Bad Love

by Jaci J

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Niko’s an asshole, has been since I met him, but then we had sex, and now we’re going to some fancy black-tie deal together. It just kinda feels weird.”

  Lucy gives me an understanding smile. “You’re not used to a good guy hanging around you.”

  “A good guy?” I’m not sure Niko qualifies as a good guy.

  “I mean, I get it, he’s a prick. But I think he’s a good guy under it all.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I mumble, checking myself one last time in my small entryway mirror.

  Opening my mouth to argue my point, Niko chooses that moment to knock on my door.

  My heart stutters to a halt.

  He’s here.

  At my door.

  Lucy gets up and walks into the living room, and I follow. I know she wants to see him. I want to see him.

  I look at her, then back at the door. “Open it,” she tells me, flicking her hand at me.

  “I’m nervous,” I whisper, giving her a sideways look.

  “Of what? You already had sex with him. What more is there?”

  “What more is there? Uh, everything?”

  Lucy rolls her eyes, taking a step toward the door, her brows raised in question. “I’m gonna open it if you don’t, and if he sees and falls in love with me, then you can’t be mad at me.”

  That makes me laugh, and it’s hard to hold it in. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m just sayin’.”

  Niko knocks again, this time louder. I can feel the sound in my chest. I’m inches from the door, my heart in my throat and my stomach near my ankles. I don’t know why I’m so damn nervous. It’s just Niko.

  “Open the damn door, you chicken shit,” Lucy chastises. “Before I do and he falls in love with me at first sight.”

  Taking a deep breath, I grab the knob and pull it open.

  Niko is standing at my door, his large frame taking up the entire space.

  “Hi,” I say softly, my voice jumpy.

  He’s disturbingly handsome. Hands shoved in his pockets, he’s looks me up and down slowly, appreciatively.

  He’s wearing a pair of black trousers, tailored perfectly for his long muscular legs. A black button-down open at the collar, with the tattoos on his neck visible, and a suit jacket, unbuttoned and casually open. Casual, carefree, and sexy, he looks every bit the arrogant asshole that he is.

  “Shay,” he greets me, eyes raking down my body again. “Ready?” Niko steps aside, giving me space and jerking his head for me to follow.

  Looking back at Lucy, her eyes are wide and she mouths, “Holy shit! That’s him?”

  I nod, a little dumbstruck myself.

  Lucy fans herself, falling back onto my couch dramatically.

  Giving her a little wave, I follow him out the door. “No ‘how are you’? Or ‘what’s up’?” I ask, following him down my stairs toward the parking lot.

  Niko holds the door for me, stepping aside to let me out of my building. “You want formal, baby?” he teases, watching my face.

  I lick my lips and smile.

  Parked in front of the stairs is his pretty black car. Opening my door, Niko leans against it, head cocked. “How are you, Shay?”

  “Nervous,” I answer honestly.

  He lifts a dark brow. “Nervous? Why? These people are just pretentious assholes.”

  That’s not why I’m nervous. “It’s you.”

  His brow just keeps climbing. Hand on his chest, as if wounded by my remark, he asks, “Me? Why the fuck you nervous with me?”

  Sliding into the passenger seat, I laugh. “You scare me.”

  Niko nods, as if agreeing. “Good.” Shutting my door, he walks around to the driver’s side.

  Sliding into the seat, he turns and looks at me. “You scare the fuck outta me too, baby.”

  Niko

  ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL and the other on Shay’s thigh, I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I drive. Sitting there in that tight as fuck skin colored dress and red lips, sexy as hell, she’s so goddamn tempting. So goddamn bad for me.

  She’s fucking with the radio again, skimming through static before she stops on a station.

  “Behind Blue Eyes” comes through the speakers.

  Jesus.

  “Moody music,” she tells me, turning in her seat. “I’m feeling moody.”

  “You’ve got some weird taste in music, baby.”

  “Eclectic.”

  “It’s something. So, you’re moody, huh?” I tease, sliding my hand farther up her thigh, just under the hem of her dress. “When are you not moody?”

