[EB03] Bad Girls Do

by Rosalie Lario

  Yet by the time she turned around, there was Sam, standing directly in front of her. He wore a black sweater and dark blue jeans, and the five o’clock beard she found so sexy was in its normal place.

  The familiar hunger she’d come to recognize so well over their time together crept into his eyes. He gave her a cheeky grin. “Hi.”

  Fighting a sudden burst of shyness, she said, “Hi.”

  When his eyes swept down her body, then back up, the awkwardness of the situation hit her. What the hell were she and Sam doing? They couldn’t even pretend more than a casual acquaintance for fear they’d alert their family members to their arrangement.

  Just then she caught sight of her father over Sam’s shoulder. He strode in a direct arc toward the mayor. No surprise. Their conversation replayed itself in her mind, and another tide of anger overcame her.

  Sam must have noticed, because he took a step closer and murmured, “What’s wrong?”

  Forcing her gaze off her father, she said, “Nothing.”

  He shook his head, and his expression said he wasn’t going to back off. “Not buying it. That look you had meant something.”

  “My father and I rode over together,” she confessed.

  He seemed to immediately get what was wrong. A few days ago he’d asked about her father and she’d told him about their strange relationship. How her parents had divorced when she was five, and her mother had returned with her to France. How he’d only visited her a couple times a year, and had always seemed distant. Expected her to heed his every command.

  And she had. Look at how long she’d dated Andrew, who she clearly had no physical connection with, just because her father had wanted her to. She would have married him if he’d asked because that was what her father had wanted. It seemed crazy now.

  “So he was being his usual charming self, then?” Sam said dryly.

  “Exactly.”

  Sam scowled. “Forget about him. Why don’t you come look at the artwork with me?”

  His invitation caught her off guard. “What about…should we really go around together?”

  Sam’s lips tightened and he shook his head, then glanced around the room. “Everyone seems preoccupied. Andrew’s talking with your father, and I doubt they’ll be done anytime soon.”

  A quick glance confirmed he was right. The desire to be with Sam warred with her instinctive urge to ensure that no one saw them together. In the end, the former won out. “Okay. We can take a quick walk around.”

  He shot her a quick grin, then snagged some champagne from a server making the rounds with a loaded tray of flutes before leading her through the crowded room. As always, she took note of how large the interior of the gallery was. Blond wood flooring served to accent the white walls with artwork hung upon them. Sam hung a right at one of the interior walls that gave a mazelike quality to the gallery, and they arrived in a less crowded area.

  “I thought we were going to look at your art,” she commented.

  Sam handed her one of the flutes. “I’ve already seen it.”

  She rolled her eyes at his quip, but when a woman whose face she vaguely recalled strode up to congratulate Sam on another showing, she quickly turned her attention to the pastel paintings in front of her.

  The woman murmured something Diane couldn’t hear, but from her tone of voice, she was definitely flirting. Caught between the jealous urge to eavesdrop and the desire to stalk away, she settled for squirming in discomfort. But when she heard the woman issue an invitation to her place later that evening, it was all she could do not to turn and run. Or scratch the woman’s eyes out.

  Thankfully, Sam murmured a quick, polite refusal, and the woman didn’t stay too long after that. If she noticed Diane standing next to Sam and thought it strange, at least she didn’t mention it before she left.

  “Sorry,” Sam said, turning back to her with a guarded look.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she replied coolly.

  Knowing him, he’d probably slept with half the women in this place.

  Including me.

  Before she could further ponder that disturbing thought, he distracted her by setting his hand on the small of her back.

  “I’m not hooking up with anyone else right now,” he said casually, without taking his eyes off the painting they stood in front of. “Just so you know.”

  His unexpected words made her suck in her breath.

  Had she been projecting an aura of worry? As embarrassing as the thought was, she couldn’t bring herself to be upset about it. Not when his words had lifted an invisible weight off her chest.

  “Me either,” she said just as lightly, although that was likely no surprise to him.

  They stood there for a few more moments before moving on to another section.

  By the time they made their rounds back to Sam’s corner of the gallery, Diane had already finished her glass of champagne, and Sam had fetched her another. When she spotted Andrew headed in their direction, she didn’t have to wait for Sam to make note of it. Instead, without a word, she made a sharp turn and headed in the other direction.

  She lifted her shaky hand and downed the rest of the second glass. But when she turned toward the server carrying the tray of empty glasses, she almost collided with none other than Hailey Thompson. Andrew’s new fiancé.

  “Oh.” Hailey stopped short, her eyes going round. Her fingers clutched at the flouncy skirt of her short red dress. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Diane flushed and shifted in her spot. “It was my fault.”

  “Um.” Hailey set her empty glass onto the server’s tray at the same time as Diane, then visibly steeled herself before turning back and holding out her hand. “We’ve never been properly introduced. My name is—”

  “Hailey.” Diane gave her a smile and shook her hand. “I’m Diane. Nice to formally meet you.”

