The Bad Boys of Eden (94 page)

“Stop,” I awoke to Hedda licking my face. I looked at the clock, 8:00pm.
Ugh.
I walked out to the main area and noticed Lex was watching TV.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

“Vive is at the bar. Blake is asleep in his room. Leon came by.”

“He did?” My spirit lifted.

“Yes and he brought you those.” She pointed to a crystal vase filled with long stem roses. Blossoms of pink, yellow, and white were mixed together. “There’s a card too.”

“Did ‘ya read it?”

“Duh!” Lex smirked.

“Don’t tell me.” I said and plucked the envelope from the bouquet. Inhaling the scent, I closed my eyes, and realized I’d never had anyone send me flowers before. Once again, Leon broke a new first for me.

Opening the card, I read his cursive writing. It was in French.
Errr.

This note was clearly written by a dude. I couldn’t make out what it said.

Lex smiled as I came back into the room.

“What does this say?”

She laughed and read out loud, “Princess Lolly—you are beautiful. Own it.”

“Wow.” My heart melted all over again. I sat beside her on the sofa.

“When did you two talk about Candy Land?”

“At sea, we chatted about a lot of things.” I thought back to that raft for a minute. “Lex, why do you think I gravitated toward Lolly when we were little?”

Sitting dessert plate she munched on to the side, she said, “Why do kids like what they like? Sponge Bob. The Smurfs. Who knows? Lolly was the spirit of adventure. She danced to the sound of her own music, following shiny things that fascinated her. Isn’t that you?”

I nodded. “It’s exhausting being me sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” she replied jokingly, lifted the plate and offered, “Cookie?”

* * *

Uncertain if I’d go through with it or not, the next morning, I found myself showered and ready as if my subconscious had wanted to move forward with the photo shoot.

There was a knock at the door. Blake was still asleep. Dang those pills knocked him out. I went to answer it.

“Coming,” I tied the robe around my waist, turned the knob expecting to see Fabian with his make-up kit and clothes for today.

“Salut,” Leon greeted me, taller than I remembered.

“Hi,” I managed back at him.

Holding a large lollypop in his hand, he appeared nervous. “May I come in?”

I stepped back, giving him space to enter.

Leon glanced at the flowers. “I did not know if you had a favorite flower. Red is your favorite color but I did not want to send the wrong message, twice.”

“Thank you. They’re lovely and the card’s message was touching.” I pointed to the prop in his hand. “So we’re really doing a Candy Land theme, huh?”

“Oui.” He stepped closer and handed me the lollypop. Cut from grained colorful wood it was a scepter. “Master made this for you. He’s transformed the entire ballroom downstairs into the Lollipop Woods.”

My heartbeat quickened.

“Taddy I am sorry for taking advantage of you and our situation.”

“Don’t be silly. You didn’t. I encouraged you to have sex with me.”

“I should have told you about Fabian,” he lowered his voice.

“Maybe, but perhaps you thought you’d never see him again.” I reached for him.

He nodded slowly, taking me into his arms. It felt good to have him hold me again. That citrus smell of his was back. I loved that.

“I have no regrets about us and our time in the water, do you?”

His forehead touched mine lovingly. “You were my first woman.”

“What?”

“Fabian is the only person I have ever had sex with.”

Whoa!
I wasn’t expecting him to say that. My vantage point on him and us and everything just shifted. “For a newbie you certainly were pretty darn good, considering we were floating with little sunlight. Keep in mind I have nothing to compare you against.”

Well, other than yesterday when I sat on your boyfriends face.

“You are an amazing person Mademoiselle. Boys at the university will fight over you.”

“Did you enjoy being with the opposite sex?”

“Very much,” he answered and then he kissed me. Pulling my body against his, his tongue with mine, I couldn’t resist this man. Learning I was his first as he was mine helped me realize we were a lot alike, him and I. Curious about life. We beat to our own drum.

“You don’t have to do the pictures if you don’t want to. Fabian and I can look for new jobs when we get back to Paris.”

“Don’t be foolish.” I slipped on a pair of sandals. “I thought about it, Leon, and I do want to do the pictures. But not for the reasons you think.”

“Why then?”

“Something you said to me in the water about embracing what I have and letting go of what I don’t. I’m happy to be alive and that we met. You’ve changed my life in ways I don’t think you’ll ever know.”

“I feel the same way about you Mademoiselle.”

“One day when I’m not so young, I’ll look back at the photos and wish I had liked myself a little bit more than I do right now.”

“You are wise Mademoiselle.”

“Ha! Not really. I also need the money and I figured having this nude pictorial out there for the world to see is the first step in accepting who I really am.”

