Page 9 of The Best Kind of Bad

For a brief moment, I indulge in the fantasy that the song is about us.

He places my hand on his shoulder and slips both hands around my waist. I’m already resting my head on his chest, but those strong hands pull me closer, fusing our hips together. Sometimes, it takes a few seconds to find a common rhythm, but we’re instantly in step. I like the way his jeans and hips feel against the thin fabric of my skirt. Hard and powerful against my soft tummy. And I am melting, fitting into the hard edges of his body.

I’ve got that cagey feeling, that understanding that this isn’t going to stop at a few kisses.

It won’t be over until we’ve taken things to the edge and sailed right over. It feels inevitable and a greedy hunger is growing in me. I want more from him.

What’s it going to take to get this guy to kiss me?

Turns out, all I had to do was tip my head.

I tilt my chin, glancing up at him through fanned eyelashes, and he’s waiting to bend down. His lips brush against mine. A gentle question.

I answer him by sliding my hands over his chest and fisting his shirt in my fingers. His hands splay across my back, dragging me ever closer, and his lips press into mine.

The touch sends a strange, shimmering feeling through me, and I make a small sound of surprise in my throat that only seems to entice him. He draws his tongue along my lower lip, tasting it, savoring it. I part my lips for him, and he delves inside, taking his time.

No one has ever kissed me like this.

Like it’s the main event.

Like my mouth is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

His tongue sails deeper, gliding along mine, gentle but commanding.

Those hips press into my belly, and I feel a not-so-subtle bulge pressing against his jeans.

It’s a good thing he has such a strong hold on my hips because I’m losing control of my knees. Lust, like a bewitching spell, fills my body from the place where my fingertips graze his shoulders right down to my toes.

I can’t decide what I like better, the way he’s possessing my mouth, or the way he holds me firmly to his body. He’s a take charge kind of guy and I love it. I don’t have to worry about what comes next or where I need to put my hands, because he’s the kind of guy who knows how to lead.

7.

Dusty

I’ve kissed a girl or two over the years.

Usually, a kiss is just a means to an end. My mind is usually elsewhere, wondering how I can get to the next base.

But this.

This is blowing my mind. Her mouth is like a peach, sweet and plump. I’m fascinated by her, by this connection. Completely enthralled. So when she breaks the kiss, I can’t quite keep the growl from rumbling in my throat.

She gives me a wild-eyed look. “Can we go somewhere?”

Judas fuck. I hadn’t even considered I could have more. If kissing her is already lighting me up like this, she might just burn me to the ground.

I would gladly hand her the matches.

“I live about five minutes away.”

She shakes her head, fingers tightening in my t-shirt. “Closer.”

A zing of adrenaline, kind of like I used to get on game days, surges through my body. “Tia’s office?”

She gives me that same sly smile she gave me when I first saw her and nods her head. Taking her by the hand, I push through the swinging doors at the back of the bar.

Tia’s office is just off the kitchen. Maybe I shouldn’t know where this is, but Tia has given me an unwarranted amount of trust over the years. I don’t mind helping her here and there, and she doesn’t mind overlooking my occasional drunken benders.

---