Sweetly Bad


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Drew couldn’t imagine anything worse than being stranded in a two-cellular-bar town with a broken-down Ferrari…until his mother—his own mother!—marked him as a rogue Air witch and canceled all his credit cards. Now he’s kill-on-sight in the Underground, and the only person willing to help him is the curvy human mechanic who towed his car. A strangely delectable curvy human mechanic.

The last thing Erica needs is a yuppie playboy freeloading in her garage. Still, she can’t bring herself to turn Drew out into the sultry heat, even if he is a bit of an ass. A gorgeous, incorrigible, everything-your-mother-warned-you-against ass. Soon the heat isn’t the only thing sultry in the garage and self-control is the last thing on her mind. They agree to a one-night stand, but Drew’s magical secrets are dangerous—and catching up to him fast.

Hot and explicit sex with the right (plus-sized) woman just might redeem this bad boy hero.

The stand-alone sequel to Wickedly Good.

Available from:

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Excerpt

Erica stood, silently seething, in the office at quarter to seven. The pizza crusts hadn’t been touched. Three Coke cans lay discarded on the counter beside the computer. And a stained paper towel was draped over the keyboard. Luckily the stain was from red sauce rather than what it could have been.Clearly Drew’s idea of cleaning up and hers differed greatly.

A sleepless night following the frustrating day and evening meant Erica was in no mood to babysit a grown adult at her day job. She stomped through the garage, past the slightly charred Ferrari and burst into the backroom with the intention of starting a scene.

Drew lay sprawled on the cot, nude except for a gray blanket. The thin fabric coiled around one golden thigh, provocatively hiding what he’d no doubt consider his pride and joy. Her protests lodged in her suddenly dry throat.

He’d been gorgeous in his seersucker suit. Without it… He was so out of her league.

Erica slowly backed toward the door and hoped against hope he hadn’t heard her smacking the metal or the subsequent doorknob crashing into the wall. His next breath was uncharacteristically long. And then his head came up. She froze with her hand on the wall.

“Whu?” he mumbled in a way that shouldn’t have been endearing but somehow was. Drew rubbed at his eyes with his fists. A yawn elongated his mouth.

Erica took another step back.

He dropped his arms to his sides. The motion threatened to drag the blanket aside. She forced herself to make it the rest of the way out before she saw any more.

“Oh. Mornin’, babe.”

Erica halted midstride.

Babe? Babe? He’d called each and every one of the women he’d phoned yesterday babe. And now he was calling her that.

She stomped back into the room, no longer affected by his sleep-tousled hair and sloppy smile. “I’m not your babe. I asked you to do one damn thing in exchange for sleeping on my cot—to clean up the pizza crusts. You made the mess bigger!”

Drew stared at her uncomprehendingly for several seconds. When his mute reaction continued, Erica’s disappointment turned inward.

What had she been thinking last night? Thank god she’d gone home instead of coming here like she’d considered every time she tossed alone on her bed.

“I didn’t expect you yet,” he said with a boyish crack of his voice. “I would have cleaned it after I woke up.”

She opened her mouth to shout about business hours and the responsibilities of real people but ultimately clamped her lips tight. He was a grown man who shouldn’t need the basic lesson in common courtesy. But he did.

Drew was a lost cause.

Erica stomped out without another word. Perhaps she should tow his car down to Boston simply to be rid of him. Then her shop would go back to normal. She’d only be out the gas and the mileage.

But it was the principal of the thing. He’d probably had everything handed to him since he’d been born—including the Ferrari she’d never be able to afford.

“I’ll get it,” he called after.

She quickened her pace so she could beat him into the office. “Don’t bother.”

“Erica, I’m sorry. Really. I had a rough night. All I could think about was how my own mother refuses to help me. Ae—er, hell, she’s made the situation even worse.”

Erica’s frustration deflated at his gloomy answer. Drew was having a rough time. His day had been much worse than her night babysitting kids who needed a little discipline. Maybe she should go easier on him.

She turned once she reached the counter and promptly forgot what she’d been about to do. Drew stood at the door wearing only a pair of navy silk boxer shorts, looking like one of those mysterious perfume advertisements with the smoking-hot foreign hunk. The vision of all those toned muscles coated in golden skin made her mouth go cottony.

