Love Struck Bad Boys - 3 Novel Box Set

by Amber Burns

  It takes a few stomach-roiling, muscle-tensing dips to-and-fro before we’re level.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nods. “Fine…” It’s a meek response, but I attribute it to the shock and let it go.

  A breathy chuckle is just the thing I need to loosen my tongue. “I thought you did yoga. Isn’t that all about balance anyways?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t expecting that fish.” Vanna frowns.

  “That’s what freaked you out?” I follow her finger to see the school of mid-size brown trout swimming by the boat. “Man, I should have brought my Pops’ pole. Can we even fish here? I’ll have to ask the front desk for next time.”

  I realize what I say a little late.

  11

  Vanna leans back on her end, her hands, previously gripping the edge of the canoe, move down and fold together in her lap, her gaze moving down with the action.

  Shit.

  “Can’t believe it’s getting dark already,” I tilt my head up to the sky, watching the clouds roll one after another, giving an illusion of knocking into each other. Once I have a handle on my emotions, when I’m sure I won’t say something I’ll regret the second it’s out of my mouth, I face her.

  She’s still playing a diligent student studying her hands.

  “Let’s head back.” I control the urge to spit the words.

  I get the canoe going, forgetting our feathered companions until cold water sprinkles around the back of my head over to the side of my face. I’ve got the boat in the middle of a uey.

  Clearing out of the way, this time both loons kick off a gust of water and skitter over the surface to safety.

  “Ah!” The splash jolts Vanna to yelp and it startles me into loosening my grip.

  “Fuck, the paddle,” I’m cursing and reaching for the lost paddle in the same breath. Its handle is within my grasp. My fingers slip through, brushing the surface of the cold lake, without avail.

  It floats further and further from my grasp and I’m left slowly chasing it with a two hand grip on one paddle. At the snail pace I finally manage to get a grasp on the paddle and rein it in.

  Shaking off the water, I right my grip and get the boat going, completing the turn and stroke in the direction of the shore.

  I note, a little belatedly with the shore in reach, our shoes are sloshing in lake water that’s leaked over the edge into the boat. That and Vanna’s soaked. My sweater is soggy, jeans heavy, but it’s water down my back where my girl looks miserable.

  Covering her nose, she sneezes. And sneezes and sneezes.

  “Crap,” I row harder, hoping to buy back the time I spent hounding and retrieving the runaway paddle.

  Just as with her injuring herself with the bubbly, the last thing I want is Vanna sick. That’s a sure way to shit on any plan to woo her, let alone hope for sex when she’s all snot-like, coughing and feverish.

  We hit ground.

  I’m hopping out earlier than I would normally, hardening against the chilly lake water lapping about calf-high. I wade to the shore, hands gripping the boat and dragging it back to get purchase on grounding.

  “Hold on.” I call back, making sure Vanna’s in the safety of the boat – although at this point she’s about wet as can be and I can’t see the huge difference the lake can do. “Hold on, baby.” I say again.

  I drag the canoe far enough to the beach for it to stay, and making sure it won’t float backwards into the lake and create a hassle for that old lady guide, I go back for Vanna.

  She’s stepping out of the boat all on her own and I catch her from making the deadly mistake of setting both feet on the edge of the canoe. It leans and she’s falling into my ready arms with a short yelp.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” I hold her from my chest only far enough as necessary to study her. Her dark hair is matted to her scalp, curling from the combination of water and the low fortyish temperature.

  “It’s c-c-cold!” she clenches out the affirmation past dry lips, her teeth clattering loud, body sinking into my embrace. Her dark lashes flutter close, brushing along her cheeks and stopping dead any chance at reading her emotion.

  I’m still for all but a minute and then I realize I have to get her inside. I thought I was happy the first time I entered Pearlwater Lodge earlier, now I’m ecstatic.

  The walk up the sloping trail from the beach to the higher level where the Lodge is seated took much longer than it should have.

  I had to haul Vanna into my arms and carry her into the chalet-inspired hotel over her weak protests.

  “A-Amos, I’m f-f-fine. You d-don’t h-have to c-c-carry me.”

  “Try to say that sparing the teeth, and I’ll believe you.” I sound cold, frigid, but it’s all about tough love. Okay and I might be irked that she’d rather suffer alone than have my helping hands…and arms.

  To punctuate my demand, I hoist her up and renew my grip under her soft, fleshy thighs and around her middle. Vanna responds by squeezing her own hold about my neck, her face dropping into the crook of my neck at the entrance implying her defeat on this one.

  We’re suddenly the hot commodity in the building. The front desk reaches to assess us, and I keep my explanation short and quick.

  “All we need is a shower and a warm bed.”

  Either my urgent tone or Vanna’s pale, wet complexion, maybe both, keeps them from holding us any longer. “We’ll send hot towels right away!” is the last I note before leading Vanna on our trek back to our room and the promised shower and bed.

