LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) by Emilia Holland Page A
Authors: Emilia Holland
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Something Kristen had instilled in me long ago.
“Fuck you, dude. My name is Hayley and I am not your doll.”
“Right. Hayley.” His mood one-eightied too. The openness and lightness he’d begun to reveal to me became overshadowed again by his bravado. His chest puffed out a little bit more and his brow tensed back to its usual glower. I’d upset him and that made me feel curiously powerful.
“My feisty little Hayley,” he countered possessively, ignoring my distaste for his terms of endearment only moments ago. Boy, he wanted to rile me up and sure knew how to do it. He continued, “Well, you enjoy your luggage and your vacation. If you’d excuse me, I have some things to attend to.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the blonde who hadn’t moved far from us.
“Of course,” I said, feeling like a kettle about to scream.
I rolled his bag toward him along the sticky floor and collected my things. Then he leaned in towards my ear and whispered, “Stop being so scared.”
I leaned back and he placed his finger below my chin. I unraveled. My heart gave out. It had appeared to stop pumping entirely, perhaps too busy packing its stuff for a much-deserved early retirement. With a silent heart, breathless lungs, and vacant head, the only action my body knew how to do was to lick my lips, practically inviting Felix to do what he wanted with me. Femme Fatale took a time-out leaving Happy Ever After Hayley to pick up the reigns.
“You haven’t left my mind.” Felix knocked me off balance again. “I don’t have your number, I’m not asking for it. All I’m doing right now is daring you to walk away from me after this.”
“After what?” I mouthed.
His lips pressed to mine and lingered there. He inhaled sharply while my head filled with the masculine redolence of his aftershave. Unable to resist, I found my fingertips foolishly brushing the stubble of his jaw. I could almost feel him communicating something to me that he couldn’t say with words— A vulnerability, a polite request for me to stay but was too stubborn to ask it out loud. This arrogant prick, his warm, tender lips. A kiss to rival any of my favorite fictional epic love stories. An impassioned kiss. An unforgettable kiss. A powerful kiss. An insta-love kind of kiss. I knew they must exist or people wouldn’t write about them so much. Had I found my Romeo in this bad boy? He backed away. My chest heaved. My throat whimpered.
“I…Yep.” And on that signature, ingenious Hayley retort, I ran out of the bar as fast as my heels would carry me.
My hands shook as I took my phone from my purse. I checked it to see where Kristen and Ako had ended up, desperately needing them or some other distraction right now. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t existing in some fantasy simulation.
My phone lit up with a five-minute-old message from Ako:
Pearl lounge, table by the DJ
I checked Maps for the place and sure enough, it was nearby, thank God. On my stumble to find my girls so they could rescue me from my thoughts, I ‘d concluded that who needed alcohol when a boy could have you in this much of a daze? That random, annoying, crazy, gorgeous English jerk — God, he’s such a jerk — gave me the most memorable kiss that I’ve ever had. And what’s more? The act had been about as vanilla as an after-school special. Everything Kristen had tried to persuade me about love had been wrong. Love? This wasn’t love, only infatuation. Regardless, Felix had read me well. I couldn’t walk away from this and I had to stop kidding myself that I could.
In defiance of myself, I made a choice: I could either be a shaking little mess after this or perk up and be proud that some hot guy who could have any girl on the planet is interested in me. I made up my mind— I tossed out my hair, slid my purse higher on my shoulder and walked with a Carrie Bradshaw-like swagger all the way to the club.
Not a chance in hell
“Fuck you, dude. My name is Hayley and I am not your doll.”
“Right. Hayley.” His mood one-eightied too. The openness and lightness he’d begun to reveal to me became overshadowed again by his bravado. His chest puffed out a little bit more and his brow tensed back to its usual glower. I’d upset him and that made me feel curiously powerful.
“My feisty little Hayley,” he countered possessively, ignoring my distaste for his terms of endearment only moments ago. Boy, he wanted to rile me up and sure knew how to do it. He continued, “Well, you enjoy your luggage and your vacation. If you’d excuse me, I have some things to attend to.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the blonde who hadn’t moved far from us.
“Of course,” I said, feeling like a kettle about to scream.
I rolled his bag toward him along the sticky floor and collected my things. Then he leaned in towards my ear and whispered, “Stop being so scared.”
I leaned back and he placed his finger below my chin. I unraveled. My heart gave out. It had appeared to stop pumping entirely, perhaps too busy packing its stuff for a much-deserved early retirement. With a silent heart, breathless lungs, and vacant head, the only action my body knew how to do was to lick my lips, practically inviting Felix to do what he wanted with me. Femme Fatale took a time-out leaving Happy Ever After Hayley to pick up the reigns.
“You haven’t left my mind.” Felix knocked me off balance again. “I don’t have your number, I’m not asking for it. All I’m doing right now is daring you to walk away from me after this.”
“After what?” I mouthed.
His lips pressed to mine and lingered there. He inhaled sharply while my head filled with the masculine redolence of his aftershave. Unable to resist, I found my fingertips foolishly brushing the stubble of his jaw. I could almost feel him communicating something to me that he couldn’t say with words— A vulnerability, a polite request for me to stay but was too stubborn to ask it out loud. This arrogant prick, his warm, tender lips. A kiss to rival any of my favorite fictional epic love stories. An impassioned kiss. An unforgettable kiss. A powerful kiss. An insta-love kind of kiss. I knew they must exist or people wouldn’t write about them so much. Had I found my Romeo in this bad boy? He backed away. My chest heaved. My throat whimpered.
“I…Yep.” And on that signature, ingenious Hayley retort, I ran out of the bar as fast as my heels would carry me.
My hands shook as I took my phone from my purse. I checked it to see where Kristen and Ako had ended up, desperately needing them or some other distraction right now. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t existing in some fantasy simulation.
My phone lit up with a five-minute-old message from Ako:
Pearl lounge, table by the DJ
I checked Maps for the place and sure enough, it was nearby, thank God. On my stumble to find my girls so they could rescue me from my thoughts, I ‘d concluded that who needed alcohol when a boy could have you in this much of a daze? That random, annoying, crazy, gorgeous English jerk — God, he’s such a jerk — gave me the most memorable kiss that I’ve ever had. And what’s more? The act had been about as vanilla as an after-school special. Everything Kristen had tried to persuade me about love had been wrong. Love? This wasn’t love, only infatuation. Regardless, Felix had read me well. I couldn’t walk away from this and I had to stop kidding myself that I could.
In defiance of myself, I made a choice: I could either be a shaking little mess after this or perk up and be proud that some hot guy who could have any girl on the planet is interested in me. I made up my mind— I tossed out my hair, slid my purse higher on my shoulder and walked with a Carrie Bradshaw-like swagger all the way to the club.
Not a chance in hell
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