Flynn fell to his knees. Then he gathered her against his chest and hugged her. Breathed her scent in. Felt her heartbeat against his. Felt how right they were together. “God, Sierra, I’m sorry for putting you through that, too.”
“We won’t talk about it anymore. We both screwed up, and we won’t do it again. Let’s make it part of those bad pasts we’re closing the door on, okay?”
“Okay.” And because he wasn’t an idiot, Flynn kissed her.
He fell back, pulling Sierra to lie on top of him, and kissed her with fast pecks across her cheek, and long, wet, openmouthed kisses that seared the air around them. Unable to contain his relief and happiness, Flynn tightened his hold at her waist and rolled them across the lawn, kissing and laughing the whole way.
“We both spent a lot of months frozen in place by our old lives. So I wanted to give you something to remind you how good our new lives are.” She handed over the thick paper.
It was a drawing of the two of them, from behind. Sitting on the sand at the Coquille River Lighthouse. Sierra’s drawing was so good, it was easy to see the intimacy in the tilt of her head against his, the clasped hands visible between their bodies.
“This is just a sketch. I didn’t have time to do more, because I didn’t want to wait any longer to see you. But I want to do it in oils, with the sunset and the water and your thick black hair I love to touch and—”
Flynn cut her off. “Stop right there. Or I’ll need to take you, right here, in full view of that kitchen window I know damn well Rafe and Mollie and Karen are staring at us through.”
Giggling, Sierra peeked over her shoulder. Then stuck out her tongue and wiggled her fingers from her ears at the window. “It’d serve them right.”
“Look, I’m happy as hell that you’re back. And I think you’ve got a solid plan in us not talking this thing ’round in circles. Aside from me saying I’m sorry and I was wrong and I’ll do anything to make up for hurting you.”
“Duly noted. I may cash that in for a foot rub after our shift tonight.”
“But we have to finish the conversation.” Flynn wanted to get it over with so that he’d never have to feel uncertain about their love ever again. “I love you. You don’t need me. You’re twenty times stronger than me. You had to start a new life from scratch with no help, no funds, no plan—and you thrived. I did it with the entire government backing me, and acted like an asshole for six months. You amaze me.”
Sierra stroked her fingers through the hair right above his ear. “Your strength kept you going in, every day for years, to college classes that didn’t interest you, to a job you didn’t want. You did all of that to give Kellan a good life. That’s a strength that humbles me, because it was all on behalf of someone else. No matter how bad we might have been in the past, we are definitely good for each other.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen at the trial. I don’t know what sort of a future, if any, I’ll have after October.”
She blew a wet raspberry from between those lips Flynn couldn’t wait to take again. “Now that I’ve met your marshal, I have no doubt that she’ll keep you safe. Her biceps are almost as impressive as yours.”
No wonder he loved this woman. She brought sunshine to every aspect of life. “I’d love nothing more than to march you down to the jewelers and buy you a ring. But that wouldn’t be fair to you. Because the truth is that I can’t promise you anything.”
The indulgent smile said Sierra thought he’d missed something as obvious as the ocean being blue. “Sure you can. Promise that you love me. That’s all I need.”
“I do. I will. Forever.”
“Then I’m good. Because love is the best thing of all. And being loved by you, Flynn, is as good as it gets.”
He’d never been good before. The tattoo on his hip proved it.
But he’d damn well work every day of his life to be good for Sierra.
A Letter from the Editor
Dear Reader,
I hope you liked the latest romance from Avon Impulse! If you’re looking for another steamy, fun, emotional read, be sure to check out one of our upcoming titles.
If you like a bit of suspense in your contemporary romance or just love a good Channing Tatum movie, then you do not want to miss STRIPPED by Tara Wyatt! The first book in her new Blue HEAT series is a delicious mash up of 21 Jump Street and Magic Mike, as an elite undercover detective must infiltrate a drug ring operating out of a male strip show. What makes this novel extra steamy? His one-night-stand-turned-new-female-partner is in the audience as back up . . . and watching the whole thing! One-click away!