  I’m pleased to see the staff cleaned up after Vanna and I left.

  The bed has even been re-made, complete with another two packages of chocolate mints over each pillow. I realize settling Vanna on the bed in her wet clothes is probably not a smart plan.

  I’d have to start by getting her in the shower then, warming her blood a bit and getting her dry.

  “Amos?” she sounds groggy.

  “What is it, babe?”

  “Can you take me to my purse? I have painkillers in there,” Vanna lifts a hand from around my neck and digs the heel of her palm to the side of her head. “Ah, headache.”

  “First let’s get you clean and dry, then the pain medication, then bed okay?”

  She doesn’t reply, her head gently dropping back on my shoulder. I toe the bathroom door, again not swept up by the elegant glass and sandstone and marble interior, and I drop the toilet seat with some acrobats from my shoe again.

  Lowering my foot, I right my balance and transfer Vanna to her feet, steering her in the direction of the toilet.

  “Sit, wait.”

  I get the bath running, deciding a shower would mean further complications and maybe having to strip down and join her just to get her clean. Whatever lust-freeing spell the lake cast is wearing off, and fast, I’m growing hard once more.

  Thinking of Vanna naked and wet stuck between me and the tiled wall of the shower fares no better than the image of Vanna sitting between my legs in a perfumed bath, my hands washing her tits, soaping down her soft belly to her clit and beyond, wondering where her own wetness starts and ends under the warm, scented water.

  I’m leaning by the corner tub, pressing the weird gadgets to get the temperature right and waiting for it to fill halfway and adding the hotel-labelled scented gel stuff women eat up.

  “I think I did that right,” I’m mumbling, glancing back to check on Vanna. She’s using the glass sink as a makeshift pillow, her head in her folded arms, eyes closed –

  “Vanna.”

  “Hm?” she stirs awake, head wavering up, a yawn and sneeze not too far behind. Her palms are up to her temples again and she’s squeezing her eyes, softly groaning, “What is it?”

  “You can’t sleep yet.” I’m crouched in front of her, hands on her knees and even that simple contact is forcing me to acknowledge my erection. “Take a bath, you’ll feel better, and then call me when you’re done.”

  I leave.

  I leave because I would
n’t be able to control myself from helping, and then my Good Samaritan deed would slap me in the dick in more ways than one.

  Releasing the knob of the bathroom grudgingly I’m at a loss as to what to do next. I figure getting the bed ready might keep me busy, and it does, for all but a few minutes.

  “Now what, Fuller?” the question comes out muffled around a chocolate mint. As I suck the dark chocolate off the mint center, I find myself unlatching the sliding doors and stepping out into the patio balcony.

  A low whistle is harder than it looks with a mint in your mouth.

  I’m lifted by the sight of the quiet lake, the darkening sky and the lights and laughter floating from the lower lounge and common areas. Closing my eyes and sniff, I confirm the scent of smoked meat and can’t stop my watering mouth.

  My surprise doesn’t end there.

  Moving from the rail, I explore what turns out to be a connected deck. I take the two steps down to the Jacuzzi and carefully peer at the identical sliding doors to the suite next to ours.

  The curtains are drawn and when no one peeks out to warn me away, I cover the last few steps to the hot tub. The longer I check out the tub, the more I fantasize about taking Vanna in the midst of the gushing stream of hot water.

  I don’t even mind the implications of getting tossed on our asses for fucking in the public tub.

  Figuring I’d dawdled enough to kill the time waiting for my girl to finish her bath, and given myself one more reason to wish Vanna and I could have sex in any form tonight I retrace my steps to our side of the deck.

  Vanna’s unmistakable shape is on the further side of the bed. She’s facing me, but the covers are blocking all save her forehead and the spill of her dark, wet hair over the towel covering her pillow.

  She’s got to be the only girl I know who could pass up an opportunity to sit in the tub for hours if she could.

  Closing the sliding door with as minimal sound as possible, I stoop to unlace my sneakers and slip them off by the door, approaching the bed with measured steps.

  “Vanna,” I whisper, confirming her sleep. Yet concern and curiosity have me gently tugging the cover down to reveal her face. I’m reaching out, one knee digging into the empty side – my side of the bed.

  Each time I look at her, really look at her, I fall a little more, want her that much more, give her a piece of my peace of mind and the chance to utterly break my spirit, my thirst for marriage and family and…home.

  “Morning,” her eyes flutter open suddenly, small smile tugging her alluring mouth. It makes me wonder if she was sleeping at all.

  “You’re several hours off,” I drop to her level, head nearer the corner of my pillow, the closest to Vanna. I’m resisting the natural inclination to close the gap with a kiss. “Did you take the painkillers for the headache?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And you feel better?”

