Page 63 of The Bad Girl

After a minute of the sad performance, Eliza puts a hand to her forehead, staggers away, and grabs some water.

Well played.

“I’m sending ya back down one at a time. Use the bathroom, then go to your cabins.”

“What about Mike?” Maxwell asks in a flat tone.

“Don’t you worry about Mike. Miguel,” he motions over to the bartender, “will help me with him. We’ll get him good and comfortable.”

Lady Elaine is sent down first, then me a minute after. I go to the bathroom, then enter our cabin, waiting five long minutes for Maxwell to come through the door.

I rush into his arms, which encircle me, pulling me in close as he nuzzles the nape of my neck.

“I’m scared,” I confess.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. If he wanted to, he could have killed us. Instead, he fed us and is sending us to bed for the night.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s afraid, and he has good reason to be. I think he’s just trying to come up with a plan.”

“Doesn’t he realize kidnapping a bunch of rich people is going to garner some attention?”

“Not as much as you’d think. I was supposed to attend a gala tonight, but I suspect it was canceled shortly after news emerged that the guest of honor was involved in some illegal endeavors. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ve brought him into custody by now, but without my phone, I’m in the dark. Eventually, security will take notice that I haven’t checked in, but I’m not sure they’ll know where to look for me. Lady Elaine lives life to the fullest, so people will suspect she’s storming the town. Harlow will be missed, but I doubt it’ll get reported. His wife will assume he’s preoccupied in some hotel room with a woman half his age, and she’ll be relieved she’s not the one he’s sweating all over.”

I look at the bed, the remnants of our lovemaking clearly evident. “Well, we might as well get some sleep.”

“You get some sleep, I’ll stand guard.”

“I was sleeping all afternoon, you weren’t. Now, lie down. You said so yourself, if he wanted to kill us, we’d be dead, and you’re no good to us exhausted.”

Maxwell hesitates.

“This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

“The truth is, I’ve barely gotten any sleep this week, and you left me quite exhausted.”

My cheeks flush red, and it takes considerable effort not to divert my gaze.

You are a bad girl. Bad girls own their conquests.

“Plus, the crash from the fight or flight hormones has me dead on my feet.”

“Let’s get the desk in front of the door.”

After we reposition the furniture, Maxwell undresses and collapses onto the bed, bidding me into his arms.

I crawl into bed with him, snuggling into his nook. He brings the blanket up to cover us and kisses me lightly on the forehead. It’s unexpected and deeply intimate, and for some reason, it leaves me jarred.

Falling for my boss, no matter how good he is in bed—and holy FUCK is he gifted with a skillful set of appendages—is never advisable. It’s almost as dumb as sleeping with him.

But as I lay next to him, feeling his chest rise and fall against me, I realize logic isn’t going to help me here.