3rd in the Perfectly Wicked Series
Some women are misunderstood, others are a misdemeanor waiting to happen…
Katarina was a very bad girl, but she spent five years in the Dungeon paying for her crimes and made a vow to leave her wicked ways behind her. She's praying a make-over and a stint on Kingdom City's newest reality show, Real Life Ways to Catch a King, will help her get back on her feet. Unfortunately the show's producer, notorious bad boy, Serge, is making it hard for her to resist giving in to her naughtier nature…
Serge is looking to turn his life around. He wants a wife and a family, and a place in respectable society. Taking up with a former Wicked Queen with a penchant for poison apples isn't on his agenda. But Kat quickly proves to be irresistible, and when a mutual affection for public passion turns into something more, he has to make a decision. Break the heart of the only woman he's ever loved, or risk forever being known as a "bad apple".
"Serge? Hello?" Kat called cautiously from the entrance to the men's locker room.
"Is there anyone in here?"
It was after eleven on a Friday night and the place appeared deserted. She hadn't seen a soul except Serge and herself—other than Molly, who had clearly been on her way out—since she'd walked past the bored attendant at the ground floor entrance. Still, she really didn't want to burst in on any manly gym rats hardcore enough to spend their Friday night pumping iron.
Of course, she was spending her Friday night in the same fashion. What did that say about her? Yet another question she didn't want to answer. She was full of them tonight.
"Serge?" she called again, hearing nothing but the sound of a single shower hitting the elegant Italian tiles. Decadently outfitted showers were one of the touches that made her club the most exclusive in the city.
She knew she should have sold her lifetime membership after she was released from the dungeon and pocketed the money, but it was one of the few places where she still felt welcome. Though she'd never had many friends at the club, the few people who had known her—like Molly—seemed glad to see her back at the gym, looking healthy and determined to stay that way.
"Hello? Is there anyone here?" she asked one more time before she eased through the doorway.
So this was the men's locker room. It looked exactly like the women's except it was done in muted browns and yellows instead of peaches and pinks. She preferred the more manly colors herself, but then she had longstanding issues with pink. Some redheads could pull it off, but she didn't consider herself one of them.
The sound of the shower led her down the hallway at the rear of the room, where she prayed she would find Serge. Surprising him at the urinal wouldn't be nearly as sexy. The shower was better, much better, especially if she wanted to pull off the whole "kiss and make up" thing. Her hands shook as she opened the glass door that led into the shower-sauna-hot tub area, more nervous than she could remember being in years. She paused just inside, taking a deep breath of hot, humid air, fighting the urge to turn and flee.
There was no reason to be nervous! What man wouldn't want a naked women to surprise him in the shower? There was no way he'd tell her to get lost, to take her itty-bitty-titties and leave him in peace. Right?
"Right," Kat whispered to herself, ignoring her racing heart as she peeled off her white t-shirt and black spandex pants. The sports bra, underwear and socks went next. And then…
Then she was naked and freezing in the middle of the men's locker room, getting ready to surprise a man she wasn't even one hundred percent sure was Serge. Shit! She truly was crazy not to have thought of that before stripping down. What if Serge hadn't gone to the locker room? What if he'd headed down to his limo without bothering to shower in his haste to get as far away from her as possible? What if—
Quit freaking out, and take a peek inside! It's not too late to grab your clothes and run.
Right. Kat tiptoed to the last shower stall, cursing the wavy glass that made it hard to see clearly who was behind it. She could make out a hint of tanned skin and dark hair and that was about it. Half the men in the gym met that description. Damn it! She was just going to have to take a chance and hope that she wasn't preparing to flash a total stranger.
"If you're not Serge, then I'm not here for you." She spoke in a loud, clear voice as she threw open the door to the shower. Not the sexiest greeting, but it got the point across.
Thank god, it wasn't a point that needed to be made.
"Even if I weren't myself, I think I would try my best to convince you." Serge smiled and shot her a heated look, appearing only the slightest bit surprised to see her nude in the men's locker room. The man was impossible. Did nothing shock him? "You're even sexier without any clothes on."
