Stealing the Bad Boy

by Emma St Clair

  “Thanks for everything,” Amy said, unsure if he heard because he’d already started his car. She didn’t care if he did or did not. Brandon was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Sy leaned back against the railing, grinning. Amy glared at him, trying to keep her eyes fixed on his face and not on the beads of sweat dripping down his massive chest. She had never thought that she was particularly into muscles or built guys. But it wasn’t about his physique. It was that all those muscles belonged to Sy.

  If it hadn’t been inappropriate, she would have liked to just sit and watch the way his muscles bunched and rippled as he moved. Like a scientific study or fine art appreciation. But the kind of science or art that also made your adrenaline surge as your heart went crazy.

  “Pleased with yourself?” she managed to say. “You totally scared off my date.”

  His grin widened. “Actually, yeah. Mission accomplished. You weren’t going to go on a second date with him, anyway.”

  Amy crossed her arms. “How do you know? You saw Brandon for less than five minutes.”

  “You didn’t like him. I could tell.”

  “Maybe I would have if you hadn’t hijacked the date.”

  “Please.” He rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the railing, coming closer. “I could tell you were trying to let him down easy. It was all over your body language when you got out of the car. I saved you the trouble.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Sy LaMarque! Were you even out jogging? Or were you hiding in the bushes watching us?”

  He didn’t even try to pretend to look sorry. “Busted.”

  Amy wanted to be mad, but instead a thrill of pleasure lit her chest and she found herself laughing at his boyish grin. “You are terrible!”

  “Never claimed otherwise.”

  Amy suddenly became aware of how close they stood in the dim light from the porch. A few hours ago, they’d stood in this same spot, ending their date. The playfulness between them dissolved, shifting and deepening into an electric feeling that made Amy almost breathless.

  “How could you tell that I wasn’t interested in him?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  Sy leaned in so close that Amy’s breath caught. He didn’t smell like sweat, but some spicy, musky scent that made her want to take a deeper breath.

  “I could see it right … here.”

  Sy’s fingers touched the edge of her mouth. Heat bloomed on her skin at the contact, and time seemed to slow. He dragged one fingertip along her jaw, sending a thousand tiny jolts along her nerve endings. His brown eyes darkened to a rich, warm chocolate.

  “You weren’t smiling.”

  His voice dropped, taking on a low, rough quality that made Amy’s legs feel unsteady. Amy wanted to lean toward Sy, to erase the distance between them.

  She longed for the unknown—the feel of his full, soft lips on hers.

  Did he want that too?

  “Was I wrong, Ames? Did you like Brandon?”

  Amy shook her head, never taking her eyes off his.

  “Did you want him to kiss you?”

  “No,” she murmured.

  “No?”

  “No.” Amy cleared her throat. “I don’t like him. I didn’t want to kiss him. Not even tempted.”

  But she was tempted by the man only inches away from her right now. Was he moving closer, or was that wishful thinking? One side of his mouth lifted in a smile, and Amy’s gaze fell to his lips.

  “Good,” Sy said, the deep, rich tones of his voice seemed to resonate in her chest.

  Something passed between them, fiery and alive, making her heart beat wildly in her chest.

  Feeling a surge of boldness, Amy met his eyes again before she whispered, “Why is that good?”

  “Because a kiss should be something worth remembering. Reliving. Again and again and again.” He leaned even closer with each word.

  This is not happening.

  A sort of haze settled over Amy, making her limbs feel languid and her tongue loose.

  “I guess I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never been kissed.”

  Normally, this confession would have embarrassed her. But in this moment, she felt like it was a taunt, a tease. Amy was opening a door, giving Sy room to walk through.

  He sucked in a breath, then bit down on his bottom lip, revealing those straight, white teeth. His eyes seemed to smolder as they drank in her face. They were mere inches apart now. His big hand lifted to the side of her face, cupping her cheek. She leaned into his rough palm.

  “Your first kiss should definitely be special,” Sy said. “With someone you care about. Someone you trust.”

  Amy hummed, not missing the way Sy’s gaze zeroed in on her lips. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and for a moment, something dark flashed across his face. “Maybe. But I’m not sure he deserves you.”

  Amy circled her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand firm against her face. “You don’t get to decide who is worthy of me. That’s my choice.”

  And I choose you.

  Amy’s lips parted, but before she could say any more, Sy closed the distance between them. Their mouths met, and before the kiss could go further, before either of them moved, Amy swore that lights flashed behind her eyelids. Fireworks or shooting stars or northern lights. And her world shifted, like it had always been off its axis and only now came to rest where it should be.

  Then, Sy’s mouth began to move.

  Amy had no point of reference, nothing to draw from, but she shoved aside all thought, letting Sy lead. His hand tilted her face to the side as his lips began to move against hers. A gentle, sweet press of his mouth that deepened into something more. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw scraped her face in the most delicious way, a contrast to the softness of his lips.

  It was more than Amy ever could have thought a kiss could be.

  Because it’s not just a kiss. It’s a kiss with Sy.

  Amy lost time. Seconds, minutes, hours … she did not know how long the kisses went on. All she knew was the warm comfort of Sy’s mouth, drugging her into a hazy state of bliss.