  Hailey looked unsure about that, and who could blame her? Technically, Hailey had stolen Andrew out from under her, so Diane could understand why she might think she held hard feelings. Honestly, until now she hadn’t known if she did. But looking at Hailey, she realized the woman had done her a favor. What if, god forbid, Andrew hadn’t met Hailey? Would he have ended up asking her to marry him, just because it seemed the prudent thing to do?

  The thought that Diane might have ended up as Sam’s sister-in-law had circumstances been different, made her want to shudder.

  Thank god for Hailey.

  Dropping her hand, Diane gave Hailey a warm smile. “I’d like to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials.”

  Now Hailey looked completely bemused. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Diane said firmly. “I’ve honestly never seen Andrew happier. You’re good for him.”

  Hailey gave a wide-eyed blink. “Wow. Um, thank you.”

  Diane gave her a grin. “You’re welcome.”

  When Hailey’s gaze strayed over Diane’s shoulder, Diane followed her line of sight. Andrew stood beside a painting, wearing an expression that would have looked stoic on any other man. She knew enough, though, to sense his discomfort at seeing the two of them together. It almost made her smile.

  Turning back to Hailey, she said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to the event.”

  Hailey nodded, looking just as baffled as Andrew probably was. “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” With one last friendly smile, Diane strode past Hailey. She kept going until she found a wandering server. Snagging her third glass of champagne from his tray, she made her way toward the small cluster of counter height pub tables that had been brought in for the event and set along one of the walls. With a polite nod to the older couple who sat on the other side of the table, she slid into one of the tall, empty chairs across from them and leaned her shoulder against the wall.

  Funny how, before the New Year, she’d never had more than a glass or two in one night. She might not be pining over Andrew Everly, but in one way or another, he sure did have the ability to drive her to drink.
>
  Snorting, she lifted her glass to her mouth. When the fizz tickled her nose and made her giggle, she realized the effects of those first two glasses of champagne were starting to make themselves known.

  Ah, who the heck cared? Her father probably wouldn’t even notice her if she got drunk and passed out face first on this table, and Sam had too much to worry about to add entertaining her to his list.

  Just when she thought of him, he appeared.

  Sam kept his gaze on the couple across from her as he slid into the empty seat beside her, a glass of champagne in his hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester. Pleasure to see you again.”

  Mrs. Sylvester gave him a pleasant smile. “Thank you, Sam. Same to you.”

  Effectively ignoring her, he made polite conversation with the couple for a few minutes. Enough for her to gather they were the parents of one of the other artists whose work was being featured here tonight.

  When the couple bade him goodnight and left the table, he stayed in his seat. Without looking at her, he murmured, “Bored yet?”

  “Not bored,” she answered truthfully. Just a little overwhelmed. The thought that Andrew and Hailey, and probably a slew of other people were wondering what she was even doing here couldn’t help but cross her mind.

  Absently spinning her glass by the stem, she asked, “Don’t you have a lot to do? People to talk to?”

  He gave a careless shrug. “I made the rounds.”

  Well, if he wasn’t going to worry about it, or the fact that they might be seen sitting together, then she wouldn’t either. There were three other artists featuring their work at this exhibition and the place was crowded. Maybe no one would even notice them.

  Apparently Sam came to the same conclusion because his hand slid beneath the high tabletop and landed on her thigh.

  Her back went stiff as a board as she fought the impulse to jump. “What are you doing?”

  “No one can see,” he whispered.

  Maybe not, but they were right out in the open.

  “Sam,” she protested.

  “Diane,” he mimicked. Then, with a chuckle, he said, “Come on. Live a little.”

  Those were the magic words. They made her remember the reason she and Sam had started hooking up to begin with. So she could take charge of her own life, rather than be an empty shell succumbing to its whims.

  Her pulse raced with excitement and fear as she purposely relaxed her limbs. She lifted her glass to her lips, drinking from it casually as if his hand weren’t creeping beneath the hem of her dress.

  “Did I tell you how much I like your outfit,” he murmured.

  Her lips curved upward and she teased, “No, but I thought you might.”

  When she opened her legs a fraction, he gave an audible intake of breath. Then his hand was there, sliding in-between her thighs. His fingers probing the flesh that was even now slick with her mounting desire. The way her body responded to him was unbelievable. Just one word, one soft caress, and she was ready for him.

  “You naughty girl, you did as I asked.” His shaky voice was at odds with the poised expression on his face. “No underwear.”

  “No,” she breathed, clenching her fingers around her glass. She tore her gaze from him, trying her best to make it look like they were simply sharing the same space instead of conversing with one another. Like two of his long fingers weren’t slowly shoving their way into her.

  He didn’t stop until his fingers were lodged deep inside her. When she gave the tiniest of squirms, he sucked in a heavy breath and snuck a peek at her. “You know what I think? I think you secretly love this.”

  His finger crooked and she dug her nails into the edge of the tabletop, then squeaked, “Love what?”