  She bobs her head a couple times, looking zonked out to be telling the truth. Either way I’m going to have to trust her.

  That important piece out of the way, my gaze is trailing down her face to her mouth. I really want that kiss now…

  I’m at that knuckle-biting, one hand reaching point.

  She’s right freaking there, and all I have to do is…

  Don’t go there, Fuller. Look the eff away.

  But what kind of man passes up this opportunity?

  A decent man who actually has a backbone to wait until his girl is wide-awake, alert and begging for it.

  Fuck my black-and-white, sometimes gray, sense of good and evil, and right and wrong.

  I can’t put my horniness and hope for sex in front of her health. Even if we end up checking out without getting one more taste, it’d still be a fair trade knowing Vanna’s happy and healthy.

  So I do the moral, good-guy thing: “I’m going to take a shower.”

  My shirt and jeans have dried off significantly since the test-dip in the lake; the shower is more to keep me occupied until Vanna’s asleep again, saving me from groping her, and to do something about my cock. Like a cold shower kind of something.

  Vanna’s ahead of me.

  “Night,” she’s mumbling, eyes shutting, her features relaxing as she sinks into another round of light sleep. As soon as I’m sure here breathing is light and even, I slip out of the bed and tuck her in away from the world.

  I linger to riffle through my overnight and grab my PJs.

  A thought has me stopping with my hand over the bathroom’s doorknob. I hadn’t given Vanna a change of clothes, so…

  “Not even going there.”

  I shake my head, hoping I didn’t cause her too much trouble by setting her up to go out of her way, sick and tired as she appears, to fetch her own clothes. And I’m definitely not going to.

  Punctuating the point by locking the bathroom door this time – not taking chances if Vanna wakes up, knocks like before with the Champagne only this time walks in on me; thus making any efforts to rid myself of her, for at least until we see if the meds work on the hint of her cold, completely useless.

  “Fuck that feels amazing.”

  It’s bliss to pull down my jeans and free my dick from its partially wet confines. I peel my underwear down my legs and kick it atop the pile with my shirt and pants.

  Despite my plans for a cold shower, I keep it lukewarm, dragging my hand and going the alternative method to controlling my lust.

  My hand moves faster and faster over my shaft. I get grip on the shower and squeeze my eyes on the reel of Vanna, every memory I can draw from of her under me, over me, around me…

  Her tits are bouncing wildly, rosy nipples hard and pointed, the sound of our slapping thighs raising in pitch and pace with our nearing climaxes, and final her mouth frozen on my name, which is really nothing but a long wailing signal matching her grasping cunt muscles, my semen flying into her, and milked dry of my seed, I gather her into my arms.

  “Ah, fuck,” I groan through a jerky release, my eyes snapping, palm splayed against the tile, white, stringy cum shots splattering the wall. I seize with the aftermath of the pleasure, tugging myself free of cum, and dropping my flaccid cock only when I know I’m done.

  For now.

  Cleaning myself and the shower, I step out, towel dry and change much quicker than the jerking off.

  That felt like a blissful eternity…that’s shattered on meeting an empty bed.

  Here I am steeling myself for Vanna, for another rousing erection and the prospect of lying beside her in a late afternoon nap while thinking off anything but sleep and all the things I could do to her wake her up.

  I ignore the stirring in my low gut, the twitching from my dick –

  Down, boy. We gotta find our girl first.

  Erection under some control, I hold the hand towel round my neck and begin my hunt for Vanna.

  My first hunch is my only hunch. Vanna is racing up the short flight from the hot tub-side of the outdoor balcony deck. Her head is down until she’s about a step and arm’s length away and as usual looking delectable and tempting, moving me towards forgetting all about the pain-staking shower to temporarily stall my very active, very annoying libido.

  “Well, hello there.” I’m not sure if it’s the jocular tone or my smile that’s set her at ease, but she’s relaxing from whatever that got her tense in the first place.

  “Um, hi,” she sucks in her lips, arms slightly folded over her chest, fingers squeezing her bare, supple arms.

  “Any particular reason why you’re not in bed, snoring away that headache of yours?”

  “I don’t snore!” she’s pouting those kissable lips now. “It was hot in there. I wanted fresh air.”

  “Dressed like that?”

  I’m not complaining. I’ve honed in on her tits, the obvious indents of her nipples pushing against the white, cotton of her fitted t-shirt.

  No freaking ginormous shirts now.

  Vanna seriously packed small though – literally. The mini shorts are pai
red with black leggings, but they’re so damned fitted she might as well have gone without and saved my heated imagination some time.

  “It’s fine,” she’s saying. “I’m really not that cold. It’s actually kind of nice out here.” She turns to face the lake, eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds, the time it takes her to visibly inhale and exhale.