Infamous: (A Bad Boy Romantic Suspense) by Mila Noir Read Free Book Online Page A

with contempt, or the way he’d caught himself looking at her soft, sweet lips and wondering what they’d feel like under his.
    But mostly what Anton wanted to forget was that he was who he was and had done the things he’d done.
    You can’t escape yourself, though. And he knew it.

***
    Taylor drove back to the hotel with the window open, the cold air keeping her overly hot face from catching fire. Or that’s what it felt like. She was still shaking from her run-in with Anton, and her stomach felt wobbly.
    She wasn’t sure how she’d pictured running into him again. Maybe she’d always avoided even considering the possibility. She’d certainly avoided it while driving up to Sweethollow, convincing herself he was long gone and couldn’t possibly still be around. Well, that had blown up spectacularly.
    Consequently, she wasn’t at all prepared for the onslaught of emotions she was currently feeling. Was she angry? Scared? Tired? Excited? Hungry? A million things spun around her head, memories, conversations she’d rather not relive. And, of course, this recent scene outside the bar. That had been…stressful. She’d wanted to project a kind of nonchalance, like she just didn’t think about him and hadn’t in years. And instead, with the slightest provocation, she was basically insulting him like a schoolgirl whose pigtails had been pulled. Real mature.
    She pulled into the lot by the hotel and put her forehead against the steering wheel.
    “Damn,” she muttered.
    She’d hoped, she realized, that if she ever did run into Anton again he’d have gone the way of the Saints. Paunchy, shrunken somehow, meaner and looking older than their years. Once their youth had gone, they weren’t even conventionally good-looking any more.
    But Anton. Whew. He was definitely still beautiful. More so, even. The years had given him more of an edge, strengthened some of the softness, almost prettiness of his teen looks. He’d clearly kept in excellent shape. And he carried himself differently. Probably because his awful father was gone and there wasn’t anyone who was going to try to hurt him anymore.
    And those eyes. She’d forgotten how riveting they were. Like chips of ice at first. Cold and distance, with glaciers behind them you could never touch. But then, when you got to know him? Warm blue waters of the Caribbean fringed with lashes so dark and thick they were like birds’ wings.
    She’d looked at those eyes for hours, it seemed, in school. When he wasn’t looking, of course. Not that anyone would have noticed her back then. Not in a good way, anyway. But sometimes he’d been nice. Friendly, even. They’d chatted when no one else was around. She’d listened to him and he’d opened up a few times. She’d even thought a few times that…well…it didn’t matter now and it was stupid then.
    Which was one of the reasons why what had happened between them had hurt so much. She’d thought he was different. But he’d turned out to be just like everyone else. Maybe worse, because she’d allowed herself to trust him and he’d exploited it.
    She made her way back inside, suddenly utterly exhausted. It would have been nice to pretend it was the drive and all the prep she was going to need to do for her story. But it was Anton, of course. It was hard enough being in Sweethollow with the good memories of Grams and the bad memories of just about everything else. But to have been confronted with her worst memory, in the flesh, her first night?
    Taylor crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head, not bothering to even take off her boots or jacket. She curled up like a child, hugging her knees. She wished her grams was there now, to stroke her hair, sing her a lullaby, or offer a treat. She could really go for some pie right about now.
    She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Was all of this worth it for a story? Was she really going to get what she wanted out of this and keep her emotions in check?