

She reached down beneath the sheets and stroked him. "In that case, count me in. On one condition."

"What?"

"That you help me to loosen up. Teach me to be spontaneous."

"I said I liked you the way you are." He licked her nipple and she whimpered as sparks shot through her. "But sure, whatever you want. Let's start now. I know a great way to help you loosen up."

He disappeared beneath the sheet and she gasped when his tongue hit the right spot. Oh yeah, she could get used to being spontaneous.

THE END

Kendra Little writes sexy romance and erotic romance. Read free excerpts at her blog:
http://kendralittle.blogspot.com
. Follow her on
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.

For now, please read on for an excerpt of BILLIONAIRE BAD BOY

Copyright 2013 Kendra Little

CHAPTER 1

"You're boring," spat the spiky-haired kid on the TV.

Annie McCallum blinked at the screen then glanced at her colleagues sitting around the boardroom table. She expected to see shocked expressions but only saw resignation. It seemed that none of the other agents at McCallum and Horton wanted the kid to elaborate. Maybe he was right.

"Boring?" she prompted. She'd been called many things in her life, but boring wasn't one of them. Okay, so she'd started at McCallum and Horton straight out of college, she'd never lived outside LA and her love life could use a little something—like a man. And she probably lacked the get up and go of other LA agents, especially on Monday mornings before gulping down her second cup of coffee. But she was
not
boring! She refused to be boring. It wasn't good for her image as one of the top agents of the LA music industry.

Except she wasn't a top agent. Not even close.

"What do you mean boring?" She tried to keep the scathing edge out of her voice—not an easy task. She needed to be careful. She was talking to one of the most popular artists of the moment, and they wanted his business. They
needed
his business. He may be a snotty-nosed, high school dropout with a bad haircut, but Dug-E-Dug was the hottest artist around. His latest single
Don't Call Me Dumb
had been number one for four weeks and his concerts were a raging success.

"Yeah, you heard me. You're all as dull as, as..." Dug-E glanced around, his eyes focusing on someone to his right, out of camera shot. "...as my mother."

Dug-E's mother's head popped into view.

"Hello, Mrs. Douglas," said Bob Horton in his smooth agent-voice. "Nice to see you again."

The silver-haired woman with the wire-framed glasses smiled sheepishly at them and stared into the screen. She leaned forward, eyeing the equipment with suspicion, giving the McCallum and Horton agents an unpleasant view up her nose. It was like something out of a horror movie. The four seated around the boardroom table instinctively leaned back.

"You must forgive my son," Mrs. Douglas said. "But he has a point."

"A point?" Bob said.

"Yes, a very valid point," she said in her schoolteacher voice that made everyone sit up straight. Everyone except her son. "He's a young, up-and-coming artist, Mr. Horton. He needs freedom to express his personality through his music, and his life outside of music. He feels—we both feel—that a younger, more hip agent would understand him better. I do apologize," she added sincerely. "But we feel Douglas's talent should be nurtured not stifled."

No
, thought Annie,
but his obnoxious personality should
. Just ask every five-star hotel manager on the West Coast whose rooms he'd smashed to pieces last month.

"Right, er, of course," Bob said. "That's a real shame, though. We have some great ideas for him."

Annie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're not giving up yet are you?" she stage-whispered across the table. "Just like that?"

"He's not interested, Annie, let it go," he whispered back.

Mrs. Douglas leaned forward again, this time turning and placing her ear closer to the screen. Clearly she hadn't mastered the art of video conferencing. The volume control was on the remote.

"What did you say?" she shouted.

Annie glanced at Bob. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and dabbed his brow with his handkerchief. He wanted Dug-E. McCallum and Horton
needed
him. Ten years ago the firm had represented some of the hottest talent on the charts but those groups hadn't performed in years and the young kids all went to the flashy, glitzy agents who got them entry into the hottest parties in town. McCallum and Horton just wasn't that kind of firm anymore. The party-throwers they knew had all grown up and become respectable citizens of LA with budding wild children of their own. The only vomit they cleaned up in the middle of the night now was a baby's.

