Moody Bastard

She’d been just a…baby. She still was.

She was trouble with a pallet, dammit, whoever gave her one to buy a man for a night was an idiot. Any other man would not hesitate to take her to bed. There was something about her, the innocence she emanated, the way those blue eyes gutted you. It was really hard to say “no” to this girl.

But even if she weren’t demanding his promise, Damien wouldn’t do her on the simple principal that she was a good girl and he was the bad guy still trying to get over the way he’d broken his heart ten years ago.

It hadn’t exactly been fun for him.

Definitely not fun, being put in the awful role of saying “no” to her.

“I promise you,” he agreed, then cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. “But tell m

e why you’re so intent against it now?” When you begged me for it before…

“I’d rather curl up with a bulldozer, that’s the attraction you hold to me, just to be clear.”

He glowered. “Your little bones are not exactly cuddling material either.”

“Look, I’m still a virgin,” she said, opening her door. “And I want to give my v-card to Court.”

His glower intensified. She wanted some guy named Court to take her virginity?

That was mighty damn fine with Damien.

He had a whole harem of women waiting for his attentions. He wasn’t fighting anyone over Sydney Morgan. Especially some guy named Court.

three

Damien Knight was entering her feminine lair, and Sydney started to perspire.

He looked a little moody and quite sexy, the bastard. It wasn’t helping things at all.

He flexed his muscles as he followed her into her apartment, and she didn’t like that her steps became so wobbly as she led him to the spacious living room. As he casually surveyed the nice cream L-shaped couch and matching chairs from her small, but high-end apartment, she took the opportunity to survey him.

Her eyes raked along his enormous form and deliciously built physique, and she became acutely aware of her breasts and how they pressed into her bra. They grew inordinately heavy as he stretched those muscles up over his head, his abdomen flat, his biceps long and taut. He pulled each arm to his side, long like a swimmer’s, but hard as a bodybuilder’s. Her nipples pushed up against her bra, like when she watched a romantic scene on TV with Court.

He plopped down on an oversize chair, her favorite chair, actually, and stretched like a cat, lazy, big, making her apartment feel infinitely smaller. “Well? Do you have anything to drink?”

“I have water. I don’t drink and neither does Court.”

He waved a hand. “Court, Court, sounds like a girl.”

“Please don’t insult him.”

“If a woman comes to a man begging him to seduce another asshole, the other asshole doesn’t deserve to be seduced.”

“Court is just socially awkward, all right? He doesn’t catch on subtle hints like other men do.” She strode to the kitchen and poured water from a pitcher, wondering why her heart was pounding so hard.

When she came back, he gripped the glass in his big hand, and she watched as he took a long draw.

“All right, Sydney. So how much do you know?” he said, setting the glass down on the nearby table, his dark black eyes looking at her.

She sat on the carpet a few feet away from his chair, heart still kicking into her ribcage. “I guess I know the basics.”

“Tell me what the basics are to you.” He leaned forward, leaving only about a feet between them. “Have you been kissed?”

His scent whirled around her, the same dark forest scent she’d picked up on in the car. She rubbed her nose, uncomfortable. “Several times in the mouth. But Court only kisses my cheek.”

“Has a man put his tongue in your mouth?”