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Authors: Nora Flite

Exposing the Bad Boy (6 page)

BOOK: Exposing the Bad Boy
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“Hey.”

I jumped, turning to find Pike eyeing me. He was shirtless, hands buried in the dresser by his bed. That long torso was elegant, rippling with ebony ink. Barbed wire designs made a path right down his hips and into his jeans. Twisted as his pose was, it displayed the indents on his lower back that begged to be stroked.

Hot blood crawled up to my temples. I'd seen parts of him, knew he was in great shape, but this... I wasn't ready for
this.

Crinkling his brow, he waited for me to meet his gaze. His smirk was taunting.

Tantalizing.

“Like something you see?” he asked.

Coughing into my fist, I forced myself to turn away. It was harder than it had any right to be. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—you know.”

“Ogle me?” His laugh raised goosebumps. “It's fine. Just don't look back, unless you
want
to see far more than this.”

It was a cruel warning.

A wicked promise.

I narrowed in on the photographs, trying to distract myself from the sound of cloth rumpling behind me. The metallic crunch of a zipper transformed my heart into mush.

The pictures told a story. In one, Pike was smiling with his dad—it
had
to be his dad—as they perched on the edge of a cliff. He was young here, no more than a teenager.

In another, they were diving through the sky together, hands locked tight as they twirled.

“Did you learn to base jump from him?” I asked.

I couldn't see Pike, but I sensed him freezing. The air shifted, and I wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Finally he said, cautiously, “No. My dad taught me to skydive.”

“Oh.” Standing up, I drummed my fingers on my thighs nervously. “So he never jumped with you?”

Something slammed; the dresser drawer? “He did. Yeah.”

I was too uneasy to stop talking. Silence was a death trap. “Think he'd do it again, maybe for Maximal? Father-son jump?”

Pike's voice came from too close to my ear. “Probably not. My old man is dead.”

Stepping back, I tried to take hold of my pulse. Pike was in hand's reach, wearing black jeans—at least they had no holes—and a dark red shirt. It was hardly 'dressed up,' but he still looked wonderful.

I licked my lower lip. “I'm really sorry to hear that.”

Shrugging, Pike glanced at the photos, then away. “Shit happens.” For a second, he was an enigma of emotion. “He'd have said no, though, if he was alive.”

“What? Why?”

Tucking his hands in his belt loops, Pike swayed for the door. “Just wasn't his style. Come on, let's not make our chariot wait any longer.”

Perhaps without meaning to, Pike had just revealed so much about himself to me. If his father, the man who'd no doubt gotten him started on this road, didn't believe in sponsorship, then...

Bingo. There's where his issue lies.

I wanted to feel satisfied. I'd just uncovered a mystery, seen a slice of Pike exposed. Instead, I just endured the heavy weight of guilt in my guts.

His beliefs shouldn't be an issue.

That thought cut me hard. Since when did
I
think beliefs weren't important?

Who am I becoming, Corbin?

Scoffing at myself, I followed Pike out the door.

****

T
he ride was... awkward, to say the least.

After a few openers that failed, I tried my usual tactic to break the tension.

“Here,” I said, grabbing the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. “Want a drink?”

His teeth glinted. “Are you trying to get me drunk already?”

I matched his smile. “Depends, is it easy to do?”

“No. But I don't mind the challenge.” Nodding at the bottle, he sat up on his seat across from me. “Pour me a glass.”

Popping the cork, I filled two flutes and handed one to him. Lowering mine, I waited for him to get the hint. “A toast to new friends.”

Chuckling, he tapped his glass on mine. “You're the most optimistic woman I've ever met, sugar.”

Sipping the bubbly liquid, I settled back on the cushion. “Because I think we'll be friends?”

“Yeah. Among other things.”

My frown was quick; a mere twitch. “Give me a chance. We haven't even gone over the details of what Maximal can provide for you.”

He hovered the glass  by his lips, watching me over the rim. “And what if I don't want anything from Maximal? What if I want what someone...
else
has to offer.”

His tone was low, a gritty burn. He wasn't talking about other companies, oh no. Pike was clearly trying to rile me up with his flirting. That cocky attitude, he wanted to keep me on my toes.