Annie hadn't been around in those days. She'd joined the firm seven years earlier as a young assistant straight out of college. In that time she'd worked her way up to becoming one of the firm's most sought after agents. Well, as sort after as any of McCallum and Horton's agents were, which was nowhere near as much as her late father, the agency's co-founder, in his day.

"We understand," Bob said quietly, his jaw squaring as firmly as his double chins would allow.

Annie could tell he was working up to something. His face had that look—a look she hadn't seen since her father's death ten years ago. Ambition. He glanced around at his three agents seated at the table. They stared back at him, waiting expectantly as if he were the Messiah about to announce a prophecy. His gaze settled on Annie. Oh boy.

Slowly, very deliberately, he turned back to the screen.

"I was saying that we have the perfect agent for your son, Mrs. Douglas. She's young, she's...er, hip and wired." He looked pleased with himself. "Yeah, wired. We think she'd be perfect for your son. She knows all the happening places. All the cool gigs."

Annie rolled her eyes. She only knew about cool gigs
afterward
when she read about them in the paper.

"Well, where is she?" Dug-E snapped. He peered into the screen, just as his mother had done, his pimply face coming into frighteningly detailed focus.

Lenny, sitting next to Annie, cringed and gave his undivided attention to his blank notepad.

Bob indicated Annie. "Right here." He grinned, the unexpected movement shaking his jowls like a turkey's.

"Um, Bob, can we talk—"

"Later," he whispered, still smiling.

She sighed. Great. She was about to be hung out to dry.

"Annie McCallum," Bob announced.

The pimply boy on screen glared at Annie for an eternity, then made a face. "Nup. Boring."

She squirmed in her seat. She had a million retorts to make and if she wasn't within earshot of a prospective client, she wouldn't hesitate to let one out. But she bit her tongue. Literally. The taste of blood snapped her attention back to the screen.

"She's very far from boring, Dug-E," Bob said quickly, his salesman's face still frozen in place. It was the one he turned on when he wanted to charm, to knock the socks off someone important. He rarely used it these days. Maybe it was about time he did. Annie just wished she wasn't the object he was trying to sell, and that Dug-E wasn't the buyer.

The teenager leaned back in his chair with an audible thud, a sneer of disgust distorting his features. He stabbed the pinky finger and forefinger of his left hand at the screen. "She's wearing a suit," he accused.

"Er, that's only because we make her wear one in the office." Bob winked at Annie. "She's really one wild girl. She rides a motorbike to work and parties all night. Oh yeah, and she always comes to work hungover, don't you Annie?"

She blinked at him. The person he'd described sounded disgusting. It may be exactly what Dug-E wanted in an agent, but it was an outright lie.

"Annie?" Bob prompted, his face turning salmon pink when she didn't answer straight away.

"Yeah," she drawled. What the hell—she'd go along with his plan. For now. "I'm real...bad."

The relief on Bob's face was worth the effort, if nothing else. At least that dangerous reddish tinge subsided.

But Dug-E didn't look convinced. "What sort of bike?"

Uh-oh.
Think, Annie, think
. "A Ducati," she said on a breath, recalling a name from one of the bikes in the motorcycle shop she passed on her way to work.

It must have been the right one. Dug-E looked impressed. He grinned and nodded. "Fine," he crooned. "Real fine. How does she do?"

She? Do? Were they still talking about a bike? "Um, good. Rides like...the wind." Annie
felt
the men around her cringe. Well, it was the best she could come up with on short notice. "She's a beautiful piece of metal," she added.

"She's more than metal, Lady, she's a sweet piece of ass."

"Yeah, sweet."

Dug-E's expression sobered and his face became a blank canvas. She could practically hear the cogs slowly grinding in his brain. Then he brightened. He pointed both be-ringed forefingers at the screen. "Okay, I'll give her a chance. But if she doesn't live up to my high standards, I'm going with Jamieson and Jamieson."