He strode forward, heedless of the effect he’d had on her. She remained motionless in her spot while he gathered up the plates of half-gnawed pizza crusts. Strangely, Drew used the trashcan across the room.

Was he trying to get her going by bending toward the can when he could have easily dropped the paper plates in? And did he know the silk left little to the imagination when he folded in half like that?

Torment seemed to be his goal when he slipped behind her and fetched the discarded Coke cans. He brushed against her thigh on the trip, sparking awareness up her body. Again he showcased a perfectly plump ass when he tossed away the cans. Erica swallowed a wistful sigh.

She hadn’t actually let it out, had she?

Drew returned to the counter, for what, Erica couldn’t guess. His torment resumed when he sidled up to it—the surface hiding his lower half. Posed like this she could imagine he was nude behind the furniture. All that smooth…nearly perfect flesh. She focused on the two-inch wavy scar just above his left pec. How had he gotten that?

He exhaled softly through his nose. Erica’s attention snapped upward. Her cheeks warmed at the knowing smile he’d adopted when he caught her staring at his naked chest.

Had he been awake in the other room while she stood gaping like a teenager?

“What can I do to make it up to you?” His velvety voice lowered. “Erica?”

Several suggestions graphically inserted themselves into her thoughts, complete with limbs bending in impossible directions. Her neck seared with embarrassment. Criminy, what was she doing?

She cleared her throat. “You took care of it before any customers came.”

The left corner of his lip twitched.

Erica’s vision dipped to the six-pack etched in his abdomen. She’d never seen one in person. Not even Jared was this physically fit.

Stop, she silently hissed, forcing her attention up.

Drew’s gaze made an attentive sweep over her chest, much as she’d done to him. “I gotta say, you’re looking…fresh this morning.”

His lame attempt at a compliment put her in attack mode. “Yesterday I was fat. Today I’m fresh. What will I be tomorrow? Dapper?” Erica twisted toward the computer, covering up her discomfort. She shouldn’t have mentioned tomorrow. Chances were he’d be long gone by tonight.

“I didn’t say you were fat. I distinctly recall saying you were attractive.”

“Whatever. I need to get some things entered—”

A pair of hands gripped her waist. She’d heard no movement and yet Drew had appeared behind her. How did he do that? More importantly, why had he done that?

“So attractive that when I wasn’t thinking about my mother last night, I was thinking about you.” Drew’s murmured words, and the intimate waft of his breath, sent shivers against her neck until she worked out what he’d said.

“Yeah, um, that’s so not sexy. I hope you didn’t mean it to—”

He dropped a moist kiss to her neck. It was three times hotter than the slopped kiss he’d given her yesterday. That made it half as hard to ignore.

“You’ve been fucking me with your eyes since I woke up,” he said. “I’m more than game if you are.”

Erica craned her neck until she could see his face. “Honey, you’re not game.” Sarcasm thickened her tone. “You’re the whole damn tournament.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder. A blank look glazed over his eyes. “What?”

She opened her mouth to remind him of the list of women he’d called yesterday. A quiet little voice whispered for her to shut it. He’d offered sex—this down-on-his-luck Ferrari owner who was the hottest thing to ever pass through Stoddard. She’d never get this chance again.

What would it be like to have him only once without fearing what would happen tomorrow?

She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Tina had called her a serial monogamist. That described Erica perfectly. She’d never been with a male for less than a year. But none of those had worked out well in the end. Maybe it was time to loosen up and just have fun. Abysmal kisses aside, Drew looked like the kind of guy who knew how to have fun.

Erica inhaled a shaky breath. There was only one way this could work—a one-night stand.

“I’m game. Once,” she placed heavy emphasis on the allotment, “and only once. Tomorrow you leave one way or another, if I have to tow you to Boston myself on credit. Deal?”

Rather than answer, Drew spun her to face him. His mouth came down over hers. The sucking motion of his slippery lips was reminiscent of a fish gasping for air on land. Erica shoved at his shoulders. Disgust pinched her nose at the sight of his mouth all puckered and smacking.

