Page 93 of Betting on the Bad Boy
“Okay, just a sec.”
She barely had time to untie me. Released from my restraints, I flipped her over onto her back. “Your turn.”
CHAPTER 46
Faith
I was thrilledat how the tie-up experiment had gone. I’d been meaning to try it out to make sure I’d captured the right movements and sequence of events in the scene I’d been playing out in my head. I only had a couple more chapters to go, and Dante’s reaction proved I’d gotten it right when my fictional Dante and Faith tried it out in my book. I hadn’t counted on this turn of events, though. Seemed like Dante wanted to give as well as receive.
I let him fasten one arm to the post, then the other. I even moved my legs to make it easier for him.
Dante paused beside the bed. I smiled up at him, delicious anticipation coursing through my veins. But instead of kneeling down and racking my body with pleasure, he leaned down and grabbed his jeans. Wait a minute. He wasn’t leaving, was he?
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You had your turn.” He slid a leg into his pants. “Now it’s mine.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“No buts.” He tugged his jeans up over his hips and sat down near the foot of the bed. “Since I can’t get you to talk about us, I figured I’d take this opportunity to force a conversation.”
I groaned. “Dante, there is no us. I’ve been perfectly clear about that. We both agreed, no strings.”
He wrapped his large, capable hands around my foot and dug his thumb into the instep. Wow, that felt good. Not as good as if he’d been rubbing another part of my anatomy, but I’d play along with him... at least for the time being.
“Is the pressure okay?”
“Yeah, that feels great. Although, I’d feel better if you used your skills about three feet higher on my body.”
Grinning, he continued to work on my foot. “Patience. So about us?—”
“No. I’m not taking part in this conversation.”
He moved his attention to my other foot. “Then I’ll talk, you listen.”
I closed my eyes, not that he’d be able to tell in the inky darkness, but it was the only act of defiance available to me in my current compromised position.
“Who are the flowers from?”
His thumbs circled my heel. Holy guacamole, he had great hands. “What flowers?”
“The roses sitting on your table. Are you seeing someone?”
My mouth went dry, and I eyed the outline of the bottle of water on my nightstand. “Of course not. They’re from a friend.”
“You’re the one who’s been teaching me about the symbolism of flowers, remember? Pretty sure red roses aren’t for friendship.”
“They’re no big deal. Some guy my mom’s pushing on me sent them. He’s all the way out in California.”
“So, youareseeing someone else?”
My stomach started to tighten. “I’m not even seeing you. I told you, I don’t date.”
“This guy out west, he’s mom-approved?”
Dammit, I’d meant to hand the flowers off to Jess before he saw them. I’d told Carter I wasn’t interested, tried to let him down easy. It wasn’t my fault he sent me some dumb flowers. Okay, gorgeous flowers. Now Dante’s nose was all out of joint, but the flowers didn’t mean a thing. He was the one I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with, even though I couldn’t admit it to him.
“My mom thought we’d hit it off. We didn’t. No big deal.”