  She didn’t know how it was possible, but Sy spoke to her through the kiss. He claimed her, making promises and vows and declarations, erasing any doubts she’d had about his feelings for her.

  And when he finally pulled away, their breaths coming fast and shallow between them, Amy felt bereft. Like some part of her had been ripped from her soul.

  She grabbed Sy’s shoulders, both to keep him there and to steady her trembling legs. But she’d forgotten that he was shirtless, and the feel of his skin under her hands made her tremble even more. His forehead rested on hers and he slid his hands around her waist, holding her firm.

  Amy didn’t know why she spoke, or how her brain could even function to find words. “I thought you said I shouldn’t kiss after the first date.”

  Sy’s chuckle made her heart turn somersaults. “When the right person comes along, you break all the rules.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sy

  Sleep didn’t come easily. Not when every time Sy rolled over in the big bed upstairs, he thought about the woman who was somewhere below.

  Is she having a hard time sleeping too? Maybe I should go down and check on her…

  Not a good idea. Sy groaned and threw a hand over his face. This was going to be pure torture, staying alone in this house with her. Did he possess the self-control he needed?

  Though he’d dated many women, he had never had this kind of struggle. Never felt like all control had slipped away, leaving him in a free fall. Even with his tendency toward jumping into things, relationships didn’t fall under that category. He had never been lost like this, feeling totally powerless and unsettled, in the best way possible.

  Sy picked up his phone from the bedside table. It was after one in the morning. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow. But there was no way sleep was coming. His thoughts were pinging all over
the place, and he could still smell Amy on his skin, even after his shower. He could feel the echo of her lips on his.

  He shot a text to Elton, the only person he knew who might be up at this hour.

  Sy: Yo. You up?

  Elton: I am now.

  Sy: Oops. Sorry. Can you talk?

  The phone buzzed in his hand as Elton called him. His voice sounded scratchy, like Sy had woken him up.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I thought you might be awake.”

  “Everything okay?” Elton asked. Sy swore he could hear the smile in his friend’s voice.

  Sy sat up in bed, fluffing the pillows behind him. “Things are great. Did you plan this out when you sent me here?”

  “Plan what?”

  “You know what. Amy.”

  “What?” Elton’s tone held so much mock innocence that Sy rolled his eyes. “Did something happen with Amy? I thought you were here to win back Delia.”

  Sy groaned. “That feels like a lifetime ago, even though I know it was just a few days. No. Definitely not trying to win Delia back. I think I finally get what you were saying about her.”

  Elton laughed. “My boy saw the light! Hallelujah!”

  “Ha ha. Anyway. I took Amy on a date today. Then I scared off her other date—”

  “She had another date? Sweet, innocent Amy?”

  “It’s a long story. And involves Delia and a dating app.”

  Elton groaned. “Say no more. I can fill in those blanks.”

  “Anyway. I kissed her. And now I can’t sleep because she’s here, sleeping, or maybe not sleeping, and I can’t stop thinking about her. What am I supposed to do, El? I don’t know how to do a relationship or how to do distance or any of that stuff.”

  “Wow! You’re already thinking long-term about this? That was fast.”

  “Fast, but not really. I mean, things were different back in high school, and we didn’t keep in touch, but Amy isn’t some random girl I just met and fell for. It’s like I already know her, like we already have this foundation, you know?”

  “Makes sense. But I’m the last person to ask about serious relationship advice.”

  Sy snorted. Elton dated more than Sy did. He’d always been the kind of guy that girls flocked to, and he ate it up.

  “Right. But you know Ames. And you know me. What should I do next? I don’t want to scare her, and I don’t want to mess this up. It’s uncharted territory.”

  “You mentioned the charity prom thing. Why don’t you ask her to that?”

  The charity prom had been the furthest thing from Sy’s mind. It felt strangely like he’d been in Katy for weeks, not just days. So much had changed.

  “Perfect. Do you think I need to do a whole big thing?”

  “No. We aren’t kids anymore. Plus, you already did the big promposal thing with Amy back in the day. Just ask her. Save the grand gestures for a real proposal.”

  A real proposal. Just days ago, those words in relation to himself might have made Sy laugh or his palms start to sweat, now, it only made him grin. A shocking change, but one he didn’t hate. Not at all. I mean, it was too soon. Way too soon. But the idea of marrying Amy felt as right as it did when Sy kissed her.

  Though he had wished even that morning that he hadn’t thrown away so many kisses on women who didn’t matter, he was almost thankful for those now. Because in contrast, he knew without a doubt how different what he had with Amy was. Never had he felt a kiss reach into his soul, something that sounded cheesy but felt completely real.

  Their kiss had been so different, so special, so moving, that it felt like a first kiss to him. And though Amy had no prior experience, he never would have guessed. Kissing her felt so familiar, so right. Perfect. It had been the perfect kiss.

  “Are you still with me, Sy?”

  “Yep. Sorry. Okay, so a simple ask to prom. Got it. I want to do something big though. Like, a Christmas present or something.” Sy dragged a hand through his hair, thinking. The idea came to him. “I know—there are some things Ames mentioned around here that need fixing. Do you think I can hire Easton and maybe you too for some manual labor around the bed-and-breakfast? She has all the supplies for building a pergola out back.”

