Page 40 of Betting on the Bad Boy
“You smell so good.” His hands cradled my head, tilting my face up to press his lips to mine.
The blare from the television’s weather alert system pulled my attention away from the amazing things he was doing with his tongue.
“This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System…”
I snatched the throw pillow and thumped it against his side. “Get off me. We can’t do this—not in your Meemaw’s house,” I hissed. For crying out loud, the man had no shame.
He defended himself against the pillow, his laughs muffled. “I’m just sayin’, she’s a heavy sleeper. She wouldn’t hear a thing.”
I stole the remote and continued to channel surf, finally settling onIt’s A Wonderful Life.
“Okay, I give. If you’d rather hang out watching Jimmy Stewart make a play for Donna Reed than play with me...” Dante leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.
There was nothing I’d rather do in that moment than follow the trail of desire between us to see where it would lead. Whipped cream was just the beginning. I could imagine an entire night full of kissing and licking and touching and squeezing and tasting and…grrrrrrr.
I clamped my arms over my midsection and tried to focus on the movie playing out on the screen. No matter what I did, I couldn’t avoid the undercurrent of awareness of the hard mass of muscle to my left.
Dismissing the urge to glance his way, I kept my eyes trained on the TV in front of me. Mary flirted with George Bailey at the school dance as the first sparks of romance ignited between them. Every part of me hummed, acutely aware of Dante’s presence just a few feet away. How in the world had I ended up here, in this room, with him?
His eyes rested half-closed, and he looked like he was falling asleep. He sighed, and his chest rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm. I wanted to lean over, bridge the distance between us, and put my head on his shoulder. His gray t-shirt stretched tight over his frame, and I could see the outline of his pecs underneath. My body remembered how it felt to be trapped under his weight in the car. Every last part of me ached to reach out and touch him, but I resisted.
Dante’s head slumped down on his chest and his breathing deepened. I took off his glasses and set them down on the table. Without his glasses on, he looked so vulnerable. Long lashesbrushed his cheeks and I let my gaze wander over his nose, his lips, and the stubble over his upper lip, committing his face to memory.
As George and Mary clung together on the screen, I sat back on my cushion and struggled to keep myself from wrapping myself in Dante’s arms.
CHAPTER 22
Dante
I openedmy eyes and couldn’t figure out where I was for a moment. The light from the TV reflected off the walls of the living room. Meemaw’s. That’s right, I was at Meemaw’s.
I became intensely aware of a warm body snuggled up against me. I was on my back, stretched out the full length of the couch. Faith’s head rested on my abs, her head just inches away from the one part of my anatomy that appeared to already be fully awake. Crap. Just being around her got me hard. The more I tried to mentally squash my desire, the more my body reacted on its own.
I shifted on the couch in an attempt to ease out from underneath her. Her body rolled slightly, and I wrapped my arm around her back before she slid to the floor. She gave a little moan in her sleep and burrowed deeper into my side. Her hand came up to rest under her cheek, with her forearm right on my crotch.
Hell. I ran through the starting line-up of the Colts in my head. Recited every NASDAQ symbol I could remember. It wasn’t working. Her arm moved again, brushing against myhard-on.Hold it together, Bishop.She threw a leg over mine and ran her hand over my chest.
“Faith?” I whispered.
“Mmm.”
“You awake?”
Her eyes blinked open. “What? Where am I?” She scrambled to sit up, but her legs were tangled in mine.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She propped herself up on an elbow and looked up at me. “What happened?”
“You fell asleep.” I’d wanted to push that strand of hair back all day. I finally let myself brush it off her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“I’m sorry. Oh, I must be crushing you.” She dragged her legs out from in between mine and stood up.
“It’s all right. I kind of like it.” I shifted to a seated position, took her hand, and pulled her back down on the couch next to me. She was rocking that sexy, bed-head, mussed up look and all I wanted was to pin her to the couch and fuck some sense into her.
I pressed her hand to my crotch. “Can you feel what you do to me? We can be quiet. Do you want to?”
“We’re in your grandmother’s living room,” she whispered. Her head turned and our lips accidentally brushed. My mouth pressed down on hers and I leaned into her. I wasn’t imagining it. She was kissing me back. As I buried my hands in her hair, her tongue responded to mine. I pressed my mouth to her neck, trailing kisses from her collarbone up to her earlobe.
