Page 25 of Betting on the Bad Boy
One look from him could make my blood pressure spike, my heart pound, and my head spin. But I never, ever, lost myself like that. Seriously, in a car? What was I, seventeen again, parked in front of my mom’s house? What if one of my students had seen me? With my luck, they’d shoot a video and post it all over social media.
I peered through a slit in the shades to scan the parking lot. Dante must have needed a moment to compose himself since his car still sat in the spot in front of my apartment. I jerked my hand away from the window. What if he thought I was spying on him?
Oh hell. He was probably used to this kind of thing. What was it Murph had said about him at the gym? He worked at a bar and most likely had his choice of one-night stands. I took a final deep breath, denying the urge to peek outside one last time. Who cared what Dante Bishop thought of me anyway?
But those fingers. And the feel of his mouth on my neck. Even recalling it now made me tingle in places where I hadn’t felt any sensation for months. I didn’t have time for tingles and botched hook-ups. I needed a cool shower, maybe even a cold one. Then I’d be able to forget all about Dante and his amazing touch.
Mr. Darcy wound around my feet.
“Hi baby.” I leaned down to ruffle the fur behind his ears. “Mama was a bad girl tonight.” Mr. Darcy purred. “Yeah, I was purring, too. But I won’t let that happen again.”
I stood and untied the red cape from around my neck. Back to work. I’d cool off with a shower then take advantage of my recent experience and channel any leftover desire into my book.
As I walked back to the bathroom, I stripped down, ready to wash every last thought of Dante Bishop right down the drain.
CHAPTER 14
Dante
I madeanother loop around the fourteenth floor of the library. I was supposed to be meeting with my team to work on our group project, but I’d been trying to connect with Faith for the past two weeks to apologize for how I’d handled our intimate encounter.
Even though she seemed to like to study on this floor, I couldn’t find her in any of the private study carrels. I’d cruised through a few times I’d been on campus, looking for her. Why should I even give a fuck? It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.
But still, I was embarrassed as hell at how I’d blown things and hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind. I’d even driven by her apartment a few times. When I ran into Jess at the student center on my way over, she said Faith would probably be at the library now. That’s why I’d grabbed the damn rose from the little floral shop and now paced up and down the halls like a crazed stalker.
I turned the corner and saw Brittany, Bethany, and Bailey sitting at their usual table. “Hey.” I set my books down at one end and claimed my spot.
“Hi, Dante,” said Brittany. “Who’s the flower for?”
“Nobody. I, um, I just found it.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned back in her chair and toyed with her pen, running it along her painted pink bottom lip while she watched me from under heavily made-up eyelids.
“Yep. Here, you can have it.” I tossed the rose at Brittany. It skidded across the table and came to a stop right in front of her. The damn rose had been a stupid idea. I thought it would make a good peace offering, but fuck it. If Faith didn’t want to be found, there were plenty of other women whowouldwant to talk to me. And probably do much more.
“Wow, thanks. I can’t remember the last time a guy gave me flowers.”
“Yeah, well, it’s notflowers, it’s just one, and I didn’t exactly give it to you.”
“Still”—one side of her mouth lifted up in a seductive grin and she raised her eyebrows at me—“roses are the flower of love.”
“Give me a freaking break,” Bailey said. “Can we get back to work?”
“Gladly.” I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of my chair. I sat down and for the next hour, the three of us argued about how to allocate the marketing budget for the Sashay Salon. After much discussion, we finally came to an agreement and hashed out a plan.
“I think Tameka will be happy with this.” I flipped the cover of my laptop down and shoved it in my bag. “Same time next Wednesday?”
“I can’t make it next week,” said Bethany. “That’s the day before Thanksgiving. I’ll be lounging on the beach with my own cabana boy bringing me piña coladas.”
“Oooh, Mexico?” Bailey slid her notebook into her messenger bag.
“Yep.” A dreamy smile played on Bethany’s face. “The folks are flying us all down. Next time you see me I’ll be sporting a tan. Eat your hearts out, ladies.”
“I won’t be here either,” said Bailey. “Can we hold off until the week after?”
“Sure. We can get together when everyone’s back in town. How does that sound?” I stood and pushed my chair up against the table.
“Sounds good to me.” Brittany shrugged into her puffy pink coat. “Aren’t you heading home for Thanksgiving, Dante?”
