Page 24 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“Thanks, Mom. I’m happy to be home.” And I meant it, too.
Oliver moved his arm to the back of my chair. He may not have meant it as a sign of having my back, but that’s how I took it.
“James does bring up an interesting point.” Dad picked up his wine glass. “We need to schedule some time to sit down and talk about your grandmother’s trust.”
I nodded. Now wasn’t the time to fill him in on the plans I’d already set in motion. “Of course. I’ll give you a call to set that up. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Oliver has another engagement.”
His hand fell from the back of my chair as I pushed away from the table.
“So soon?” Mom made a move to stand.
“Don’t get up. Sorry we can’t stay longer.” I walked around the table to give her a hug.
“But you haven’t had dessert yet.”
“I’ll box some up in the kitchen, okay?”
She nodded. I grabbed Oliver by the hand and exited the room, a chorus of “goodbyes” and “nice to meet you’s” trailing behind us.
“What the hell? I didn’t even get to finish my lamb.” Oliver stopped just inside the kitchen.
“I’ll get you a to-go box. Sorry, I knew it would be awkward, but I didn’t count on my brother to be such a dick.” I stepped to the kitchen island and ducked down to find a takeout container in the cabinet underneath.
“What’s really going on?” Oliver squatted down next to me.
I fumbled with the tower of plastic containers, trying to find one with a matching lid. “It’s no big deal. Thanks for being a distraction. I got bonus points for coming to dinner and you’re going to have enough lamb for a week.”
His hand closed around mine. “That’s not what I meant. What’s this talk about your trust and your grandmother? Why does your brother seem so pissed?”
I stood, sliding my hand out of his grip. “None of your business, okay?”
Oliver pulled me into him as he stood next to me. “You can’t expect me to suffer through a family dinner and have no idea what everyone’s talking about.”
“Suffer? Is that what you did out there?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, sliding my hands into the back pockets of his pants. The contours of his ass felt like solid rock under my palms. He wasn’t my type. I kept reminding myself of that every time he touched me. But every time he touched me it just made me want him more. “Poor baby, I didn’t realize it would be so hard for you.”
His palm splayed across my back, drawing me closer as he turned me slightly, putting my back against the counter.
“What kind of a game are you playing?”
My pulse kicked up, the blood thundering through my ears as the length of his body pressed against mine. “It’s not a game. I’m just trying to get settled. I think maybe I’ve finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.”
He slid a finger over my shoulder, nudging some escaped tendrils away from my neck. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded, my skin blazing where he’d touched me.
His head dipped down, his mouth connecting with my neck. “Tell me, what do you want to be then?”
Yours.
The thought popped into my head then vanished just as fast. I cleared my throat, put my palms on his chest and pushed. “We need to go.”
I scooped enough leftovers into the plastic container to last Oliver several days. Then tucked it into a bag so I could hold onto it on the bike behind him.
“That’s it?” He followed me out the back door, past where the hired staff cleaned up what remained of my family’s pre-dinner get-together.
I strode down the driveway, finally stopping when I reached the motorcycle parked at the curb. “I shouldn’t have come. Can we get out of here?”
He took a long look at me. The heat of his gaze traveled over me, searing my skin, even though I refused to look up to meet his eyes.