  Narrowing her eyes at me, she purses her lips. “Pot, meet kettle, asshole.”

  She’s got me there. I am an asshole. Moody. Grumpy. Mean.

  “Why you moody?” I ask again, more serious this time, interested in the answer.

  She’s looking at me, staring, and that shit makes me uncomfortable. The way she looks at me, reading me, is un-fucking-nerving. Big brown eyes, deep and soulful. “You make me moody.” She runs a finger under her lips, fixing her lipstick. “I never know what Niko I’m going to get.”

  “What Niko do you want?” My fingers tease the skin of her leg. I can’t tell if it’s affecting her, but I know goddamn well it’s affecting me. Touching just that little bit of her skin makes me hard as hell.

  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to think I don’t like mean Niko, but clearly that’s not true because here I am, sitting with you, and you were an asshole today.”

  “How was I an asshole?”

  “Didn’t give me much of a choice about coming with you tonight.”

  “Don’t pull that shit. You know goddamn well you do whatever the fuck you want, no matter what I say.”

  Shay looks out the window, hiding her satisfied smirk. She knows I’m right. “I just don’t know how to feel about you. One minute you’re a complete and total asshole, and the next you’ve got your hands in my panties, and I’m agreeing to do a black-tie dinner with you.”

  Good. She shouldn’t know how to feel about me, because there’s not much to feel anything about. I am who I am.

  I don’t do relationships anymore, not since my ex-wife. I married her because she told me she was pregnant. I thought I was doing the right thing, but the bitch was a liar. She wasn’t pregnant.

  “Don’t overthink it, Shay. Just enjoy this shit.”

  “Too late.”

  “This is fun, yeah?” I ask her, talking about us, watching her, gauging her reaction to my question. It must be good because she smiles, hiding it behind her hair.

  “It’s fun.”

  “Then don’t overthink shit. Just have fun with me.”

  She nods, chewing on her lip. “Fun,” she mutters.

  “Won’t be fun if you don’t stop chewing on that fucking lip,” I groan, pinching her skin.

  Shay jerks her head around to look at me, her lip popping free from between her teeth. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about.”

  “What?”

  “The shit you say. Why won’t it be fun if I don’t stop?”

  “Because I’m gonna pull this car over and replace that lip with my dick.”

  She looks shocked for all of two seconds. Her pupils dilate and her cheeks turn pink. “Jesus, Niko.”

  “Then stop chewing on that motherfucker,” I tell her, looking at her again. I’m taken back to the day I gave her a ride to the bar, the day that started this whole thing, as I watch her reach down and pull a lipstick out of her purse. “Your pretty car sucks.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. No mirror,” she informs me, putting on some matte red lipstick, or whatever the fuck it is, on her perfect little lips. “Makes it hard to do my makeup.”

  “You don’t need that shit,” I counter, meaning it. Shay is beautiful with nothing on her face or her body.

  “So,” she
starts, puckering her lips and smacking them together, making my dick twitch. “How fast can this fancy, nonfunctional car go?” She looks at the speed limit sign we pass, the one that says fifty on it, and then looks at me, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  “Fast.”

  Brow quirked, she goads, “How fast?”

  I give her a little gas and watch Shay’s eyes widen, and a smile tug at her lips. “That’s not very fast.”

  “You tryin’ to get us arrested?” I ask, pushing down the pedal a little more.

  This motherfucker has power. I can get her to a hundred in under ten seconds, and what I’m giving her now is nothing compared to what she can do on the right road in the right conditions. But it gives Shay what she wants, because she’s smiling wide, enjoying the ride.

  “She’s fast!” she squeals when I hit ninety on the highway, tires eating up the pavement.

  That makes me laugh. “She’s fast,” I confirm, chuckling at the way Shay’s eyes light up.

  “And kinda sexy, even if she doesn’t have mirrors.”

  “Only kinda sexy?” I ask, hitting a hundred on a straight stretch.

