Good to Be Bad (Double Dare Book 1)

by Patricia Ryan

  “I didn’t want to,” she said, a little breathlessly, as she fumbled with his belt buckle. His heart pounded; he felt light-headed. “I kind of like going without it.” She worked at the buttons of his straining fly, her fingers grazing him with a maddeningly light touch. He throbbed; his hips quivered with the need to push. When she reached inside his briefs and closed her hand around him, he moaned helplessly.

  He kissed her again, thrusting into her fist, burying his fingers in her damp heat, feeling her swell hotly in response to his caress. She slid her fingers over the drop of fluid on the tip of his rigid cock, and now her grip was wet and tight as she urged him closer...

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered hoarsely.

  And closer...

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

  And...

  “Stop.” He whipped his hand out of her jeans and closed it over hers, stilling her. “Stop. Stop. Let’s go inside.”

  “Let’s stay out here.” She sat up and shrugged off her sweatshirt, pulled her T-shirt over her head. “I like it out here.”

  As she wriggled out of her jeans, Gage looked around at the darkened terrace, at the buildings silhouetted against the sky, black on black with a few dimly lit windows. It was a moonless night, and the dense foliage shielded them from view; no one would see them.

  Emma touched his shoulder. He turned around and smiled. She was naked, exquisitely, perfectly, breathtakingly naked, and he wished it was high noon so he could really see her, drink her in, but this would do fine, this was just great, she was...

  “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” He smoothed a hand down her arm and felt goose bumps. “But you’re cold.”

  “Just a little.”

  He unfolded the afghan and draped it over her, then quickly undressed and got underneath it, wrapping his body around her, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips...

  “Better?” he murmured against her throat.

  “Yes.” She threw her head back, arched her body against his. He cupped her bottom and pulled her against him. “Yes.”

  They writhed together languidly as they kissed, their breath coming faster, their movements growing ever more insistent, more focused on release. Gage hovered right on the red-hot edge, craving that release like he’d never craved it before; he could take her right now and explode in a matter of seconds, but he’d promised her he’d do this right, and he meant to keep that promise. That meant he had to take it slow, make sure she was ready, that it would be perfect for her.

  He slid his hand between her thighs and found the hard little knot of her clitoris, lightly fondling it. She groaned, and he took a stiff nipple between his lips, suckling it as he continued the intimate caress. She tasted so sweet, felt so good in his mouth, so right. He could do this forever.

  “Gage...” She raked trembling fingers through his hair, her body going taut, her breath coming in pants.

  “Open your legs, sweetheart.”

  She did. He pushed a finger inside her, both thrilled and daunted by her virginal tightness. She was wonderfully wet, though; that would help.

  She took him in her hand and whispered, “Now.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  EMMA’S HEART JACKHAMMERED in her chest as Gage felt around for his jeans on the floor of the terrace. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing calm on herself as she heard him rip open the little packet, his breathing as ragged as hers.

  He settled between her legs, holding himself stiff-armed above her. The afghan slid down, but she didn’t feel cold. “Bend your knees, Emma... that’s right.” He leaned down to kiss her softly, and then he reached between them. “Now raise your hips just a little.”

  Embracing his waist, she tilted her hips, closed her eyes.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  She did. And then she felt a pressure, hard and insistent, where she was so inflamed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you this time.” He pushed in a little, just a nudge, really, but she felt as if she’d been opened wide. “You must be sore from this afternoon, so I want to go slow. Tell me if I hurt you.”

  She nodded. So far it didn’t really hurt—not like it had before, when he’d rammed in so hard and fast. She did still feel raw from this afternoon, but mostly just intensely aroused.

  “Is this okay?” he asked shakily, pressing in. He felt incredibly thick, unyieldingly solid, but she stretched to accommodate him.

  “It’s fine.” More than fine; it was astonishing, a gradual penetration of her body that felt at once so impossible and yet so right. She felt invaded; she felt completed.

  Inch by inch he filled her, his entire body rigid with strain. From time to time he paused to let her snug passage accept this assault and relax around him. It worked; he slid deeper and deeper, without causing her pain, until finally, sheathed entirely within her, he sank on top of her and kissed her, a long, achingly passionate kiss.

  He braced himself on his arms again and withdrew slowly. “Okay?”

  She nodded.

  He sank back in with one slow, smooth thrust; she lifted her hips to meet it. He did this again, and again, his expression a strange mixture of concentration and pleasure. She watched him, fascinated by his intensity, by the beauty of his leanly muscled body as it flexed and released. He stroked her from within, grinding his hips against hers when they came together, coaxing her toward culmination.

  She banded her legs around him, pulled him down and held him close as they rocked together, not as slow now, nor as gentle, both of them gasping in time with their thrusts, their bodies sweat slicked in spite of the cool night air. He kissed her, and there was something almost desperate about it, and about the way he pounded into her, clutching her too tightly, but she felt the same delirious panic, and it was so achingly sweet that her eyes stung with tears, and she moaned as the end approached....

  He broke the kiss. “I can’t hold off.”

  “Don’t,” she rasped as the tears spilled out. “Come inside me. I want to feel it.”