You can purchase this title by clicking the link above or by visiting our website, www.AvonRomance.com Thank you for loving romance as much as we do . . . enjoy!
Sincerely,
Nicole Fischer
Editorial Director
Avon Impulse
Acknowledgments
Thank you, first and foremost, to all the readers who fell in love with the Maguire brothers in Bad For Her! Massive thanks to my editor, Nicole Fischer, for patiently pointing out where I have to add things that I skipped just because they were hard. Thanks to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for always having my back.
One of my readers, Mary Rogers, very kindly provided the name for the villain in this book—’Rick’. Eliza Knight and Misty Waters never stopped cheerleading me through the rough spots. Mary Vaughan provided me with write-ins that fueled my competitive spirit and got thousands of words out in record time. And endless hugs to my besties—Stephanie Dray, Laura Kaye and Lea Nolan—for, well, everything.
Announcement to Got It Bad
Kellan Maguire is the only “Good Guy” in his family of mobsters and he’s pissed as hell that he had to leave law school to hide out in Witness Protection. But maybe his new life won’t be so bad, as long as their gorgeous U.S. Marshal handler sticks around . . .
Don’t miss the final fun, sexy novel in Christi’s Bad Boys Gone Good series . . .
GOT IT BAD
Coming September 2018!
Preorder it here and read on for a sneak peek . . .
An Excerpt from Got It Bad—Chapter One
Chapter One
Northwestern University Law School, Chicago
2:30 p.m., November 1
Kieran Mullaney pushed through the double glass doors of the Northwestern University Law School and sucked in a deep breath. Sure, other people might think he was nuts, what with the exhaust fumes, pollution, general downtown stink of Chicago in the air. But Kieran only smelled freedom.
No more notes on his iPad. No more trying to hide his side-eye when that douche canoe Pietro cut off every woman in the class when they tried to answer. Pietro, by the way, who’d gone by Peter for the first two years of school. Until he partied all night in Boytown with a hot Latin lover named Manuel. Suddenly his name changed, he started wearing loafers without socks, and he only bought empanadas and rice at lunch. His general douchiness had, however, always been there.
Law school didn’t suck. It was sometimes interesting. It just wasn’t fun. Or rewarding. Or, you know, even his choice. Not that he’d get pissy about that now. Nope, Kieran planned to celebrate his freedom, for the next few hours, at least, by finding someone sexy and sassy and talking her into a drink. No talk about tort law. No case law. No law, period.
Flirting. That’s what was on the docket. Kieran didn’t need his four years of undergrad and now rounding the corner into his third year of law school when it came to his mastery of romancing the fairer sex. He’d been charming women out of their tops, bottoms, and everything underneath since . . . well, since long before his brothers Ryan and Frank actually thought he’d lost his virginity.
He looked down Superior Street for a hot prospect. Pretty much any female that he didn’t recognize from law school would do. Kieran almost jolted when his gaze connected with two very blue eyes staring right at him. Very blue, long-lashed, and with a single, I’m interested raised eyeb
row.
“Oh, hey there.” And then she added an upward tilt to her mouth that sealed the deal. This girl had noticed him.
This was a million times better than trying to stay awake in Criminal Procedures class. Plus, she was unexpected. Kieran fucking loved surprises.
“Hi yourself, beautiful. Are you hanging around the law school because you need a lawyer? Or because smart men with enormous earning potential turn you on? Because, either way, I’m your man.”
Her smile flipped downward into a disapproving smirk. “Wow. Has that line ever worked? I mean, ever? There’s four huge problems with the four sentences you just smarmed at me.”
Kieran was equal parts pissed that she’d called him out on his lazy come-on . . . and intrigued that she’d called him out on his lazy come-on. “Smarmed isn’t a word.”
“Didn’t you hear? You can make anything a verb these days. The grammar police officially gave up when squeed got added to the OED.”