  Rolling down her window, she sticks her hand out, catching air with her fingers. “Have you ever had sex in her?”

  “Nah.”

  “Wanna change that?” Rolling her head on the headrest to look over at me, I see the devil dancing in her eyes.

  Wrapping my hand around her thigh, I squeeze, digging my fingers into her skin. “Pushin’ your luck, baby.”

  19

  Shay

  “You call me baby a lot,” I muse, letting my eyes flutter closed when Niko’s fingers draw small circles on the inside of my thigh. His touch makes me shiver. “Might make a girl think you like her more than you do.”

  I let my legs fall farther apart the higher his hand goes.

  In Niko’s car, driving down the highway along the Pacific, I feel peaceful, lost in his touch, the music, and the vibration of the engine.

  “Just a word, baby.” A word that could mean more to a lesser woman, a woman with her head in the clouds and her heart on her sleeve.

  “Do you call every woman baby?”

  I watch him shake his head, looking at me quickly out of the corner of his eye. “Nah, just you.”

  “You’re a smooth talker,” I tease quietly, my breath hitching when he pushes between my thighs, his fingers brushing my panties.

  “I’m real.”

  I don’t know if I trust those words, trust when he says I’m the only one, but it’s a nice thought, especially in this moment.

  “Real scary.”

  Niko chuckles darkly, the sound harsh. “Baby, the only person in this car that’s scary is you.”

  “Me?” I whisper, wishing his hand would travel a few inches higher, right where I need it. “How am I scary?”

  “You’ve got the potential to break a lot of fuckin’ hearts in your lifetime, to ruin some men.”

  That shocks and surprises me. “The only person with a broken heart is me.”

  Niko looks at me. “The next man that breaks your heart will answer to me.”

  But what if it’s you? The question sits on the tip of my tongue, sharp and painful. Because since being with Niko, I can’t imagine being with another man.

  NIKO TAKES MY HAND after opening my door, helping me out of the car and tucking me into his side.

  The night air is cold, mist blowing in with the wind.

  “Wow,” I breathe, doing a full turn, taking in the home. I’ve never seen anything quite like this place. It’s a mansion.

  It’s right out of a magazine.

  Above the rocky cliffs of the Pacific, tucked between tall pines, sits a palatial stone mansion, a stone driveway wrapping around a fountain in the front. There are stained glass windows, turrets, and arches. The home is breathtaking, one of a kind.

  Niko doesn’t say anything about the home. He only nods, agreeing. If he’s impressed, he doesn’t let on. He just holds my hand, walking next to me.

  There are people everywhere, all impeccably dressed in exquisite ball gowns and perfectly tailored suits. Every single person screams wealth and decadence, and power.

  I look down at myself, my beautiful dress not quite as beautiful as I had thought it was an hour ago.

  I’ve never been more out of my element than I am tonight.

  Niko gives my hand a squeeze when my steps falter. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I answer, lying through my teeth. I’m not okay, I’m nervous as hell. Surrounded by all this wealth and privilege is way beyond me, and quite frankly, not my thing.

  “You sure?” he questions, leaning down and speaking softly into my ear.

  I don’t answer, but I nod.

  Walking up the large stone steps toward the front door, we’re stopped by a woman wearing all white, holding a clipboard. She looks very official, and very stressed. “Name?”

  “Niko,” he tells her.

  I watch her eyes scan her list before nodding and waving us by.

  We walk up the stairs and through a group of photographers at the top, all of them shouting at Niko, clearly recognizing him.

  They want his picture.

  Niko doesn’t stop for photos, and I’m thankful for it. I’m not sure I could pose and smile right at this moment.

  “No pictures?”

  He frowns down at me. “Fuck no.”

  “Embarrassed to be seen with me?” I tease, pretending to be offended.

  Niko doesn’t like it.

  Stopping, he pulls me around and in front of him. “Don’t say shit like that.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t fucking like it.”

  “Sorry,” I whisper, melting when he kisses me on the lips. I can hear the photographers shouting, the click of their cameras catching our kiss, and I don’t care. The only thing I care about is the way Niko devours me, his lips hungry, while mine are needy and desperate.