“And who is that?”

“Why…Miss Taddy Brill, of course!”

* * *

A week later school started. With Blake at my side and a dozen or so other students around us we sat and listened to the professor of our morning class talk about Brand Marketing. According to his business savvy insights, luxury goods were on the rise and promotional professionals were in high demand.

“We should start a firm repping handbags and stuff.” Blake said in my ear. The sores from the fire were healing nicely.

“I like the sound of that,” I said. As Blake listened on, I returned to an email I was writing on my laptop…

Hey Leon, Fabian and Gustave

Thank you for sending me copies of the photos and letting me decide which ones go to print. When I stare at them, I don’t recognize myself. I’m convinced you hired a body-double to pose after me and my besties left Eden. Hehehe.

In all seriousness, I was touched by the respect and care you showed me that day. You three are true gentlemen, making me regret all of the horrible things I’ve ever said about Frenchmen. Thank you for that.

In your previous email you mentioned that another magazine in the States wants to run the photos in tandem with Claire La Femme. You tell that Mr. Hefner there is not enough money in the world to have my face in his publication. Let’s keep the photos exclusive to Europe.

Before I forget, Lex, Vive, Blake, and I are coming to Paris for Thanksgiving. Seems I’ll be seeing the three of you very soon.

Yours Truly,

Taddy

PS, Fabian we still have some unfinished matters to attend to. I’m curious, remember.

# # #

If you loved this story by Avery Aster, sign up for her newsletter at
eepurl.com/CQ665
to hear about her latest releases or keep in touch using the following links:

Website:             
www.AveryAster.com

Newsletter:             
eepurl.com/CQ665

Facebook:             
www.FaceBook.com/AveryAster

Twitter:             
@AveryAster

Goodreads:             
www.Goodreads.com/AveryAster

Pinterest:             
www.Pinterest.com/AveryAster

Instagram:             
www.Instagram.com/AveryAster

Tumblr:             
www.AveryAster.Tumblr.com/

To skip directly to the next story,
click here
.

About Avery Aster

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Avery Aster writes the naughty romantic soap opera series of full-length, stand-alone novels, The Manhattanites and its juicy prequel companion The Undergrad Years.

Talk Supe Book Reviews says that Avery’s narrative voice is a throwback to Judith Krantz, weaving dazzling tales of love, glitz, and drama while Ever After Romance reports Avery’s characters are like Sex and the City on steroids but younger and sexier. Avery graduated from New York University and lives on the Upper East Side.

Also by Avery Aster

Undressed (The Manhattanites #1)

Unscrupulous (The Manhattanites #2)

Add Avery’s Upcoming Releases to Your Goodreads TBR List

http://www.goodreads.com/AveryAster

The Undergrad Years series

Yours Truly, Taddy

XO, Blake

Always & Forever, Vive

The Manhattanites series

Unsaid

Unique

Uncensored

Excerpts From Avery Aster's Other Books

Meet Taddy Brill as an adult in UNSCRUPULOUS (The Manhattanites).

Here’s a smexy excerpt…

UNSCRUPULOUS (The Manhattanites)

Avery Aster

Excerpt

Tonight, Brayden stood before her near an ivory banquette set in a private corner. His wide broad shoulders and backside faced her.

A server talked to him.

She couldn’t see his face. But it had to be Brayden.

Taddy pushed her shoulders back and her confidence out. She stepped closer, three feet opposite the velvet rope separating him. “Brayden—I’ve attended every game.”

Entrenched as he was in conversation, Brayden’s sculpted shoulders didn’t turn around.

Damn this loud music.
She had no doubt he was Brayden. Hands large enough to throw a football one hundred twenty yards, he could pick her body up, slam her against the wall—in a good way—and fuck her until she screamed—in a very good way.

As any fierce New Yorker would, she slipped behind the restricted area without being noticed. Taddy stepped in behind him. For a millisecond, she closed her eyes and took in his smell—baby powder. As he talked to the server, Brayden’s baritone voice sent a vibration through her entire body. She wanted to jump on top of him and say, “He’s mine—all mine.” After six years and over ninety-eight games, her time was now.

“Excuse me, Brayden.” Fearing her toes would get squashed, she didn’t dare poke him.

Still nothing.

Waris Sugar, you’re preventing me from getting laid. Turn down this flippin’ music.
“EXCUSE ME,” her Manhattanite-taxi-cab-calling, last-sale-at-Barney’s, no-you-didn’t-cut-me-off-in-line-at-Duane-Reade voice erupted toward his tall ears.

The server talking to Brayden acknowledged her existence and pointed over his shoulder, causing him to turn.