Surprise Girl was definitely around his age. Definitely his type, what with the sass and the smarts.
Definitely hot, with those wide, pink-glossed lips that begged to be kissed. Thick blond hair skimmed just below her shoulders. Kieran really wanted to slide his fingers through it, tug just hard enough so that her head tilted back and he could skim his lips along her throat. And he’d glimpsed one hell of a body wrapped up in a cream sweater and jeans before locking his eyes respectfully above her chin once they started talking. Oh, and those knee-high brown leather boots that were the best god-damned thing about autumn in the Midwest.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what are your official complaints with what I said?”
A super slo-mo blink indicated that she’d expected an apology, and was surprised by his challenge. Then she shoved up the sleeves of her sweater with a determined squint. Game on.
“You can’t assume I’m ‘hanging around’ the law school. I just saw you come out the door, which means you have zero knowledge of where I’m coming from or going. And I just came from a walk on the lakeside trail, so in fact I know you’re wrong.”
In Kieran’s book, feisty was more fun than overtly flirty any day. He shrugged, just to egg her on. “Okay, that’s one.”
She tossed her head. The motion sent her hair rippling in the late afternoon sunlight. Exactly the way it’d ripple if Kieran flipped her on top of him in a bed. “If I did need a lawyer, I’d go find an actual lawyer. Not some student who may or may not pass the bar exam on the fifth try.”
He held up two fingers, spread in a wide V. “Two.” Kieran barely bit back a snort. No way would he be one of those idiots who didn’t prep enough to pass on the first try.
“As for that presumed earning potential?” She patted the bulge of her fat, pumpkin-colored purse. Geez, that thing was big enough to hold a gun. Most women he knew stuck a credit card in their iPhone case and called it a day. What could she be lugging around in there?
Kieran widened his stance, tucking his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. Arguing with the pretty stranger was a hell of a lot more fun than arguing in mock trials. “It’s a well-known fact that even the dumbest lawyer can pull in the big bucks. Why do you think so many people suffer through three years law school hell?”
“What if you become a public defender?” A motorcycle missing its muffler roared by, and the sharp blast it made whipped her head around as fast as if she’d thought it was a sniper. Guess in today’s world you couldn’t be too careful. Just as fast, she whipped her attention back to Kieran. “Or you took out loans for all seven years of college and won’t actually turn a profit on your super fun eighty-hour work weeks until you’re pushing forty?”
“Three.” He conceded her point with a nod. And wiped a hand across his mouth to hide his grin.
Finally, the woman threw her arms up in the air. “Either way, why on earth would you think that you’re the man I need? You don’t know anything about me!”
“Four.” Kieran moved closer. So close that he smelled her perfume. Something fresh, like rain in a forest. Close enough that, yeah, he could see straight down her cleavage to a thank you, God amount of creamy skin surging against the lace edge of her bra. “And now I’ve got an answer for you.”
“This ought to be good.” She tilted her head up, her chin jutted forward in an ongoing challenge. “Go on.”
“Yes, apparently all of that does work—because you’re still standing here arguing with me.” Kieran let his arms swing forward just enough so the backs of his hands brushed the backs of hers. A jolt—tiny, but visibly noticeable—ran through both of them at the touch. So he did it again. “And arguing invariably leads to kissing.”
Those pretty pink lips parted. Then they closed again, and she licked them. God, the woman was killing him with this non-flirting flirting. “Is that so?”
Kieran spread his fingers to interlace, backwards, with hers. Just the tips. Just to tease both of them a little. “Well, you have two choices. We could skip right to the kissing. Or we could go for a drink first. Do something old-school like—and I’m just spitballing here—learn each other’s names.”
“Ooh. Looks like I’ve found an actual gentleman.”
Not like he’d had a choice. “Believe me when I say I’ve had chivalry literally beaten into me.”
Her hands flipped over to lace even tighter with his, and she squeezed. “Your mom hit you?”
