Bad Boy Valentine: The Hard and Dirty Holidays Read Online Free PDF Page B

I said, I make no bones about my past. I’ve been with a lot of women.”
    She flinched a little at my words. I took her hand and pressed it between mine.
    “But that was before you.”
    “You don’t know me.” She shook her head.
    “At the risk of sounding like a total stalker, I know you’re about to go to law school. I know you worked your way through undergraduate. I know your parents have never really supported you and that everything you’ve done, you’ve done on your own. You’ve been on Dean’s List every semester. You volunteer at the Humane Society even though you’re allergic to cats. I could go on but I don’t want you to run out the door.”
    She put her glass of milk down. “How do you know all that?”
    My stomach twisted. I didn’t want her to think I was a perv or something. “Social media snooping and, well, I own the building, so I did a background check on you when you moved in.”
    She stared at me, her mouth slightly open.
    “But it’s not like I put cameras in your apartment or anything,” I hurriedly added. Had I thought about it? I plead the Fifth.
    “What?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you own the building?”
    I tossed my napkin on the bar and leaned back. “Yeah. Bought it two years ago.”
    She drank down the rest of her milk, as if buying time to think.
    “Tell me what you know about me. Don’t hold back. I know you’ve done your homework, too.” I smiled remembering how many times I’d caught her watching me.
    “Well, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and met my eyes. “I know you have a, um, darker past. That you’ve been to prison. That you are notorious for getting with models at your shoots—”
    “Not anymore,” I interjected.
    She nodded. “Okay, so you were notorious for that. That you’re one of the most sought-after photographers in town. That you ride a motorcycle and have a penchant for fast cars. And that you make my heart do this weird stutter step whenever I see you.” Her eyes grew wide when she finished her last sentence, and she looked away.
    Her honesty was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
    “I feel it, too.”
    “You do?” She watched me through her lashes.
    “Yes.”
    “Then what took you so long to-to . . .”
    “To talk to you?” I ran my fingers through her hair.
    “Yes.”
    “I had some work to do.”
    She canted her head to the side. I had to explain, but hated telling her the whole, ugly truth. Still, it had to be done.
    “Work on myself, really, is what it amounts to. What you said about the women.” I rolled my shoulders, suddenly nervous. “That was true. I didn’t want to be that man anymore. I didn’t want to get black out drunk or high as a kite after a shoot and wake up with strange women in my bed. That wasn’t good enough for you.” I took her hands in mine as I laid myself bare. “ I wasn’t good enough for you. The moment I saw you, I knew. I knew it in my bones. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. I just needed some time to get my shit together.”
    Her eyes opened wider as I spoke. “For me?”
    “All for you. Yes.” I kissed her fingertips. “I still shoot at night. But I don’t sleep with models. I barely even drink anymore and I haven’t touched powder in months. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to ride my bike. I’m still going to get inked and pierced and probably get into fights. I’m still going to be me, but I want to be the best version of me possible. Because that’s what you deserve.”
    A tear rolled down her cheek and I wiped it away.
    “Is it too much?”
    She cleared her throat, the tears thick in the sounds. “No.” She kissed me, all shyness gone. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she licked my lips and moved her hands to the back of my neck.
    She was sweet from her sandwich and cool from the milk. But her body was pure heat. I ran my hands to her waist and edged my fingers under her top. My palms were itching for her skin. Chill bumps erupted along