Page 9 of Daring the Bad Boy
“I shot her my address, and told her you’d be in touch in the morning,” he said, as if that made perfect sense. “I don’t want them to think I kidnapped you.”
The thoughtful gesture had the fissure opening up again, and the buzz sinking southwards – a dangerous combination of hotness and emotion. Wasn’t this the one thing Tash had warned her against?
Before she could overreact, he grasped her lapels again…. Or rather his lapels… And tugged her towards him.
“Now quit asking dumb questions.” Warm breath whispered across her ear, before he bit the lobe and sent sensation skittering.
She rasped her palms across the stubble on his jaw and thrust her fingers into silky hair to yank him the rest of the way down. She heard something that sounded like a growl rumble out of her throat. Or had that come from his throat?
Clamping her mouth to those sinfully sexy lips, she threw her leg over his lap, and settled her yearning clitoris against the bulge in his Levis, all thoughts of everything but riding the impressive ridge shooting straight out of her head and into the dark, dangerous London night.
Let’s hear it for Rosie the Super Slut, who is about to nail the hottest, dirtiest Valentine’s date of her life.
Chapter Three
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“Wow! This place is amazing.”
Cal leaned against the door of his apartment and smiled as Rosie the Hot Kisser swung round in a circle, then tilted to one side on her heels. He shot forward to catch her before she fell on her ass.
She grinned up at him, pressing her curves against his in sultry motion and swiveling her hips until she’d notched his confined cock against the apex of her thighs.
Oh, yeah. Just exactly there.
He skimmed his hands over her curves, then folded his arms round her waist to draw her close. Damn, he wanted nothing more than to forget about everything tonight and get lost in this beautiful woman. But as she stretched up on tiptoes and he lowered his head to take another glorious bite out of those lips, he got a close-up of her irises. Or rather the thin rim of blue-green that was left of them around her fully dilated pupils.
He pulled back. What had looked like lust in the cab now looked like something more troubling. “Rosie, how many of those fluorescent cocktails did you have back at the bar?”
She lifted four fingers. “Two.” She squinted at her fingers. “Three, maybe.”
Shit. She’s stoned.
His spirits plummeted, but the erection pressing against her belly refused to follow suit.
Forget it, buddy, you’re not get
ting laid tonight unless you can sober her up.
“How about I make us some coffee?”
She sent him a lopsided smile. “But I don’t want coffee. I want to explore all your delicious muscles.” She rolled her hips against his rampant cock again. “And the shotgun in your pants.”
Questing hands flattened against his chest, her fingers exploring his pecs and then spreading up to his shoulders. Her fingernails scraped across his nape and need tightened his ballsack.
“Let’s go straight to bed,” she murmured. “Do not pass go.”
He settled his palms on her hips. And edged her back an inch, despite the lurch of protest from the shotgun in his pants – which was about to lose both barrels. Then captured her marauding hands before they could pull the trigger.
“Coffee first,” he said. “Bed later.” But hopefully not too much later.
He directed her over to the couch, her delighted laughter echoing in his aching nuts – and gave her a gentle shove which had her toppling onto the cushions with a hiccup, all those delectable curves bouncing in unison.
Just kill me now.
He let out a heartfelt groan. If not taking advantage of this woman didn’t guarantee him a place in the good guy hall of fame for all eternity, nothing would.
“Can we have coffee in bed?” She slurred the words, her smile sweet but hopelessly crooked – crucifying him more. Then palmed her face, the clumsy caress pushing the wild curls back over her shoulders. “Actually, I do feel a little dizzy.”