  “Niko,” I moan, my legs going soft.

  He growls, holding me up with an arm around my waist. “They got their fucking picture.”

  Laughing, I let my head fall against his chest when he pulls away from my mouth. “I guess they did. I don’t like it.”

  “Why? Maybe you really are embarrassed to be seen with me?” I joke. He takes my hand again. “No more fucking pictures. And it’s not because I’m fucking embarrassed,” he adds, giving me a quick, chastising look before letting it melt into a smile.

  “You sure?” I joke, smiling back.

  “Fucking positive, baby.”

  We walk in, the room grand and opulent, with beautifully decorated tables surrounding a hardwood dance floor. Lush silk curtains line each window that overlook the ocean. Bouquets overflowing with exquisite flower arrangements are on every surface, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the coffered ceiling. I’m in awe.

  Niko doesn’t let me go, not when he’s stopped twice within a foot of the door. He doesn’t ignore me or leave me out when people ask him about himself and how he’s been. He shows me off, proud to have me as his date, and I wish it didn’t make me question everything I told myself I’d never do again when it came to a man.

  “Excuse us,” he says, pulling me away from an older man in a suit. “My girl looks like she could use a drink. It was nice seeing you, Harold.”

  His girl? Jesus.

  “Two,” I mutter, squeezing Niko’s large hand.

  “Two what?”

  “Drinks.”

  He chuckles. “What do you want?”

  You. “Red wine.”

  Niko nods, leaning onto the bar and toward the bartender. “A red wine and a whiskey neat.”

  Leaning back against the bar, Niko smirks down at me. “Thanks for answerin’ your door tonight.” Putting me at arm’s length, he says, “Do a spin for me, baby.”

  “What?” I laugh.”

  “You heard me, Shay. Do a spin for me. I want to see you.”

  If
any other man asked me to do a spin for him, I’d be embarrassed and self-conscious, and I’d tell him no. Niko asks me and I do it. I take his hand and spin, slowly, letting him lead me around. Niko looks me up and down, moving over every inch of my body.

  “Bad idea, baby.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I just want to fuck you raw.”

  “Niko...”

  He chuckles darkly. “Don’t worry, Shay, you’re safe for a little while longer. Dinner’s about to start.”

  Niko

  SITTING NEXT TO ME at a round table in the middle of the room, leaning into my shoulder and her arm on mine, Shay watches everyone in the room with her big brown eyes and an even bigger smile.

  The auctioneer, an old fucker, finally takes his place at the podium. “Welcome to Newport’s Annual Auction,” he says into the mic.

  Everyone claps, Shay included.

  “Last year we raised well over three million dollars, and we’d love to double that this year,” he tells the crowd, everyone still clapping. “So, get your paddles ready, ladies and gentlemen. We want to make this our best year yet.”

  The screen above him shows a picture of a vase, and everyone oohs and aahs over it. “We’re starting the bid at two thousand.”

  For a fucking vase? I don’t understand this shit.

  A couple paddles go up, including Shay’s. Surprises the hell out of me.

  “The fuck, baby?” I ask, pushing the paddle down. “What are you gonna do with a two-grand vase?”

  She shrugs. “Put expensive flowers that you’re gonna buy me in it?”

  “No bidding on shit,” I groan, trying to take away her paddle and her power. The woman’s had a couple of glasses of wine, and now she’s got a paddle. Shit can’t be good.

  “I’ll bid on whatever I want,” she fires at me, eyes narrowed, jerking the paddle.

  Crossing my arms, I lean back, giving her free rein. “All right, baby, do your damage.”

  Who the fuck am I to ruin her good time?

  She bids on a couple of things halfheartedly: the vase, a chartered fishing trip, and a Sea-Doo, until a Mexico vacation comes up, and that’s when shit gets out of hand.

  “Item ten, a five day and four night all-expenses paid trip to the Mexican resort of your choice. We’ll start at five thousand.”