"That's nice of you to say." Kat stepped into the stall and closed the door behind her, an electric thrill of anticipation running through her body when she stood only a foot away from him.
He was also sexier without clothes, unbelievably sexier. All those hard, sculpted muscles were on display, slick from the shower and practically begging someone to run their tongue over them and lick away the beads of water. His shoulders looked even wider than they had in his suit and the raw power in his arms was obvious as he ran hands through his wet hair, flipping it out of his eyes. More curly black hair dusted his chest and tapered to a trail that led her eyes down over his flat stomach and then inevitably lower.
God help her, he had the most perfect cock she'd ever seen. It was the same shade of dark tan as the rest of his skin with a thick head and a luscious ridge of flesh where head became shaft. Imagining how that ridge would feel as he tunneled in and out of her, watching him swell under her gaze, made her pussy even wetter than it was already. Soon he was fully engorged, unbelievably thick with a glistening teardrop of fluid on the tip of his cock that was clearly distinguishable from the water that flowed down his body.
It was perfect. He was perfect.
So perfect, she almost couldn't believe that he was hot for her, for her and her nonexistent breasts and frizzy hair and apparently undesirable scrawniness.
"I wanted to say I was sorry," Kat mumbled, the haze of lust that clouded her mind making her voice husky. "There was no need to be such a cunt."
"Katarina." Her name was a gentle warning and Kat felt herself blush.
"Right, sorry, I know you don't like the dirty mouth." She tried to smile, but failed. She was suddenly ashamed, certain that no matter how much she physically aroused him, Serge would decide she wasn't worth the trouble.
She was turning to leave when he reached out and captured her around the waist with one strong arm, pushing her back against the cold tile.
Kat gasped as his warm body pressed tightly against her, the contrast of his heat at her front and cold tile at her back making her nipples diamond-hard and ridiculously sensitive. His cock pressed against her belly, hard and demanding. She tried to wedge her hand between them, to get her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, but he captured her wrists, pinning them to the tile above her, letting her know that she wouldn't be calling the shots.
"I adore your mouth, but you taint your beauty with your speech." His jaw clenched and every muscle flexed, as if he were finding it difficult to keep from thrusting inside of her that very instant. The desire in his eyes, clear in every line of his body, made her tremble.
"You don't think I'm beautiful." She fought the urge to moan as he pushed his hips closer until she was forced into even more intimate contact with his arousal. She squirmed in his arms, wanting to loop a leg around his waist. She ached to rock her slick sex against him, to ease the tension coiling low in her body, but found herself unable to move.
"Don't tell me what I think." He held her still, immobilized, and her heart raced at the strange thrill of being completely under this man's power.
"You were trying to fatten me up."
"Stop fighting me, Kat." His lips dropped to her throat, the warm water hitting his back spraying lightly into her face as he kissed and licked and her pulse sped impossibly faster.
"I'm not fighting you." She moaned as he bit down on the sensitive skin at her throat, then let his lips play softly at her ear.
"Then stop fighting yourself." He transferred control of her wrists to one hand and cupped her face with the other, tilting her up to meet his lips.
His pressure was firm and powerful, commanding yet strangely tender. Kat melted into the kiss, oblivious to everything but the feel of this man's lips, teeth and tongue swiftly driving her out of her mind. No one had ever kissed her like this, ever. No other man had ever made her feel so precious, so necessary, as if the taste of her were vital to his very existence. She was so consumed by him, she hardly noticed the moment he released her wrists, but suddenly found her nails digging into his shoulders and her bottom possessed by a pair of strong, warm hands.
His hands slid up her sides, teased her breasts and ventured back down to cup her ass, but she could feel his main attention was still with the kiss they shared. Every movement of his lips, every nip of his teeth was an erotic communication. The kiss crashed through her defenses, making her ache to slip even closer to him, to press and push and find a way to merge with him completely. She wanted to abandon every last vestige of control and lose herself in the sensations he promised her with every sweep of his tongue. She wanted that sense of completion, ached to know the erotic freedom, the emotional liberation of surrendering herself completely to another person. She realized in that moment that if she were ever going to be capable of abandon, it would be with this man. Him, and only him.