“Never. Not once,” Kieran said emphatically. “But after she died, my big brothers raised me. At that point, we’d been wrestling and beating each other up for years. It was better to get an atomic wedgie as a reminder to hold the door open for a girl than because, oh, they think you looked at them weird when passing the ketchup.”
Her whole face softened. Thick, dark brown lashes batted in double time over those wide blue eyes. “I’m sorry to hear she died.”
Crap.
Usually Kieran remembered to keep the whole dead parents thing under wraps. Women tended to focus on it. To abandon all other topics and be the comforter, the soother. Soothing wasn’t sexy, though. If he wanted to share memories, he’d turn to Ryan and Frank. Because those memories weren’t something he casually discussed. Ever.
“It was a long time ago.” He’d learned to use the technique of deflection on this topic long before officially learning its usefulness in law school. “And wedgies aside, I couldn’t ask for better brothers. They both work like dogs so that I can go to law school and just study, instead of also humping it at a job or worrying about loans.”
Something in her eyes flickered. “They sound great.” Another flicker. A . . . shimmy of her eyes. Like thoughts were racing fast behind them. Kieran didn’t know what that was about. Did mystery woman have brothers? That she missed? Maybe off in the armed forces?
All he knew was that he wanted to find out.
“Ryan and Frank are the best guys in the world. I’d lay down my life for them, but they’d move heaven and earth to beat me to it.”
Flicker number three. “I’m impressed.”
Uh oh. Kieran lifted a hand to brush away a stray leaf the November wind had just gusted into her hair. “Before I ruin my chances and send you running into my not-nearly-as-hot-as-me brothers’ arms, how about that drink?”
“I think I’d really enjoy that.”
It occurred to Kieran that it was the middle of the afternoon. Luckily, they were in Chicago, so finding an open bar day or night wasn’t exactly a problem. “Let’s walk to Navy Pier. Hit the Tiny Tavern, soak up the view of the lake and the city?” Because he absolutely wanted to keep talking to this fun, feisty woman.
“How about we drive?” She pointed to a huge black SUV half a block down. The oversized, darkened window kind that usually alerted you to the presence of movie stars in the city. “I rolled my ankle skidding on some leaves piled at the entrance to the tunnel under Lakeshore Drive.”
“Then you shouldn’t even be standing on it.” Kieran lifted her into his arms with a fast but
smooth swoop. It did not at all suck to have his forearm squeezed between her calf and thigh. And he wouldn’t begin to let himself notice the softness of her breast pressed to his chest.
Okay, he’d notice, because he wasn’t fucking dead. And this woman snuggled tight against him was the best thing he’d held in a very long time.
Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck. “I’m Delaney Evans.”
“Kieran Mullaney.”
“I guess that makes this an official date. Now that we know each other’s names.”
“Nope. Not official yet.” Kieran tilted his head to just barely brush her lips with his. At least, that’s what he’d intended. But she tasted like coconuts and freedom. Kieran slid his tongue along the crease of her lips, and hell if they didn’t part right away. His grip tightened on her, hand splaying wide across her taut stomach.
“You hang on to me while I get the door open.”
The big door to his left opened and Kieran twisted at the noise, instinctively tucking Delaney a little bit behind him. Then he gaped when he saw his brothers inside.
“Get in, K.,” Ryan ordered.
There was someone in the driver’s seat. Delaney stepped around him—without any limp—and climbed in to sit next to Frank. Confused as all hell, Kieran followed her, dropping his backpack on the floor. She closed the door. The car merged into traffic, moved down the block and was on Lakeshore Drive before Kieran could do more than squint in confusion at Ryan and Frank as he buckled up.
“What the hell is this? Where are we going?” Then he twisted around to look, really looked at Delaney. The residual softness in her expression from their kiss was gone. She’d added a brown blazer before doing her seat belt. And now? She’d just pulled a gun out of the side pocket to her seat and tucked it into the back of her pants.
Never Been Good Page 30