  He went still, groaning into the crook of her neck, his only movement a frantic shuddering deep inside her. His pleasure ignited hers; she wept as she came, her body clenching his as if to keep him in there forever, when all they had was tonight.

  He held her tight, rubbing his wet face against hers, murmuring something in a strangely raw voice. It was her name, she realized, whispered over and over, like a litany.

  EMMA AWOKE to the driving beat of drums, soon accompanied by voices screaming, “Shark! Shark!”

  A drowsy male voice grumbled, “What the everloving fuck?”

  “Shark! Shark!”

  Emma opened her eyes. Everything was white. She was naked, and she was in a white room resplendent with morning sunshine, lying on her stomach between white sheets, beneath a white down comforter.

  She was in Zara’s bed.

  There came a brief, dissonant instrumental interlude, followed by screams of “Go!” and something about a…

  “Sharknado?” Gage said.

  She turned her head and saw Gage next to her, also lying on his stomach, looking at her, his eyes scorchingly blue amid all that cool whiteness.

  He smiled.

  She smiled, too, then turned away from him to grope around on the night table—her fingers brushing two empty condom packets—until she found her mother’s iPhone, which she propped against her ear.

  “Hello?” she said groggily as she glanced at the nightstand clock: 9:42. That meant they’d gotten about four hours of sleep. She felt Gage lower the covers past her bottom, which he fondled affectionately.

  A man’s silky voice said, “Ah, you are there. I just tried your house in Queens, but there was no answer. I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay there—the place is a fucking shithole, totally trashed.”

  The voice chuckled softly. Something clicked in Emma’s brain; she heard herself saying, “You should know—you’re the one who trashed it.”

  The fondling abruptly ceased. Gage
clambered on top of her and bent his head to the phone; she held it so they could both hear from it.

  “Point well taken,” the caller conceded, amusement in his voice.

  “What did you do with my mother, you piece of shit?” she demanded. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gage look at her; she couldn’t tell whether he was appalled or impressed.

  “She’s really something, your mother.”

  Oh, God, he does have her. “Have you hurt her?”

  “You’ve got to admire a woman who manages to stay in that kind of shape at her—”

  “What have you done with her?”

  “She’s unharmed,” he said indifferently. “For the time being. Interested in keeping her that way?”

  “She’s my mother. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re going to trade me the ray gun for her.”

  Emma and Gage exchanged a look that said of course.

  “That’s all you want?” Emma asked. “Just the ray gun? No money?”

  “The ray gun is money.”

  “So I gather. Let me talk to my mother, make sure she’s okay.”

  “I’m not actually with her at the moment.”

  “How do I know she’s not—” The last word caught in Emma’s throat.

  “She’s alive. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  “Right.”

  “You have no choice,” he said. “I’ve got the upper hand here.”

  Emma had no argument for that. “How do we make the trade, then?”

  “You have the gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s gonna go down in Central Park—the lake, near the fountain. Meet me at eleven o’clock with the ray gun—you and the cowboy both. Is he there?”

  “Howdy, partner,” Gage drawled into the phone.

  “No heroics, Jethro. This is gonna be a clean, simple exchange. You folks give me the ray gun in Central Park at eleven, and I release Candy Carmelle three hours later. I’ll let her out near Rockefeller Center at two o’clock—look for her there.”

  “Why the delay?” Gage asked. “Why can’t you just hand her over when we give you the ray gun?”

  “’Cause your girlfriend there can’t be trusted. Same goes for her sister, and you, too, as far as I’m concerned. No way I’m gonna give you Candy without taking that ray gun home and looking it over real good to make sure it’s authentic.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Emma said.

  “That’s the way it’s gonna be,” the caller said. “And a word of warning. If I catch the faintest whiff of cop while this is going down, if I even casually suspect, for a second, that you’ve let the police in on our little transaction, I guarantee you I’ll make Candy Carmelle scream like she never screamed in the movies, and in the end you’ll be identifying her waterlogged body in the morgue. Don’t call my bluff on this one. I’ll do it. Remember the subway?”

  Emma didn’t bother answering that.

  “See you at eleven.”

  Click.

  “That was Mac,” Emma said.

  Gage rolled off Emma, urging her onto her side and wrapping his arms around her from behind, so that they were tucked together front to back; then he pulled the covers over them. His body felt so warm, so solid and comforting. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Little things. I suspected it, but I wasn’t sure until he said he was gonna take the ray gun home and look it over to make sure it’s authentic. That’s something a dealer in these things would say. That was MacGowan Byrne.”

  “You were smart not to let him know you’re on to him. He’d probably waste all of us if he knew we could identify him.”

  “I’m afraid that’s exactly what he intends to do, anyway. Mostly I’m afraid for my mother. Kidnappers don’t always let their victims go, even after the ransom is paid. I don’t like this business about giving him the ray gun at the park, then getting Mom later. I don’t like any of it.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She took a deep breath. “Do you think he’ll really... follow through with his threat if we call the cops?”

  “His threat about your mother?”

  Emma nodded. “Do you think he’ll... kill her?”

