Page 33 of Bad Boy in Her Bed

“Have I told you how I think hot tortured artists are?”she retorted, pointedly grabbing his hand and marching them to a back booth.

“Tortured artist,” he scoffed as they sat.“I’m hardly tortured and I’m barely an artist.”

“The tattoo on my leg says otherwise.”Opening the bistro menu, she perused it for a moment before setting it on the edge of the table.“Are you going to tell me the meaning behind it now or will I need to drag it out of you later?”

Scanning his own menu, he felt his shoulders hunch defensively.“Maybe we can save the heavier stuff for later.”

“Then let’s keep it light,” she said, her toe inching up his calf muscle and along his thigh, the thin point of her stiletto heel coming to rest just under his balls.When his eyes widened, his dick hardening under the pressure of the sole of her shoe, she smirked.“Light enough?”

Chapter Fifteen

Jocelyn took anotherbite of her pasta and smiled sweetly at Birch, enjoying the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he tried to balance his fragile focus between his meal and their conversation.“You said you started doing tattoos when you were in high school.What was the first one you did?”

He swallowed, a faint flush on his cheeks as his eyes dipped down to his crotch where her foot continued to rest between his thighs.“It was a, um, a lightning bolt.A really crappy lightning bolt.”

“And who was your first victim?”

“It was, uh, Winter.”

Smiling, she wiggled her toes.“Are you ready to spill about this piece yet?”

“Nope.”

She knew he was avoiding any discussion about the art on her leg, the imprisoned house a dark replica of his own.There was no mistaking the small scar the hand on her tattoo had, its match on her own.It was the remnant from her childhood, when she was eleven and sliced herself on an exposed nail on her deck railing.

She kept her prodding light and easy.She didn’t need him to tell her about it, because the piece spoke for itself.And it simultaneously warmed and upset her.

He shifted his hips slightly, his eyes blazing when the movement pressed his erection tighter to her foot.Setting his fork down, he pushed his plate aside and placed his elbows on the table.“Speaking of victims, are you trying to tease me to death?”

“It’s not teasing if there’s follow-through,” she said, taking her time with her own meal.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his muscled forearms tight as he clasped his hands and zeroed in on her lips.“Jocelyn.”

“Birch.”

They entered a heated stare down, his breathing becoming more labored while she focused on the mix of lust and uncertainty in his eyes.Without looking away, he licked his lips and inhaled sharply.“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

Matching his pose, she leaned in.“I could ask you the same question.”

He let out a low chuckle and shoved a hand through his hair.“You’re fucking with me, right?I mean, look at you.You’re—” He gestured at her, the concerted effort he was putting into find his words totally endearing.“You’re wow.Wow and holy shit and goddamn and perfect.”

Memories of sweet lies whispered by her snake of an ex slithered through her thoughts and she reached over the table to take his hand, sliding her foot from between his legs to the floor.“Birch, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

The uncertainty flared up in his gaze but he nodded.“You know I will be.”

“What do you stand to gain by sleeping with me?”

He opened his mouth for a moment before snapping it shut with a frown while he considered her question.“You, I hope,” he said slowly, his shoulders hunching as they always did when he opened up to her.“For as long as you’ll let me.As long as you’re around.Which I’m thinking won’t be nearly long enough for me, but beggars not choosers, right?”

Satisfied with his answer, she motioned for the server to bring the check.“Ready to show off your professionalism again?”

*

Birch snatched hishand away from the smooth expanse of Jocelyn’s bare back and willed it to stop trembling so he could finish the exquisite torture he was subjecting himself to.

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