Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Bad Intentions

  Bad Intentions Excerpt

  Books by Tara Wyatt

  About the Author

  Love Bug © 2021 by Tara Wyatt

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Croco Designs

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ISBN 978-1-7771046-8-9

  1

  Willa Banks couldn’t seem to stop shaking and it wasn’t because of the cold. Ice pellets slapped against the windows of the black SUV, but she was trembling because less than an hour ago, she’d thought she was going to die.

  She couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in her mind—the men with guns in her apartment, the absolutely paralyzing fear that her life was about to end—but it didn’t feel real. That couldn’t have actually happened. There was no way that armed men had invaded the apartment she shared with her best friend Kayla Bristowe and threatened to kill them both because they were looking for Kayla’s boyfriend, Sebastian Prescott.

  But it had happened, along with Sebastian’s brothers Max and Lucian busting in to save them.

  Dispose of the roommate.

  She shook a little harder and Max turned up the heat in the SUV. They’d dropped Kayla off at Lucian’s, waiting there with her until Lucian had returned. She could’ve stayed there too, but when Max had offered to take her back to his place, she’d agreed, wanting to give Kayla and Sebastian a little space. And, truth be told, wanting the comfort of being near Max.

  Max, who she’d frantically texted “911 home invasion pls help” when the men had burst in. They’d told her and Kayla that they’d kill them if they called the police and she hadn’t been willing to take a chance that they were bluffing. But she’d needed to text someone, to try to get help somehow, and given that the men had said they were looking for Sebastian, she’d figured that his brother Max was as good a person as any. But it was more than that. Thinking she was going to die, the one person she’d thought of was Max.

  Max, who was her boss. Who was grumpy as hell. Who was so sexy that she often lost her train of thought around him. Not that he’d ever given any indication that he felt the same way about her. He most definitely hadn’t, making her insane crush on him completely one-sided, and therefore a little embarrassing.

  They drove in silence and as the seat warmer worked its magic, she felt some of the tension ease from her muscles, her trembling subsiding. He turned into a parking garage below an impressive building in SoHo, swiping a card he’d pulled from the center console for entry. When he parked, he pulled into a space reserved for the South Penthouse.

  “You’ll be safe here,” he said, his deep voice rubbing over her frayed nerves like silk. Even now, on the worst night of her life, her body was responding to him. Apparently her hormones or ovaries or whatever hadn’t gotten the message that she’d almost died tonight. That she should be thinking about other things besides Max.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, swallowing around the lump in her throat. All of her emotions were still right there, simmering under the surface. But as grateful as she was to Max—and Lucian—for coming to their rescue tonight, she didn’t want to break down in front of him. They were work colleagues and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. She knew her vulnerability would make him uncomfortable.

  He simply nodded then stepped out of the SUV. She moved to push her door open, but he beat her to it, opening it for her and then sliding an arm around her waist to help her down. She didn’t really need the support, but she wasn’t going to push him away. It felt far too good to have someone touch her. Physical contact was a comfort she was craving right now. His touch was reassuring. Strengthening, even.

  He guided her toward a sleek silver elevator in the corner, using yet another key card to call it. Sealed inside together, she was acutely aware of their size difference. She was 5’4 and he was almost a foot taller than her, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. She’d always been self-conscious about her size—no boobs, no hips, no ass, just a figure worthy of a twelve-year-old boy. On a good day, she told herself that she looked like Kate Moss. On a bad day, she used words like scrawny and bony. But with Max, she didn’t feel scrawny. There was something about how big he was that put her at ease. She liked the difference. Maybe because it made her feel safe. Maybe because it made her feel feminine.

  Not that it mattered.

  The elevator doors slid open and she sucked in a sharp gasp. Before her was a massive penthouse, the walls made up entirely of windows. The Tribeca skyline gleamed in the night, the lights of One World Trade Center shining right in the middle of it all. She could see the Hudson River and Canal Street, lights sparkling softly. Up here, surrounded by glass, it felt like the city was putting on a show, just for her.

  It was beautiful, and after the ugliness of the night, she could use a little beauty. Stepping out of the elevator, her eyes roved over the impressive space, taking in the sleek, high end furniture, designer kitchen, and clear staircase that was engineered to look like it was floating. It was minimalistic and pristine, like something out of a magazine or design show on TV. As gorgeous as it was, it didn’t look like anyone actually lived there.

