Billionaire Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF

rip at the knee and yellow paint splotches down the legs from
the time she'd painted her kitchen cupboards. "What about a leather
jacket?"
    "No."
    "Denim jacket?"
    "Nothing I'd be caught dead wearing this decade. Even
I've got fashion standards."
    He laughed softly. "Too bad. Find it and put it
on. Fashion's not the issue. Yet."
    She crossed her arms. She certainly was not going to be seen wearing that jacket. It had Spice Girls patches sewn onto it
for crying out loud! Her father had got it for her years ago. It had been cool
in the Nineties. She hadn't worn it then either.
    "Do you always tell women what to
do?" she asked.
    "Yes."
    "And do they listen?"
    "Some do," he said, studying a pair of flat,
brown sandals she wore to the beach on the occasional visit.
    "Which ones?"
    "The ones who want to sleep with me," he
said from the depths of her closet.
    She blushed. "I guess that means I don't."
    "The day's not over yet."
    What sort of ego trip was this guy on anyway? And how
did he know she'd thought about sleeping with him? "You're arrogant, you
know that?"
    "So they tell me."
    "Oh yeah? Who?"
    He turned around, a pair of sturdy hiking boots
dangling from his fingers. His eyes sparkled as he fought back a grin. "The
ones who pretend they don't want to sleep with me."
    She snatched the boots, spun on her heel
and marched into the bathroom, a trickle of quiet laughter following her.

 
     
    CHAPTER 4
     
     
    Annie followed Zack out to the street where a gleaming
black motorbike parked at the curb screamed rebel . He pulled on a helmet
and settled onto the seat. The soft leather molded to his rear end like it was
made for him. Mmmm, yum . He looked sexy sitting astride the sleek
machine. She had to admit, he was cool .
    Way too cool to hang out with the sort of girl who
wore dated denim jackets. It must be torture for him to appear in public with
her a second time. His reputation would take a beating if they were seen
together too often.
    "Get on," he said, holding her helmet.
    Still annoyed by his arrogant comments in her bedroom,
she really wanted to refuse, but one look at where she would sit kept her mouth
shut. She'd go along. For now. She put on the helmet and slid onto the seat
behind him.
    "Now put your arms around my waist," he
said.
    She sniffed. "I don't want to." Liar. Every
hair on her arms screamed to touch his body. No doubt his stomach was washboard
flat and his chest hard.
    "Okay, fine with me. Hang onto the seat behind
you. Use both hands—I hate it when people fall off."
    He was joking. Wasn't he?
    She reached around and found a little handle on the
back of the seat. She gripped tightly as Zack kicked over the engine. It roared
aggressively, defiantly, challenging her neighbors to come outside and
complain.
    Before she knew it, the motorbike leaped forward and
they took off. Fast. Way too fast. For the first time in her life, Annie felt
fear. Gut wrenching, white knuckled fear. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a
mental note to never get on a motorbike again.
    They turned a corner and she bit back a scream as the
bike tipped dangerously to the right. Her grip on the handle behind felt
awkward and insecure. If she let go there was nothing stopping her from falling
off except for the grip of her inner thighs around the large black bike. And
the muscles in that region were sadly weak from disuse.
    She opened her eyes but closed them again when she saw
they were in the midst of traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway. At least Zack
wasn't weaving in and out of lanes as she'd seen other motorcyclists do, but he
wasn't slowing down either.
    "Slow down," she yelled.
    But he didn't hear her over the roar of the engine and
wind. She hung on tighter. Her arms and legs began to throb.
    When it felt like they were heading in a straight
line, she opened her eyes a fraction and quickly looked around. The scenery
flew past and the wind dragged at the sleeves of her jacket, plastering it to
her body. She was thankful she was