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~~~Being Bad Never Felt So Good~~~
Being bad never felt so good.
I fell for Ally the moment I saw her. Who doesn’t like a confident, intelligent woman with curves I could spend days exploring?
Who am I kidding?
Our story ended abruptly when she packed her bags and left like we weren’t meant to be. We are. So I’m calling her bluff. That’s how I ended up thousands of miles from home, standing next to a man who claims to be her fiancé.
Being good has never felt so bad.
When it comes to a successful man with an incredible body and biteable jaw aka Hutton . . . let’s just say willpower is not my strong suit.
Embracing my newfound good girl status, I do the right thing to start my reign. My desires no longer matter. The monarchy, the people, and my country do. There is no place for love in this new life.
But I never expected to see him again, much less standing next to my royally appointed soon-to-be fiancé.
As if that didn’t complicate things, he’s wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo and my favorite smirk. I straighten my crown and adjust my dress, realizing this good girl never stood a chance. I’ll take the bad reputation if I get him.
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“I’m going to talk to her.”
“Damn, dude,” my friend Gear says. “You have balls of confidence.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the most beautiful woman in the bar. Despite wearing the frumpiest costume I’ve ever seen, she stands out among the crowd. Beauty like hers doesn’t blend in.
“She’s the hottest chick in the place, even if she is dressed like that,” Gear says.
She brushes a strand of chestnut-colored hair off her perfectly poised shoulders as she takes a sip of her drink. Her skin is smooth and without the tanning bed glow most women my age have. It’s refreshing. And compelling. And a complete turn-on.
“Lemme ask you something. I know the Everest brothers tend to get what they want, but have you ever been shot down, Hutton?”
Gear rolls his eyes. “Well, I have and it sucks.”
A group of college-aged kids huddle at the end of the bar. There’s no doubt they’re trying to summon the courage to talk to her.
“Do you have a point?” I ask. “Because, if not, I’m heading over there.”
Two fingers come out from around his pint glass and point her way. “There’s a reason no guy is approaching her. She’s gorgeous, but for fuck’s sake, I bet she’s a cold-as-ice princess, man. And you didn’t even dress up for Halloween.”
I glance at my attire. The same gray dress pants and white button-down shirt I left Houston in this morning cover my body. I didn’t have time to plan for Halloween.
“Check out the devil in the corner.”
Three women dressed to be noticed stand in the corner with empty glasses. Their coy act—looking around innocently while batting their eyelashes—stand in stark contrast to the costumes they chose this Halloween. And Gear falls right in line with what they are going for. He nods his approval.
I check out the woman he’s eyeing, but there’s nothing there that draws me. She’s sexy—hot, even—but when I shoot a glance back at the other one in the corner, there’s no comparison.
“She’s all yours,” I say. “And probably anyone else’s who wants her tonight. I like to fuck, but it’s not about quantity. It’s about quality.”
“So you’re saying the frumpy princess is quality? How do you figure?” Gear asks, then takes a sip of his beer.
“Because she doesn’t have to show off that sexy little body she’s hiding under that dress. Pay attention. See how the top hugs her chest?”
“I can tell how her breasts are shaped—full teardrops that are more than a handful. And I have big hands. Also, they’re real, or they’d ride high.”
“What’s wrong with fake tits?”
I laugh. “Nothing. Just telling you how I break it down.”
“Okay. Go on,” he says, setting his glass down and then crossing his arms. “What else, oh wise one?”
“Is that sarcasm I detect?” I joke. “Just for that, I’m not giving you anything else. You can figure out life on your own.”
Gear pops back with some ridiculous retort, but his words fall on deaf ears. My eyes return to the beauty just in time to catch her eyes on me. I nod out of habit and instantly kick myself for it. Fuck. That’s not going to impress her.
She smiles but turns away to talk with her friend who’s dressed in what appears to be a deflated ball gown. Then I get it. And as soon as I realize what they’re dressed up as, I start laughing.
“I get the frump,” I state.
“Huh?” Gear motions for another beer. “You get what frump?”
“I know what she’s supposed to be.” The bartender draws my attention when he tosses a bottle in the air, much to the amusement of the small crowd watching. I’m amused, too, but not with him. A single plastic slipper sits unattended at the end of the bar. It appears to be a discarded costume prop.
“This is all I need,” I tell Gear, grabbing the shoe.
He laughs. “A shoe can’t save you from blue balls. Save your balls the trouble.” I tuck the shoe into my belt at my back.
I take a deep breath. “I’ll be back . . . unless I get lucky, and then I’ll see you tomorrow before I leave.”
He takes the filled glass from the bartender and tips it my way. “I’ll bet you the next round you’re back here before I can order another one.”
“You’re on,” I say, already walking away.
The pretty woman tracks me as I make my way over, a small smile playing on those delicate lips I hope to be kissing later.
Her gaze heats my blood. The slight lift of her chin making it hard not to walk too fast or start talking too quickly.
Play it cool, Hutton.
The bandana on her head only hides the top. The rest of her brown hair flows down over her back in soft waves. She clasps her hands in front of her and stands, angled my way, as if she’s waited her whole life for me.