  “I can ask Easton. He probably won’t want you to pay him.”

  Sy scoffed. “Then I’ll pay you. Because I know you won’t turn me down. You can slip him the money somehow.”

  “I don’t need the money either, but I’ll take it. The only big thing we have going on this week is this charity thing for Pax on Saturday. I’m sure Easton and I could help any other day.”

  “Great. I’d like to surprise her, so I’ll figure out her schedule and maybe we can at least get started while she’s out.”

  “Perfect.” Elton yawned loudly into the phone. “One more thing—you’re invited over on Christmas Day. If you aren’t with your new girlfriend.”

  Sy couldn’t help grinning. “I’ll let you know. Who’s coming?”

  “It’ll be me and E, plus Pax, Cilla, and Adele. You remember Adele? Cilla’s BFF. Fiery redhead?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Not that it matters, but I’ve got dibs. Anyway, the invitation’s open, to you and Amy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some sweet dreams are calling.”

  Long after they hung up the phone, Sy sat up in bed, allowing his thoughts to consider the next few days with Amy and then what he hoped might be long and wonderful years to come.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amy

  Having nightmares after the best moment of her life didn’t quite seem fair. But that’s one thing Amy knew for sure about life: it didn’t always seem fair. When the phone buzzing started to wake her, she was sweating, legs tangled in the sheets. Someone was chasing her. Or some … thing.

  Getting closer. And closer.

  She tried to look back. But her feet slipped, and she started to fall—

  Her phone buzzed again, startling her into full consciousness, gasping and panting like she really had been running.

  She slapped at the phone trying to turn off the alarm. But it wasn’t an alarm. It was a number she didn’t know. Trying to send it to voicemail, she accidentally answered. It was too early, and she had slept too little for operating any kind of technology. Even a phone. Because that was the aftereffect of kissing Sy LaMarque.

  The unfamiliar male voice on the phone dragged her away from indulging in another replay of the night before. After staying up half the night thinking about that body-disabling, mind-scrambling, life-altering kiss, Amy was shocked that she still hadn’t gotten enough of thinking about it.

  But no. She could happily think about it some more. And maybe get a part two later today.

  “Amy? Amy?”

  She managed to put the phone to her ear. “Hello? This is Amy.”

  “Amy! I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Her heart thudded as her brain zoomed into clarity when she recognized the voice. She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the number on the screen. “Dr. Harmon? This isn’t your office number.”

  “I’m calling from my cell. I heard from Dr. Morgan that you weren’t returning the hospital’s calls. He and I are colleagues, so he asked if I’d call in a favor.” His voice had that scolding tone, like she’d been caught sneaking cookies out of the jar.

  It brought back so many memories. And definitely not the kind she wanted to replay. Or relive.

  While Dr. Harmon was one of Amy’s favorite people, the gray-haired oncologist wasn’t exactly someone Amy wanted to talk to. He’d been amazing, helping her through the years of treatment. She honestly felt like a different doctor might have had a different outcome.

  Still, hearing his voice shoved her right back into being the sick kid, the ghost girl. His voice carried reminders of the hospital smell, the roil of nausea following treatment, and the bone-aching exhaustion that plagued her teen years.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her that Dr. Morgan, whose office had now
left a total of five voicemails this week, was a colleague or friend. But the fact that he reached out to Dr. Harmon only confirmed what Amy had known somewhere deep in her heart: the news was not good.

  Amy threw her hand over her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just Christmas and you know, family. I’ve been busy.”

  He sighed, and his voice gentled. “I understand, Amy. But you can’t avoid this. I understand why you’d want to. Please, come in this morning. I’ll be there too. We can talk to Dr. Morgan together.”

  The tears were already coming. When you spend enough time in hospitals with doctors, you know the drill. They won’t tell you bad news over the phone. Sometimes they didn’t tell you any important information over the phone, but if it was bad, you absolutely had to come into the office. If Dr. Morgan had called Dr. Harmon, asking her to come today, it was maybe worse than she’d thought.

  Shouldn’t you get news that you have cancer through a text or one of those automated, robotic voicemails? That seems like such a better option. That way you didn’t have to try and hold yourself together in front of a doctor who got paid to deliver this kind of news.

  “I’ve got plans today.”

  Her plans consisted of breaking her dates with the two guys she was supposed to see today and tomorrow, then spending as much time as she could with the pro football player sleeping somewhere above her head. Amy thought of Sy, her heart constricting in her chest. She could imagine it shriveling up into the size of a raisin, right underneath her cancerous breasts.

  “Can you just tell me over the phone? It would be so much faster.”

  She managed to say the words around the growing lump in her throat, but her voice sounded wobbly even to her own ears.

  “You know we can’t. It’s enough that I’m calling you from my cell phone. You need to come in. I know you don’t want to. I know this timing isn’t ideal. Just come in. We’ll deal with this together, okay? I’m still with you. Every step of the way.”

  Every step.

  There were going to be steps.