Fine. Two could play this game.

Leaning forward, I was acutely aware of the view he'd have down my dress. To his credit, he never took his eyes off of mine. “You're saying you'd sign if something else was on the table?”

“Aren't you brave,” he whispered.

No,
I thought suddenly. I remembered Corbin's words, his subtle threats, and my mood shifted towards shame.
I don't need to play this game.

But what if... what if I wanted to?

Shaking myself, I sat back and downed my entire glass of champagne. Pike arched an eyebrow at my action, saying nothing.

We rode in silence then, up until we pulled into the restaurant lot. Then, as the doors opened and Pike had his first look of where we were dining, I witnessed his shock. It was pure delight, for me. “Wow,” he said softly. “I always wanted to come here.”

The restaurant was called the World's Antenna. It was thousands of feet high, the tip of it a slowly rotating building so diners could view LA from every angle. It was gorgeous.

It was very expensive.

Slipping some money to the driver, I offered my hand to Pike. It was an intentional action, but I regretted it instantly. It was like waving a snack at a hungry animal.

He wove his arm through mine, daring me to pull away with a single, confident glance. “Shall we?” he asked.

“That's my line.” On wooden legs, I headed towards the entrance. Next to me, Pike was a tower of muscle and power. I think he knew it, too. There was a serenity to him that came with feeling entirely comfortable with himself.

It made sense, really. Tenacity was his essence.

Inside the doors, the front desk opened up. I used the chance to slide away from Pike. He was making my mind mushy, my insides too electric. Hoisting my purse, I smiled at the woman. “Hi there, reservation for two, under Cutter.”

She beamed, waving us towards the shiny gold elevator. “Yes, of course! Please, this way.”

I ducked inside, noting how the world kept trying to box me into smaller and smaller spaces with Pike Moss. He stood beside me, our elbows close to touching. The tiny gap was magnetic.

“Have a wonderful evening,” the woman said to us as the doors closed.

And then we were alone, and the very air around me was vibrating.

In that glimmering room that shot us towards the sky, I felt my heart falling forever to my knees. Past my feet, through the floor. I couldn't even
look
at the man beside me. I needed to be doused with ice water to remove this hungry fog.

When this is over with,
I promised myself,
I am going to go out on the town and find some random guy to take this edge off. God, this is ridiculous.

“You been here before?”

Blinking, I peeked up through my bangs at Pike. He was squinting down his nose at me, his blue eyes brassy from the metallic elevator.

I crossed my ankles and said, “Yeah. It's a favorite.”

“For winning over clients?”

He said it with a hint of distaste. This time, I let my scowl show. “Yes. For winning over clients. Does that bother you?”

His laugh was disarming. “Not exactly. Makes me feel a little less special, is all.”

Special?
Thinking about what I had planned for him, I fought down a grin. “Well. The night is young, Pike.”

Peering at me suspiciously, he looked away as the doors opened. A host was waiting for us, and though they gave a quick once over of Pike's outfit, they didn't dare say a word. They didn't know who he was—yet–but if he was eating here, on my company's dime, he was someone deserving of respect.

“Welcome to the World's Antenna!” Our host said, guiding us out into the wide room. The floors were rich maroon, the ceiling opal with veins of gold. Everything was surrounded by windows, top to bottom. There wasn't a bad seat in the house.

Our booth was in a far corner, as much privacy as I could manage for us. The host sat us, handed us the menus, then left without another word. I appreciated that; I wanted time to talk to Pike, not to hear the food specials.

Settling into the velvet seat, Pike put his chin on his fist and watched me. “Did you
know
I always wanted to come here?”

Laughing, I spread my menu. “What do you mean? How could I know?”

“You said Maximal has a lot of power. A company like that... imagine what they can find out.”

Between us, a fragile line spread. I felt it, it led me back to his accusing stare. Damn, this was where things should have been easy. Pike didn't trust me, or Maximal. That was obvious.

How did I make amends with him?

Shutting the menu, I pushed it aside. “You want to know what I know about you.”

His shoulders mashed into his ears. “I think that'd be fair.”