  He bent in to murmur into her ear, “Love having my fingers in your pussy, right out here in the open.”

  Her chest rose and fell with a loud breath. She couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her veins, setting her nerve endings afire. Even though the table hid his hand from view, the thought that they might be found out sent a shiver of fear through her, and in turn, only made her more aroused. Maybe she was crazy, but she loved it.

  Moving just the tiniest bit against his hand, she whispered, “Make me come.”

  A pained sound escaped him, like a cross between a groan and a gasp. He shifted in his seat, and then his fingers slid out before pumping back in. She held back a whimper as he did it again and again, swiftly stroking her body to the very edge. Then his thumb grazed her clit, plucking at the sensitive bud while his fingers continued to plunge in and out of her.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, carelessly dropping her champagne glass onto the table and grasping the edge with both hands. Surely, anyone who looked their way would see how red her face was, how shallow her breathing, and suspect something. But that worry was nothing more than a niggling fear, easily overlooked as his fingers stroked her to a breath-stealing climax.

  Her nails dug into the table as she fought not to make a sound. It was hard, so much harder than she would’ve thought, and she couldn’t fight the wiggle of her hips or the way her eyes fluttered shut as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

  Finally, when the ringing in her ears had faded to a dull roar, she opened her eyes and snuck a look at Sam.

  His face was hard, his expression tight. Anyone who saw his face would realize he wasn’t just casually sitting beside her. He looked like a man ready for action, like one touch was all it would take for him to revert to primitive caveman and toss her over his shoulder. And oh, how she loved it.

  Diane glanced around, uttering a short prayer of thanks that no one seemed to be looking their way.

  Sam slid his fingers from her body. He steeled himself with a breath, then lifted his glass to his lips and knocked back the contents. Only then did he spear her with a look that was half frustration, half admiration.

  “You might be wilder than I thought, Diane Milstrom.”

  She couldn’t deny the excitement that wound through her at his words. Even though, in all honesty, if she were wild, it was totally because of him.

  “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

  “Or the best,” he murmured, “depending on one’s point of view.”

  When she laughed, his hand grasped hers beneath the table. He guided it to the crotch of his jeans, setting her palm on the thick, hard heat that throbbed against the thick denim.

  Her breath caught at the evidence of how very turned on Sam was right now. Even though he’d just stroked her to climax, she wanted him again. She would’ve once thought that impossible, but after just a short time with Sam, she was beginning to realize there were no impossibilities.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a mock frown. “That must be painful.”

  He gave her a wry glance. “Super painful, you little tease.”

  “We only have a few more hours before the event is over,” she supplied helpfully.

  With a sardonic laugh, he muttered, “I can’t wait that long.”

  Funny how those simple words could make her whole body vibrate with renewed desire.

  Sam glanced around the room, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “See that hallway down there?”

  He pointed toward a corridor that led further back in the gallery. There was no art displayed there, so it was devoid of the patrons that filled up the remainder of the gallery.

  “I see it.”

  “Go down it and hang a right. The art director’s office is right there.”

  Blinking, she whispered, “Are you serious?”

  He gave a harsh scoff. “Did you feel how hard my dick is?”

  Okay…so serious, then.

  “I won’t get in trouble for going down there? The owner won’t be there?”

  Sam shook his head. “Patrick never goes back there during a show.”

  She bit her lip, debating for a moment. But who was she kidding? Sam could talk her into anything.

  When she started to
rise, his hand reached out and briefly caught hers. “Wait inside for me. I’ll follow in five or so minutes.”

  With a shaky nod, she rose and headed on her unsteady feet toward the corridor. She passed a number of acquaintances on her way and spotted her father talking in the corner. Each familiar face was a reminder of the dangerous game she and Sam were playing. That incident at his office had been risky enough. Eventually, people would start to notice them disappearing at the same time. Would start to question. And then they would have to face the fact that what had started out as a naughty little game was going to have real world consequences.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now. Not when every step she took brought her closer to the moment when she and Sam would be together again. Not when her body still burned with desire for him.

  Besides, bad girls didn’t care about things like consequences, did they?

  So she wouldn’t either. At least not for now.

  There was always tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There were too many damn people in this room. That was all Sam could think of as he pushed his way through the crowd. Every third face was someone he knew. Someone who wanted to stop him and talk about his art, or the Everly Publications expansion, or some other thing he didn’t give a shit about right now.

  To be fair, they were here to support him, and he did appreciate that. Just not at the moment. Not when he was still sporting a semi-erection that, despite the crowd, didn’t seem to want to go away.

  He needed to be inside Diane. Needed it with an intensity he didn’t care to examine.

  What seemed like an eternity and countless conversations later, he finally made his way through the crowd and snuck down the corridor. Last he’d spotted Patrick, the owner was deep in conversation with some of the gallery’s greatest supporters. He wasn’t worried about him making his way back to his office anytime soon. Not until the event was over with.

  Which meant there would be nothing to come between him and Diane.