Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(100)
—ChrissyMcBookNerd.blogspot.com “The awesome cover opened to even more awesome things inside. It was realistic! Funny! Charming! Sweet!”
—AbigailMumford.com
Bad boy Donovan Pate has only painful memories of Evergreen Cove. But when he returns home, a beautiful woman from his past may be his second chance at love…
Please see the next page for a preview of
Rescuing the Bad Boy.
PROLOGUE
The mansion ate light. A row of sconces lining the hallway cast a yellowish glow across the foyer, doing little to illuminate the floor, the thick drapes covering the windows, or the staircase leading up to the murky beyond.
One of Donny Pate’s hands cradled Sofie Martin’s incredible ass as his mouth explored hers, the length of his body pressing her against the heavy wooden door. Her, he could see. Every pliant inch felt as amazing as it looked.
He breathed into her ear, bit her earlobe. She arched her back, rubbing her little black dress against his sweater and jeans. All the blood in his head rushed directly to his pants. He’d kissed her once at the bar, for several minutes in his Jeep when he’d arrived at the mansion, and now this up-against-the-door thing was trying every last ounce of his willpower.
He might die if he didn’t get inside her soon.
It’d been a shit week, one he’d rather not think about, followed by a shit night that was turning out pretty damn good. Tonight’s company Christmas party had been boring as hell, but the manager at the Wharf required everyone to be in attendance if they wanted to get their bonus check. And Donny, since he was leaving this godforsaken town the minute the check cleared, needed that bonus.
The Wharf’s dining room had been decorated with cheesy decorations, “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” piping through the ancient sound system. Donny had relegated himself to chain-smoking and drinking with his jackass coworkers, making tonight like every Saturday. Until the tip of Sofie’s upturned nose poked around the dividing wall. Then his evening had taken a decidedly more interesting turn.
She’d been watching him tonight, sending furtive glances across the room while pretending to sip the same beer she’d ordered the moment she walked in the door. Then she’d caught him watching her watch him and a tiny smile curled her lips.
Sofie looked like a girl bent on making a mistake. She’d come to the right guy. His recently deceased, formerly belligerent old man never let a moment pass where he hadn’t reminded Donny he was, in fact, a mistake.
Donny had felt her eyes on him for a few months now—dancing over him as she entered the kitchen for her shift before refocusing on something far less intriguing. In between the clatter of cooking utensils and the tall steel shelves separating the cooks from the waitstaff, there’d been more than a few moments where he’d caught her moss-green eyes on his.
Whenever she’d turn away, he’d let his gaze travel south. Even through the unflattering industrial-wear the Wharf required for the waitstaff, he’d noticed her body. Donny wasn’t an ass man, but Sofie’s had a healthy curve to it, and enough cushion to give his imagination plenty of ammo.
A month or so ago, she’d earned a lifelong nickname on a dare. He’d made that night’s special for Sofie’s tables at least nine times. He’d been in the weeds, sweating over four sauté pans going at once. “One more shrimp scampi ticket hits my window, Sofie, I’ll brand you for life.”
For a change, she hadn’t looked at him like she was intimidated or tongue-tied. Her lips had quirked into a completely adorable sideways smile, and she’d marched out to the dining room and sold not one more special, but three to her very next table.
Tonight when the same look of determination crossed her face, Donny ignored all the blaring sirens in his head telling him to leave her alone. Good girl or not, he’d have her tonight.
Consider it a farewell present to himself.
“Scampi,” he said now against her mouth, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth.
“Donny.” He could tell by her breathy response, she liked that. He squeezed her ass again and a small squeak left her lips. She liked that, too.
Against her mouth, he smiled.
Every damn time.
Smiling wasn’t really his thing. What did he have to smile about? Nothing, normally. But now, a cute brunette rubbing against his cock, her cheeks warm despite the air leaking through the gap beneath the mansion’s door, her lips dropped open in a reverent sigh… hell yeah, he had something to smile about.
He grabbed another handful of her butt, admiring the mess he’d made of her hair when he’d kissed her five, ten… hell-who-knew-how-many minutes ago.
“Library, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his head toward the room on his left. The closest room in proximity to the front door held an ugly red velvet couch and a thick white rug. He would happily lay her down on either. He’d even let her choose.
“Okay,” she said against his mouth.
He tightened his hold on her—appreciating again what a glorious, cushy ass she had—and lifted her off the ground. He was six four, so he guessed her around five and a half feet. Once he’d slept with a chick who was five nothing; he remembered her being short, but not one other thing about her. He doubted this would be the case with Sofie “Scampi” Martin.