  It was closed off, revealing nothing. Just like its owner.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” asked Max hesitantly from behind her. She turned and found him standing several feet away, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable with having her in his space. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Maybe she should’ve just stayed with Lucian instead of encroaching on Max’s space. She wondered if his offer had been a token gesture, not something she was supposed to agree to.

  “Um, some water would be good, thank you.” Her mouth and throat were dry, almost to the point of pain. He nodded and headed toward the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of expensive water imported from Iceland.

  She took the bottle from him and sank down onto the couch. Now that she was truly safe, out of harm’s way, an echo of the sheer terror she’d experienced passed through her, and her hands started to shake. She tried to get the cap off the bottle, but couldn’t seem to get her hands to cooperate.

  Max sat down beside her, perched on the edge of the couch, looking as though he was ready to leap away from her at any moment. Without asking, he took the bottle from her and opened it, then handed it back. She took a long drink, the cool water soothing her throat.

  “Mmm. Tastes very Nordic,” she said, trying to smile. Her cheek twitched and then fell. Nope. She didn’t have it in her right now.

  “Are you okay?” he asked and then closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, as though realizing what a stupid question that was.

  “Not really, no,” she said, staring out at the twinkling skyline until her eyes went unfocused and everything blurred. “I thought I was going to die.” Sh
e turned to face him, his intense blue eyes crashing into hers. “I thought I was going to die.” Her voice cracked and broke on the last syllable and the sobs she’d been holding back burst out of her. Her body shook with the force of them, her eyes burning with hot tears. She sucked in a shuddering breath and then Max wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

  Oh. Oh, God. Yes.

  He leaned back against the couch, taking her with him as he held her against his broad chest, one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head. She pressed her face into him, embarrassed that she was crying all over him but unable to stop and completely unwilling to pull away.

  His hand rubbed a soothing path up and down her back, his heartbeat steady against her cheek. Anchoring her. Comforting her. Gradually, the wave of fear and the tears subsided, leaving her feeling wrung out.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked once she’d calmed down, his voice rumbling in his chest and vibrating against her cheek.

  She looked up, and God, his face was right there. The furrowed brow, the sharp blue eyes, the lips and jaw that looked like a sculptor had spent years on them. The small cleft in his chin. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead, curling slightly. His dark brown hair was wavy and thick, but she suspected that it was actually curly and he tamed it.

  Just like he tamed and controlled everything in his life, it seemed.

  “I was so scared,” she whispered. “All I kept thinking about was the people I’d never get to see again—my brother, my parents, my friends—and everything I wanted to do with my life. I kept seeing the morbid headlines about the murder of two women in a home invasion. I felt angry at everything they were about to take from me. I…” She trailed off, not finishing her thought. She’d been about to say I fought so fucking hard to survive six years ago that it’s not fair to have it end like this. But he didn’t know about the cancer and what she’d been through. It wasn’t something she talked about, and it wasn’t like she and Max were friends. He was her boss, not her buddy.

  His gaze held hers, a pained expression on his face.

  “If you hadn’t come, I’d be dead.” She swallowed, fresh tears stinging her eyes. “I’d be dead.”

  “Willa,” he said, his voice low and rough. His mouth was pressed into a firm line, his nostrils flared. Seeking out more of the comfort he was offering, she laid her head on his chest again, timing her breaths with his heartbeat.

  “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you,” he said quietly after several moments. There was something about the tone of his voice that had her lifting her head.

  Their eyes locked, and her stomach flipped at the heat shining out at her from his gaze. “Willa,” he said again, sounding almost as though he were in pain. He lifted a hand, tracing his thumb along her jaw. “Willa.”

  Her heart beat wildly in her chest as his eyes dropped to her mouth. Another tremble coursed through her, but it wasn’t because of what she’d been through that night.

  It was because of what was about to happen.

  With agonizing slowness, he lowered his mouth to hers, pressing a gentle, almost chaste kiss to her lips. She held completely still, shocked that he was kissing her. But bigger than the shock was her desire. Her need. Her lust for this man who she’d thought didn’t feel anything at all for her. He pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on her mouth, and she knew that he was giving her the chance to push him away. To say no.

  When she didn’t, he lowered his face back down to hers, moving a little faster this time. When his lips touched hers, the hesitation was gone. This wasn’t a tentative kiss, not anymore. His lips were firm and warm against hers, and she sighed when he parted her lips with his tongue. The taste of him flooded her, almost overwhelming her. She’d wanted this for so long that now that it was happening, she felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath. That her heart was going to explode for how hard and fast it was pounding against her ribs.

