Loaded: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

but I do.
    It’s for Karen, and because deep down I’m really kind of a sap, and because I really thought I’d be doing this with Nick someday, at least before he turned out to be a douche.
    It’s a sweet moment. My friend got married to the love of her life. I can fucking shed a tear.
    Then someone steps close to me, and before I can move away, he’s whispering in my ear.
    “Your tag’s out,” Brent says.
    His lips almost brush my ear and a shiver sweeps down my spine.
    “Want me to fix it?”
    “Thanks,” I say, and then his hand is on my bare skin. Apparently the tag is very complicated, because his hand lingers there, his fingers hot against my back.
    Not that I mind.
    I lean back and turn my head, and he bends down so he can hear me.
    “This song’s a little racy for a wedding,” I murmur.
    “Tied up and twisted?” he says, every word another spike to my core. “That’s more your style, tiger.”
    “Don’t call me tiger,” I say.
    “But you’re feisty ,” he says. Karen and Eddie are still on the dance floor and my eyes are glued to them.
    My mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere dirty and getting dirtier.
    “It’s a nickname you’d give a little kid,” I say. People around us are starting to glance over, and I’m rigidly pretending that I don’t notice.
    “I disagree,” he says.
    Then he leans even closer and I swear to God I can feel other people staring .
    “Grrrrrr,” he growls, right into my ear.
    It’s totally ludicrous, and worse, it works .
    I’m heated up like lava is flowing through me. I can’t think of a single thing except what it would feel like to be pressed face-first against the wall of an elevator, Brent’s hands up my skirt, his mouth on my neck...
    The song ends. Thank Christ, the song ends. People clap, and I clap along, doing my best to pretend that a super sexy total stranger didn’t just growl into my ear.
    I also try to ignore him and pretend I didn’t like it.
    Maybe I did. A little.
    I turn around and drift back toward my table. Brent got separated in the crowd, somewhere, but just before I take my seat I feel his hand on my bare shoulder.
    “Save me a dance if you’re still on your feet by then,” he says.
    “You won’t be balls-deep in an elevator?” I ask.
    My grin matches his and I know I’m taunting him, which is not a thing that nice girls do to men they’ve just met.
    It’s not like he’s nice, though, so I don’t care.
    “You make it sound like I’m going to fuck the elevator,” he says.
    “I don’t know your life,” I shoot back. “People are into all kinds of things.”
    “You’d know, tiger,” he says.
    His blue eyes are glinting and he walks around the table and takes his seat where I can’t see his face any more. I can only see his hands as he talks to the woman next to him.
    Somehow, I make conversation with Brittany and her husband, as well as the middle-aged couple on my other side. It feels like the world’s slowest dinner: first there’s salad for about twelve hours, then a day of an amuse-bouche, then a week-long main course.
    Brittany tells me about decorating her living room. The middle-aged man on my other side is talking about his consulting business, and I’m being polite as hell, using the right fork, sitting up straight, and not paying them the tiniest bit of attention.
    I’m just watching his hands. Sometimes his shoulders. Every so often I can hear his laugh from across the table, and one time it stops me mid-sentence as I wonder who he’s laughing with .
    I don’t touch my glass of wine. I think I’m going to need my wits about me.
    What’s left of them, anyway.

Five

Alex
    I think I’m losing my mind. Tessa’s on the other side of the huge fucking flower vase, and all I can see are glimpses of auburn hair and her white shoulders. Every so often she laughs, sometimes politely and sometimes not.
    I’ve been in La Carretera for almost ten years. I’ve killed and hurt more people than I can