She started to repeat, “I’ve attended every—”

He wasn’t Brayden Brooks. This hot man’s face was…

“You are excused.” He smiled with his warm hazel eyes, studying her, possibly enjoying the view.

Your face is per-fucking-fection.
Her NFL game recovered a turnover, scoring a touchdown. Taddy Brill—six points. Big Daddy, you’d better advance. “Sorry I uh—I thought you might be someone—else.”

“And who would that be?” He bowed, as if giving her his full attention, revealing his V-shaped torso covered by a sheer white shirt.

Her eyes counted his abs up—two (
umm
), four (
ooh
), six (
holy shit
), eight (
he’s mine
). “Brayden…Brooks.” Mortified beyond belief, she realized Birdie’s insanity had become contagious.

The server laughed from behind him. “The football player?”

“Happens a lot.” He smiled off the staff, accepting the conversation. “Sorry to disappoint you.” He returned those inviting chestnut eyes back to her.

“You guys could be twins.” She studied him in closer detail. “In particular from behind—and I’m not disappointed in the least.” Her face-body-voice assessment of this man confirmed he embodied a hunk ratio ten times hotter than the Brayden whatchamacallit she’d OCD’d over for longer than she cared to admit even to herself.

“Do you stare at men’s behinds often?” He overshadowed her. Leaning in closer, this stud conveyed importance.

Her thighs clenched as she stood and defended herself, “No—unless they’re Brayden Brooks’, or now yours.” Gripping her Judith Leiber clutch, she tried to stop her hands from fidgeting. She’d always been tall. No man had ever made her feel petite—until tonight.
Keep it together, Red.
“I’m Red,” she introduced herself over the strident tune. “It’s nice to meet you.” Unsure if the conversation would climb uphill or down, she didn’t reveal her identity. Taddy Brill holidayed unknown as Lex requested. Since this club was part of the hotel where their reservation had been made, she’d stick with it.

“Red—huh?” Suspicion quirked his eyebrow and he complimented, “Neat name. I’m—” Waris Sugar boomed as he took her hand in both of his and she couldn’t really hear the rest.

“Nice to meet you, Garner.” Is that what he’d said? It had sounded like it. But he didn’t exude a Garnie. He resembled a Big Daddy.

“Care for a drink—Red?”

“Champagne, please. Thank you.”

“Which do you prefer?” His hands took her arm with gentle authority to the seated area next to them by a round table.

She blinked in haste. He sat my ass down. “Something—anything with bubbles is fine.”

“There are many champagne flavors and types.” His arms spread wide. “You could have Ultra Brut, with no sugar, it may taste bitter.”

“I’m not bitter.” She shook her head, tapping his thigh.
Oh my Lordie.
His body felt like rock.

“Brut regular. It’s dry with one and a half percent sugar.” His eyebrows drew together, revealing the ever-so-adorable furrow from his forehead.

“There’s nothing regular about me either.” Not wanting to remove her hand, she let her fingers glide higher up his leg. She’d inch higher until he pushed her off.

He glanced down at her hand and invited her to continue.

Red’s comin’ for ya.
So she did. A magnetic pull drew her into him. She’d waited years to sit, talk, stroke and play with a man such as this. Am I shallow? Abso-fucking-lutely! Who cares?

“You could do extra dry. It’s sweeter with two percent sugar.”

“Do you have any more suggestions?” Taddy was accustomed to making snap decisions under any circumstance. But nothing lingered as circumstantial with this man. Intent on taking her time, she’d do something never done before. She’d let a man—order for her.

“Yes…dry champagne.” He swallowed hard and added, “Four percent sugar.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward. He observed her hand inching closer.

“I’ve made my mind up.” She wanted him. Screw the champagne.

“You have?” His leg rose a little higher, grinding warmth against her palm, encouraging her to fondle him more. Perhaps he enjoyed her finger lap dance.

“What’ll it be?”

“Obviously you have good taste—possibly better than mine.” She shut her mouth to see if he’d follow her words. Taddy studied his lips, and then glanced into his eyes. Gold flecks stared back at her. It caused goose bumps on her thighs.

She confirmed he listened to her every word—hanging on to them, waiting for her to speak again. Good! Very good. She licked her lips.

Nipples hard, she said, “I’d like to have whatever juice you’re serving.” Their eyes locked, and her nails dug a little into him as if saying, “Mine.”

“Red, something tells me you enjoy extremes.” He grabbed the top of her hand.

“Sorry.” She realized she’d gone too far. Typical.

“Don’t apologize.” Interlocking his fingers with hers, Big Daddy shoved her hand to his hard-on.

“I do love…intensity,” she confessed, outlining the large bulge.

# # #