  He groaned and deepened the kiss, and she wound her arms around him, curling her fingers in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. Each slide of his tongue against hers was like an electric shock, zapping through her and leaving her tingling. His palms roved restlessly up and down her back, and in that moment, all she knew was that she wanted Max. She’d wanted him since the first week she’d started working with him, and the wanting had only intensified. Max, with his chiseled features and thick, muscled body. Max, with his surliness designed to keep everyone at arm’s length. Max, who wielded pain and intelligence and ambition like a shield.

  She’d wanted him then, and she wanted him now. If anything, the terror of the night only made her want him even more than she had before.

  He broke the kiss suddenly, his hands cupping her face. His chest heaved as he sucked in air and he pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Max, I—”

  He pulled back and shook his head. “I’m an asshole. After what you’ve been through tonight, the last thing you need is me taking advantage of you. I’m sorry, Willa. Fuck.”

  She traced her fingertips over his jaw, his lips. His eyes fell closed as she touched him and he let out a shaky breath. He caught her fingers and lowered them to her lap.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sorry for kissing her, or sorry for stopping. She pressed a hand to his shoulder and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt him against her, hard and huge.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Please, Max. You’re not taking advantage. I don’t want you to stop. I need you. Please.”

  His nostrils flared as his palms slid up and down her back. She held still, giving him the chance to decide and hoping with everything she had that he wouldn’t push her away. She’d wanted him for months, and now that she’d had a taste, she needed more. So much more.

  “I can feel how much you want me,” she whispered, rocking her hips against him. His jaw went tight as the ridge of his cock pressed against where she was wet and throbbing for him. “Take me.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered, sliding one hand into her hair and kissing her, slow and deep. He kissed the way he seemed to do everything, with a focused intensity designed to get results. She melted into him, an ache setting up camp between her legs. She shifted, feeling her panties slide against her, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on.

  His tongue stroked against hers, making her stomach dip and swirl, making her skin feel hot and sensitive. God, could he kiss. It was as though he’d studied the manual for how she liked to be kissed and had memorized it. Every sweep of his tongue against hers, every slide of his lips, was perfection.

  Her fingers shook as she undid first one button of his shirt and then another, and then another, exposing a swath of skin, heavy with muscle and lightly dusted with dark brown hair. She undid another and he broke the kiss, sucking in a deep breath.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.

  She undid another button. “You, Max.” She forced herself to meet his piercing blue eyes, holding his gaze. “I’ve wanted you for a while, and after tonight I’m done pretending that I don’t.”

  2

  Max leaned forward and kissed Willa again, capturing her mouth with his, and then stood with her still in his lap. She felt like air in his arms, her legs wound around his waist. She pressed her face into his neck, savoring the solid warmth of him against her. She felt so incredibly tiny in his arms. So incredibly safe and sheltered. It was a feeling she wanted to chase tonight after everything she’d been through.

  She kissed his neck, his jaw, inhaling him deep into her lungs, a part of her still unable to believe this was actually happening. He started walking through his apartment, one big hand splayed across her back, the other on her ass, searing her through her clothes.
/>
  “Where are we going?” she asked. She knew. She just wanted to hear him say it. To prove that it was real.

  “My bedroom,” he rumbled out. “Not gonna fuck you on the couch, Willa.”

  She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and kissed his neck again, her heart a frantic hummingbird in her chest. Every nerve ending in her body felt alive. Felt hungry. And deep inside her, an ache had bloomed, throbbing and insistent. It wouldn’t go away until he was inside her, filling her up the way she’d been fantasizing about for months.

  They moved past the staircase and into a darkened hallway that apparently led to the master suite. The bedroom was dark, but there was enough light pouring in from the skyline that she could make out the king-sized bed facing the windows, could see the built-in bookshelves covering the far wall. The rest of the details were fuzzy though, because all she could focus on was Max. The feel of his body pressed to hers, the scent of his skin.

  He sank down onto the edge of the bed, still holding her in his lap. She leaned back just enough that she could pull her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her exposed to him. She hardly ever wore a bra, and when she did, it was basically as a nipple shield, not for any support.

  “Jesus,” he breathed, then kissed her again. With one arm banded around her waist, he slid his other hand up over her ribs and to her breast, skating the tips of his fingers over her nipple. She moaned and arched into his touch. He rolled her nipple between his fingers and she twitched on his lap, their kiss muffling her cry.