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Every good girl loved a bad boy. It was a fact of life, a quirk of nature. Opposites attract, and the badder the boy, the more attractive he was to that good girl who couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
Kita Claire Engalls had to admit that despite the fact that he was obviously a well-respected security specialist, Creed Raines was a definite bad boy. A wolf posing as a lamb, and that so wasn’t working for him.
Six-four, cloudy gray eyes, thick black hair, and an oh-my-God body packed with muscle and covered with rich, darkly tanned flesh. At least, the flesh Kita had seen was rich and darkly tanned. She liked to fantasize the rest of it was too.
Sensuality curved his lips, edged at his thickly lashed eyes, and sometimes, just sometimes, lit the dark gray irises of his eyes with a wicked hunger. A hunger she glimpsed when she had turned fast enough to catch it in that instant before it was gone.
Brushing back a wisp of dark blonde hair as it fell over her shoulder, Kita couldn’t help but wonder at the attraction.
He’d been with them far longer than any other security specialist. A few weeks past a year. She remembered marking the day, almost as though it were some inane anniversary. And it was all his fault. It was the bad boy corrupting the good girl she was.
She had been a good girl all her life, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize that glint in a man’s eye. Just because she was a good girl didn’t mean she was stupid, and it sure as hell didn’t mean she wasn’t well aware of what the sensations spiking through her body meant.
When her nipples hardened and throbbed and her clit swelled, aching for touch, she didn’t just know what it meant, but sometimes she was even smart enough to know how to take care of it. When her flesh felt too sensitive and she was so aware of the need for pressure against her lips that she was forced to press her teeth against the lower curve, she knew it was a hunger for his kiss.
That didn’t mean he knew how to kiss. She had assumed any number of men knew how to kiss and had been sorely disappointed. No doubt he would disappoint her as well.
She gave a small sigh as she pushed the sunglasses down her nose and watched as he stood at the other end of the pool. His hands clasped in front of him, the white shirt he wore bright beneath the brilliance of the afternoon sun.
She noticed the other two security specialists, as they called themselves—they were nothing more than hired guns, really—appeared to be sweltering beneath the bright, late-spring sun.
Creed Raines was anything but sweltering.
From where she lay against the lounge chair, she couldn’t detect even a hint of sweat on his brow.
She stared into the dark lenses of his glasses, wondering if he was even awake. He hadn’t changed position in an hour. He had to be asleep.
Could a man actually sleep standing on his feet?
Tilting her head, she watched him carefully.
She had heard of it happening during times of war.
Smiling, she mimicked a kiss toward him, then gave her lips a little flick with her tongue. And there wasn’t so much as a smile or a change of expression.
So much for amusing herself by teasing him. It had become her favorite pastime over the past few years. Well, not teasing her bodyguards, but definitely torturing them in one way or another.
“Kita, isn’t it a little cool yet for sunbathing?”
Well, there went her fun for the day.
Sitting up, she readjusted the chair before pulling on the thin wrap at her side and then glancing up at her father.
“You didn’t bring the iced tea, Daddy,” she chided him with a smile as she curled her legs close to her body and allowed him to sit at the bottom of the chair.
For a man nearing sixty, he was still in reasonably good shape. His hair was still thick, though it was more gray than brown now. Laugh lines were slowly being replaced by worry lines, and his once laughing brown eyes were somber and tired.
The death of her mother last year had destroyed them both, but her father wasn’t recovering.
“You should come in out of the sun.” He cleared his throat uneasily. “It’s still rather cool. You could become ill.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy,” she told him gently. “I don’t get sick at the drop of a hat.”
For a while she had, when she was younger. She was no stranger to pneumonia and no stranger to hospitals. Thankfully, she had grown out of it. But her father hadn’t grown out of his habit of worrying about her.
“You’re getting restless.” His gaze sharpened on her. “Creed informed me he caught you trying to slip out of the estate last night.”
She turned and stared back at the bodyguard. He had promised not to tell. The damned liar.
