Page 2 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Jess just wouldn't give up. She'd pestered me earlier in the week about going out with a couple of friends, but I kept putting her off. I was way behind on my lecture notes and needed to focus.
Me: Can't. 2 much 2 do. Have fun!
Before I tucked my phone away, Jess's response lit up the screen.
Jess: Robin's bday. 9pm be ready!
Nice touch. Of course, I'd have to go out if Jess made it all about birthday drinks.
Me: Fine. One hour!
Jess: We'll see about that!
I smiled to myself. Thank god for Jess and Robin. If left to my own devices, I'd probably only venture out of my apartment to travel the short distance back and forth to work.
We'd met at a happy hour hosted by the English Department a few years before. Someone had the bright idea to set up someparty games so the three of us teamed up and spent all night holding onto the Pictionary champion title.
Now we all had real jobs—Jess and I as adjunct professors and Robin working at a local insurance company. I rarely joined them on their weekend excursions, but sometimes appreciated the distraction from my class prep and self-imposed writing deadlines. Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights.
The bus slowed to a stop on the corner by my complex and I filed off behind a handful of students. I'd lived in my apartment for just over a year, but still didn't recognize any of my neighbors.
Unfortunately, with a desire to live close to campus, I had to pick from the complexes that appealed to many of the undergrads. I kept to myself, avoiding the raging keggers and late-night parking lot parties that took place most weekends. Partying wasn't really my style. I'd rather spend my evenings getting my reading done or dreaming up steamy scenes for the erotic romance novels I penned.
I unlocked the apartment door and set down my backpack. Mr. Darcy wound around my legs then hopped onto the kitchen table. Nudging his head into my stomach, he prompted me to run a hand along his silky back.
"You're not supposed to be up here." I slid a hand underneath his belly and lifted him up so he could nuzzle the top of his head under my chin. He rumbled a purr of satisfaction, then leapt to the ground and sashayed over to the couch where he took up the never-ending task of grooming his unruly fur.
I tossed the baseball cap onto the counter and unzipped my bag. My hand closed around the books I'd picked up at the library. My interest was piqued about what exactly the Lotus Blossom entailed, so I flipped through the pages, past images of couples, trios, and entire groups of men and women engaged in various acts of pleasure.
As my gaze scanned over the intricate illustration of the position in question, warm tingles marched down my cheeks, flushed my neck, and made color bloom on my chest. The Lotus Blossom itself wasn't so shocking. I'd written about experiences much more risque than that.
But my breath hitched as I pictured the dark-haired, mass of man from the sidewalk and what he might look like sitting cross-legged and bare-assed underneath me.
CHAPTER 2
Dante
If that woman’scheeks had turned any redder, she might have spontaneously combusted on the sidewalk right in front of me. I smiled as I shifted the briefcase to my other hand. I’d enjoyed teasing her a bit. Probably more than I should have. But she’d been so embarrassed, it had been too easy to make her blush.
I shook the vision of her out of my head. Too bad I hadn’t caught her name. It might be fun to follow up with her and find out what she thought of her new reading material.
I passed the entrance to the library and turned the corner, making my way toward the riverfront a few blocks down. I didn’t mind the short walk from my office to my apartment, especially at this time of year. I’d lived in northern Indiana all my life, and fall could be a fickle season in the upper Midwest. May as well get the fresh air before the snow started to fly.
As my shoes thudded on the sidewalk, my thoughts turned back to the blushing redhead. Women’s studies, really? Throughout my undergrad program and into grad school, I’d never heard of the Kama Sutra being required reading material, especially at a conservative school like Tempest. I’d onlybecome familiar with the position during a weekend fling with a particularly limber yoga instructor. My lips twitched at the memory of exactly how flexible she’d been.
I ducked into a doorway and pulled on the large brass handle of a massive wooden door. It had been a while since I’d seen any action. Newbridge was pretty much a college town and tended to shut down over the summer. Now that classes had started up again, Tapped ought to be hopping.
I’d only been working at the bar for a couple of weeks. Maybe during my shift tonight, I’d try out a few lines on one of the eager female grad students. They always seemed to be making eyes at me and leaning over the bar to ask for a free drink—one of the few perks of my new part-time gig.
“Hey, Dante. Can you stock the cooler and help me switch out a couple of kegs?” Wyatt, the owner, stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, a half apron with the Tapped logo on it tied around his waist.
We were both from the same small town of Hinkley, Indiana. Wyatt had been a couple of years ahead of me in high school. Now he and his new wife, Lindsey, had made the move to Newbridge to try their luck with the bar.
“Just let me run up and change.” I cruised through the empty high-top tables to the staircase in back.
Tapped had barely been open a month. I’d lucked out when Wyatt offered me the job. Located a little farther from campus in the riverfront warehouse area of downtown Newbridge, Tapped drew more of the grad student crowd as opposed to the car-less, beer-sloshing, sloppy-drunk undergrads.
The fact that Wyatt discounted my rent on the second-floor apartment in exchange for working the late-night shifts had been the primary attraction of the gig. Although, the ability to get a head start on my massive student loans ran a close second.