So here it was. A seesaw that tilted either way. I could bite my tongue and keep him paranoid, or I could risk putting him off by spilling the beans. I didn't like either idea, but...

He deserves to know.

Sighing, I peered around covertly. No one was near us. “Alright, here. Maximal did some research on you. We know about your... extensive police record.”

A slew of emotions rampaged across his face. I recognized disgust—expected that—but when he eased into something like appreciation, I was baffled. “I was wondering about that, specifically. Alright. So you know my past, but you still want to sponsor me?”

“Yes,” I blurted.

I was too eager; he knew it. Smiling, he stroked the edge of his menu. The motion was strangely obscene, it made my mind wander, imagining how steadily he could use his hands on me.

Turning towards the window, he studied the city below us. “Here's your chance to tell me why.”

“Why we want you?” I blinked, but I had a speech ready; a variant that had proven to work on everyone else. “Maximal thinks you're an amazing athlete. One of a kind. There's no one using a guy like you out there, in commercials or anything. We want to be the first.”

“Do you really think I'm amazing?”

“We think—”

“No.” He cut me off, shooting his intense stare back to me. “I'm asking about you, Miss Cutter.”

“Ellie,” I said on reflex. I rubbed my ankle with my opposite toe.
He wants to know what I think about him?
The answer wasn't clear, not even to me. But I knew most of it was... inappropriate. I couldn't bare to voice such thoughts.

Peeking around, willing a waiter to save me, I gave up. I had to say something. “When I watched that video of you, I thought... I thought what you did was brilliant.” I  toyed with my earring, absently flicking it. “You jumped without any fear. Not that I could see, anyway. I don't know anyone else like that. So... yeah.” Facing him, I noticed he hadn't moved. “I do think you're amazing, Pike.”

His blue irises tracked over me. Then they snapped away, stolen by the waiter who'd arrived to take our order.

That was good. I needed to get away from this line of questions. Being probed by Pike wasn't part of the plan.

The waiter didn't need to write down what we wanted—a sign of true skill. After dropping off our drinks, he left us to the odd silence broken by the murmur of conversation around us.

I need to get things moving.
Sipping my wine, I stroked my purse under the table. I'd brought the contract; maybe I
was
optimistic, as he said, but having it nearby was reassuring. “Now that you know how I—we feel about you,” I said, “What are you thinking?”

He tilted the short, thick glass of whiskey. Normally, I'd love for a client to get drunk, but tonight... it would mess things up. I had to make sure he didn't get sloshed.

“I'm thinking I want to know more about the perks.”

Nodding, I spread my hands on the table. “Maximal will pay you to advertise energy drinks, gear, shoes, whatever will get the most money in your pockets.”

He stretched an arm over the top of the booth. “And yours.”

I wasn't bothered by his assertion. “Yes, and ours. It's a mutual relationship. We make you famous, then we put your face and name out there. The riches are shared between all of us.”

His profile was strong, a shapely nose that made him almost regal. Not watching me, he whispered, “And your promise?”

My promise?
I remembered last night.

I didn't want to remember last night.

Clearing my throat, I said quickly, “Letting you jump where your heart desires, yes. We can do that.” I had a sudden flicker of curiosity. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

He looked into the bottom of his glass, taking another gulp. “Possibly. I just don't want to be disappointed.”

“We won't disappoint you, Pike.”

Considering me, his lips lifted at the corners. His knowing smile was unnerving. “I'm starting to wonder about that.”

Our food arrived quickly, and we ate in relative silence. I barely touched mine, though the rare steak was exactly up my alley. My appetite was lost, swimming in the sea that was Pike's flexing forearms and parting lips on each bite he took.

Even his teeth were fucking sexy.

In my purse, my phone buzzed. I slid it out, read the message.

It was time.

Pushing my plate aside, I waved at the waiter, ready to hand him the company card. “How do you feel?” I asked Pike.

Finishing off his whiskey, he cracked his knuckles. “Pretty good. No complaints yet.”

“Good enough to sign a contract?”

His eyes narrowed, but before he spoke, I waved a hand to silence him. “No, I figured not yet. I have a surprise for you, it might help prove our position to you.”

BOOK: Exposing the Bad Boy
5.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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