Page 50 of Betting on the Bad Boy
“No, that’s okay.”
“Chur. He’ll be gutted he missed you. You’ll come back to visit me again, aye?”
I nodded and pushed back from the bar and made a beeline for the door. It was a mistake to come here in the first place. What did I hope to accomplish with this little visit? As I walked back to my car, I noticed a guy heading toward me on the sidewalk. I looked down at the pavement as he passed.
“Faith?”
My head whipped up, and we made eye contact. Those damn eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Dante asked.
“I was looking for you. The bartender said you weren’t around.”
“You must have met Oliver. He’s new. I only catch about half of what he says. I was just on my way back from campus. Come on up.” He made a move toward the staircase leading up to his apartment.
I took a deep breath. Now or never. My feet clattered up the steps behind him.
He led me into the room and set his backpack down on the floor. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” Being so close to him, I couldn’t breathe.
“What’s up with you? You told me you could handle things. Then you just walk away?”
“I shouldn’t have come.” I backed toward the door.
Dante’s boots clomped across the room, and he slapped a palm to the door next to my head, leaning in and preventing me from leaving. “What do you want, Faith?”
His breath tickled my ear. My nipples tingled. Good question. What did I want from him? Sex. Inspiration for my book. But every time I got near him, my thoughts jumbled, my nerves jangled, and I lost all access to rational judgment.
My hands went to his chest. “I want to try again.”
He traced the line of my cheekbone, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.
“I don’t know what that even means,” Dante whispered, his lips barely brushing my earlobe.
Fisting his shirt in my hands, I pulled him away from the door and toward the couch. “It means I want to feel you.” I nudged him backwards. “Inside me.”
Dante
As I fell backagainst the cushion, I pulled her down on top of me. I should say no. Tell her to get the hell out and leave me the fuck alone. She’d already invaded my mind. Every night I fell asleep thinking about how she felt underneath me. When I woke up, images of her teasing smile danced across the inside of my eyelids before I opened my eyes. Fuck, I’d jerked off so many times picturing the way she’d bent over in the elevator—I was surprised my cock was still attached.
As Faith’s tongue traced the shell of my ear, my hands slid under her shirt and released the clasp of her bra. She moaned and shifted on my lap. My fingers skimmed over the soft skin of her ribcage.
“So, you want to give it another shot?” I asked.
“Yeah, if you’re up for it.”
I pressed my erection into her crotch. “I’m up for it all right. But we’re going to play by my rules this time.”
She rubbed against me. “What rules?”
My fingers darted underneath the waistband of her jeans. “You don’t spook if I say more than a couple of words to you.”
“Mmm.” Her mouth nestled against my neck.
“And you can’t just walk out on me again. I’m gonna need access to you at least twice a week.”
“But only for sex. Not like hanging out or anything.”