Pity his high standards didn't extend to his personal grooming.

Bob made an appointment with Dug-E's mother and the screen flickered off with her waving at the camera and Dug-E looking bored. Then he turned to his agents, eyes sparkling. "Okay, Annie, you're our girl. Go for it."

She blinked at him. "Go for it? Are you insane? Have you lost your mind?"

"What's wrong? You're perfect for this."

"Perfect! You just made me sound like a...a rebel." She threw her hands in the air. "I don't know anything about motorbikes or parties or drinking beer. I haven't been drunk since 2006 and even then it was only because someone spiked my soda. I'm not my father, Bob." Nor was she the daughter Reg McCallum had wanted her to be. He'd wanted a wild child, like himself. A party animal and socialite. He'd got a daughter whose idea of rebelling was to go to the library after school instead of straight home.

Bob shrugged. "Then you'll learn." He nodded at the other agents. They stood and left the room. When the door closed behind them he placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. On anyone else it would be a threatening move, but on a big teddy bear like Bob it was hard not to smile.

"Look, Annie, you're our last chance. You're the only agent under thirty here. Hell, you're the only agent under fifty. We need you on this one. We can't lose Dug-E to Jamiesons."

"Why not? He's a snotty-nosed little—"

"Now, now. It's attitude like that that sends the kids elsewhere." He wagged a disapproving finger at her but there was no real admonishment in his tone.

"But I'm no hip and happening young thing, Bob. I can't give Dug-E what he wants. I don't know what boys his age do."

"Don't worry. I've got the perfect person to teach you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Teach me what?"

"To ride a motorbike for starters."

"You're really going to make me get on one of those dangerous things? I could get killed."

"Calm down, Annie, you won't be killed. He's a great teacher. He'll make sure you don't even fall off."

She rolled her eyes. "Gee thanks. Is he going to teach me how to drink beer, swear like a sailor and flash my breasts at passing trucks?"

He grinned. "If you ask him nicely."

She crossed her arms and tried hard to swallow her simmering temper. Bob had been good to her, giving her a chance. He may have done it in memory of his best friend, but he'd stuck by her even though she didn't bring in as many clients as her father had. She owed him and she would love to repay him by getting Dug-E. But did she
have
to drink beer?

"So who is this amazing teacher?"

"A friend of mine. We've known each other for fifteen years."

"Fifteen? How old
is
he?"

"Thirty-four."

"Isn't that too old to be a rebel?"

At least thirty-four was better than eighteen. He might not be as juvenile as Dug-E. Although he was male...

"He's perfect for the job."

She groaned. The noose tightened. "I can't wait to meet him. What's his name?"

"Zack DiMarco."

She laughed, but Bob didn't join in. "The millionaire?"

"No. The
billionaire
."

"Why would Zack DiMarco teach me to ride a motorbike and drink beer?"

"Because we go way back."

"You must be close."

He shrugged. "I'll give him a call. I'm sure he'll free up some time to take you on as a student."

"Yeah." She sighed. "What better things does a millionaire have to do but teach me to be a rebel?"

"Billionaire."

***

Zack answered his cell phone on the third ring. "Yo."

"Zack? It's Bob."

Zack broke into a smile at the sound of his friend's voice. "Hey, Bob. Long time no see. How's business?"

"Great. The most lucrative deal of the decade just landed on McCallum and Horton's table."

"Yeah?" Zack saved the spreadsheet on his laptop and closed the file. The financials of Deet Electric could wait. It wasn't often Bob called him. It must be important.

"We've got the chance to sign up a young rapper, Dug-E Dug—"

"That's his name?" Zack laughed. "Sounds like a gardening tools manufacturer I bought last week."

Bob chuckled. "He's about as smart as a shovel too. But we haven't got him yet. He thinks we're too old for his image." He snorted. "What would he know? McCallum and Horton invented cool. We put the hip in hippie, the roll in rock 'n roll."