Angela Abbott lives the best life her parents’ money can buy, but a life of privilege has rules. The first rule is don’t fall for a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Sexy, hot, and dangerous, Nick Spencer is everything she should stay away from, but the more she sneaks off to be with him, the harder and faster she falls. The sex is mind-blowing, and so is the way he strips Angela of her stifling, rich-girl shell until the real her is bare before him, beneath him, atop him. She’ll do anything to keep Nick in her life as long as he remains her dirty little secret.
But Nick has a secret of his own, and when both are revealed, Angela will have to come clean about what she wants most—the trappings of her privileged lifestyle or the love of the bad boy who’s oh-so-good for her.
This title was previously published as In the Bad Boy’s Bed but has been completely revised and expanded for The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
His hooded eyes held tight on mine.
“This is the line, Angel,” he said, his throat moving hard to swallow whatever was making his voice rough. “Once we cross it, there’s no stopping. Be sure.”
I was so ready for him. Had been for two years, since the first time I saw him, strolling like a badass across campus. I met his blazing gaze unashamedly, not wanting to hide the desire pulsing through me.
“I’m standing in front of you in nothing but my panties with my hand on your dick. Does it look like I want to stop?”
He didn’t grin or laugh like I thought he would. His hand slid into my hair and cupped the back of my neck, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”
“Can’t you tell?”
“Say it. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”
I was embarrassed to tell him how much I wanted him, but I knew I had to or he wouldn’t give me what I needed. I had to show him, tell him, make him understand.
I slid my hands back up the hard muscles of his stomach, his chest, his wide shoulders, my mouth following my touches with kisses and licks. Through it all, he stood tall, tense, almost as if he were trying not to feel what I was doing to him, trying not to give in until I said the magic words.
I looked into his eyes, my hands on his head, my fingers curled in his thick hair. “I want you, Nick Spencer,” I said, not in a hesitant whisper, but in a low, bold tone that could not be mistaken. I leaned up on my toes and kissed his mouth, slow and deep, my tongue wakening his to the pleasure we would have.
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