  “We have to operate on the assumption that he will. Like he said himself, remember the subway.” He kissed her hair. “You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, it’s your mother.”

  Emma expelled a shaky breath. “I have to deal with it. It’s up to me to make sure she gets out of this safely. I can’t afford to fall apart now.”

  “You’ve got to be just about the strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Gage tightened his arms around her; she felt the muffled drumbeat of his heart through his softly furred chest.

  She shook her head. “I’m faking it. I’m not strong. I’m a total wuss.”

  A deep chuckle rose from his chest and reverberated through her. “There are some things you can’t fake. You may not go through life wearing a Superwoman costume, but you’re the kind of person who rises to the occasion, who rallies when the odds are their worst. Your mother is lucky to have you looking after her.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He tightened his arms around her even more and said quietly, “I’m gonna miss you, Emma.”

  She closed her eyes. “What time is your flight?”

  “Five-twenty. I almost wish...”

  “What?”

  Gage sighed and sat up. “Nothing. I’d better get dressed. I’ve got to be at the lake in Central Park in an hour and a quarter.”

  “You mean we’ve got to be at the—”

  “I mean I, sweetheart. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you—”

  “Let me?” She bolted out of bed and turned to face him, fists clenched at her sides. “You really are a patriarchal, arrogant—”

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy, Emma. From the Deep South, no less. I’m afraid it’s just not in me to let a woman traipse right into the jaws of danger when I can do it for her.”

  “You were just telling me how strong I am!”

  “You are. You’re tough and capable and resourceful, and way, way too pretty standing there buck nekkid, but I’m still not gonna let you talk me into allowin’ you to—”

  “Allowing? Just how do you intend to stop me?”

  “I reckon I’ll have to think of something.”

  “Well, put your thinking cap on... cowboy,” she said on her way to the bathroom. “I’m going to take my shower and get dressed and go to Central Park. Because this is my mother we’re talking about, and it’s my responsibility to handle this. If you want to come along for the ride, great. I’d appreciate it, in fact. But I have no intention of sitting at home while you’re off playing the hero!”

  Emma slammed the bathroom door behind her, clipped her hair up and turned the water on—hot. The sensitive flesh between her legs stung when the shower hit it, reminding her of last night’s lovemaking. Nothing could have prepared her for the pure, heart-thumping thrill of it, the frenzied bliss. And then afterward, when they’d just held each other, whispering in the dark, two damp and sated lovers, she’d felt a sense of boneless satisfaction that had awed her.

  She’d been overwhelmed, transported. Not just because it was her first time, she knew, but because it was Gage.

  And at 5:20 he’d get on a plane for Little Rock and she’d never see him again.

  Don’t think about it, she admonished herself as she got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It’s not gonna happen. He’s made that clear. So don’t torment yourself over it. She had more important things to worry about, anyway—namely, getting her mother back safely from MacGowan Byrne.

  Gage wasn’t in the bedroom when she reentered it, but she heard him puttering around in the kitchen; his clothes were gone, so she knew he’d gotten dressed.

  In the dressing room she donned a pair of Zara’s minuscule silk panties—white this time—reasoning that blue jeans with nothing un
derneath might chafe her where she didn’t particularly care to be chafed this morning. Eschewing yesterday’s T-shirt, she hunted among Zara’s drawers until she found one chock-full of T-shirts—all silk, Lycra and stretch lace. She pulled on a silk one the color of pewter and turned to the three-way mirror just as Gage walked into the dressing room.

  “I put some coffee…” He groaned. “Sweet Jesus, woman, you look like you should be illegal in at least twenty states.”

  Emma regarded her reflection as Gage came up behind her. The silvery T was pretty and glimmery and hugged her like skin.

  “Mmm...” Reaching around her, he cupped her breasts through the slick fabric, thumbing her nipples, which instantly stiffened.

  “Gage...”

  “Are you very sore this morning?” He smoothed one hand downward until it disappeared beneath her panties, and probed her cautiously.

  “A little.”

  “We overdid it last night. I was greedy, and now you’re paying the price.” Circling around to face her, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the panties and slid them down.

  “What are you doing?” She automatically lifted her feet so he could remove the fragile garment and set it aside.

  “I’m a doctor, remember?” Sitting back on his heels, he caressed her with a slow, gentle touch that she found as stimulating as it was comforting. He smiled when his fingertips became slippery.

  “Gage,” she breathed, “this isn’t part of some scheme of yours to keep me from going to the—”

  “No,” he whispered, his breath hot against her as he studied her closely. “I promise it’s not that.”

  He withdrew his hand; she felt a pang of disappointment and wished she hadn’t challenged him. But then he lightly gripped her hips, leaned forward and kissed her softly where she was so sore and yet so terribly aroused. He kissed her again and again, light, chastely sweet kisses on her most intimate flesh. It astounded her to be kissed there. Of course she about oral sex, and many times she’d imagined what it would feel like, but she’d never imagined it would be quite like this.

  Emma closed her eyes. It was like butterflies landing on her and taking off again, fluttering on hot breezes. She rested her hands on Gage’s head, threaded her fingers through his hair, lost in this strange new pleasure.