“But first,” she paused, making sure she had his attention, “we have to do something about your kisses.”

 

What was wrong with his kisses? Drew had never heard any complaints before.

Before. When he’d been a wealthy member of a prominent family. Now he was poor and the family’s prominence was in question. Every woman he’d discarded felt free to come clean.

Two days ago he’d have scoffed at Erica and told her she couldn’t do better than him—bad kisses or not. Having twenty-three witches reject him had a humbling effect on a guy.

“What’s wrong with my kisses?” Was that his butt-hurt voice?

“It’s like you’re trying to suck off my face.”

“I’d think you’d want me to suck you off.”

Her mouth twitched. “No, you want me to suck you off—”

“I do.” His dick lengthened as he imagined her sinking to her knees exactly where she was.

“First, you have to do something about how wet your lips are when you kiss,” she said, ignoring that she had only half of his attention while he was in the throes of a raging fantasy. “I’m no expert at this but maybe you should discreetly wipe your mouth on your sleeve.”

Drew brought his arm up, pointing out a flaw in her plan. He was nude from the waist up. Yet rather than make a new suggestion, she merely stood waiting.

Was she pointedly ignoring the erection tenting his silk boxers? Or was she that blind? Whatever the case, Drew wanted her. And she wanted…

What had she wanted?

Ah, right, the kissing lesson.

He tentatively brushed his mouth with the back of his hand. “What if they’re too dry now?”

“They’ll be fine. Now don’t lick them or you’ll ruin the effort.”

He took a step forward. His intent was clear—to kiss her. She shut him down with a palm to the nose. Erica’s sober expression was visible between the fingers splayed over his face.

“Second, you’re not actually supposed to devour a girl’s entire head when kissing.”

“I can’t help getting into it,” he mumbled against her hand.

“Try starting soft. Think of teasing with your lips.”

He wanted to tease something with his lips. It wasn’t her mouth. Erica would taste sweet.

“Brush them against the corners,” she said. “Tease beneath the lower lip. Lightly kiss the entire mouth. Then and only then should you increase the pressure.”

“Babe, that’s not always the—”

Don’t call me babe.” She emphasized her displeasure with a squeeze on his sinuses. The hint of pain hit his eyes. “That’s what you called half the female population of Manchester yesterday.”

She was strangely worked up about other women, given her demand for this to be a one-night engagement. Nonetheless, he wanted that one-night engagement. He’d apologize even if it went against his nature.

“Sorry, Erica. It won’t happen again.” Her furrowed forehead prompted him into action. He smoothed a palm up her arm, rubbing at her elbow with the circular motions that had always gotten women going in the past. “Tease with my lips. Light at first. What’s next?”

She relaxed in two-seconds’ time. “Don’t shove your tongue down a girl’s gullet. You’re not excavating a cave, you’re making love to her mouth.”

Drew took advantage of the topic shift to press himself against her. She was soft and warm—better than the sumptuous bed with Egyptian cotton sheets he’d missed for the past two weeks. His erection settled between her thighs, close to where he needed it. “I want to make love to more than your mouth.”

Her breath puffed against his cheek, filling his nose with the fragrance of coffee and something sweeter. “Later—”

One swift tug on her elbow had her plush breasts smashed against his bare chest. She gasped, a sound he cut short when he brushed his lips against the right corner of her mouth. Erica’s skin tasted of sugar—perhaps a flavored lipgloss. He wanted more of it, all of it, but recalled he wasn’t supposed to devour her no matter how much he wanted to. She went pliant against him, a marked change to how she’d behaved since she hopped down from her tow truck the first time.

He lifted his lips from the right side of her mouth and deposited them on the left portion. Her small sigh ruffled his hair. He stealthily flicked it back in place. Erica’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Drew needed to touch her breasts. It was integral to his continued existence that he have at least one in his palm in the next few minutes. While he distracted her with the teasing smooch beneath her lower lip, Drew tugged at the tank top she’d left hanging over her waistband. She snuffled—a pleased sound if he’d ever heard one. Was that for the not-kisses? Or for the shirt he was about to remove?

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