Page 54 of No More Bad Boys
“I just mean it’s not something that was in your control. And you’re wrong, by the way—I didn’t grow up wealthy. We might havelivedlike we were, with a fancy house and cars and country club membership and all that, but it was all an illusion. You know I don’t have a car now, right? My parents always leased our cars, and when their financial house of cards fell down a few months ago, we had to turn them all in. My parents share a car now and live like misers, trying to pay off the mountain of debt they accrued buying stuff they couldn’t afford. And I’m working my way through school with the help of a couple of grants and my paid internships. I’d be homeless if it weren’t for Kenley paying most of our rent.”
Blake huffs a humorless laugh. “I know youthinkyou know how it feels, and you’re really sweet to try to ‘out’ yourself aspoor, but… well, I guess you just have to have lived it to really get what I’m talking about. Even I start to forget what it was like. I don’t like remembering those days. But Ineedto. You asked about my tattoo before. That’s what it’s about. It’s the Chinese symbol for abundance and prosperity. It’s a reminder that I came from just the opposite—that the only thing standing between me andthatis hard work.”
His words give me a slight chill. They’re an awful lot like the things Momma said, trying to excuse her bad behavior because she grew up with very little money and no father.
But then again when I think about it, Blake’s response to abject childhood poverty is completely different from my mother’s.
While she turned into a wild spender and even wilder storyteller, he became an ambitious hard-worker.
And he just told me thetruth, though he’s clearly ashamed of it.
Thatkind of risk-taking deserves a reward.
Getting up from my chair, I slip around the table and stand in front of Blake.
He scoots his chair out, beginning to stand, but I put my hand on his chest and push him gently back into his seat. He draws in a sharp breath.
“Take off your shirt,” I order.
The haunted expression on his face disappears, morphing into a hungry look that has nothing to do with his unfinished dinner.
Grasping the bottom edge of his t-shirt, he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the tattoo along with all those fascinating muscles I remember from the aquarium shoot.
He sits back in the chair, his eyes heavy-lidded and pleasure-glazed as he allows me to take in the impressive sight of him. I reach for him.
His chest begins to rise and fall noticeably when I run my fingertips across it and along the intricate circular design inked there.
Heart racing, I climb onto his lap, straddling it, putting us face-to-face.
“Thank you for your honesty.” I lean in close, letting my lips brush his as I whisper, “I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Mmmm,” he nods, responding to the touch of my mouth by leaning forward and trying to kiss me.
I pull back before it becomes a full-on kiss because I have something else to say. “And now,” I announce, “it makes sense to be with you.”
Blake gives me a smoldering grin. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
He slides a hand behind my neck while the other scoops my bottom, pulling me more tightly into his lap.
His mouth takes mine aggressively, stealing my breath and firing my pulse rate up to frantic full speed. Then his kiss slows and gentles, turning deeper, opening me, searching me.
With every supple stroke, I’m seduced. I melt against him, my muscles warm and anesthetized.
My normally overactive brain empties of everything but him and his deliciously hard body, so big and solid under me.
Relaxed and hyper-aware at the same time, I take in all the details of the experience—the light scruff of his cheeks under my palm, the muscles moving in his jaw, the searing heat of his mouth, the pleasured groan rumbling deep in his chest.
I feelsexy. Sensual and empowered.
There’s no question my body is all-in, but my mind suddenly remembers something I’ve forgotten to confess. Something that’s about to become very important.
I slide my hands down to his shoulders, exerting just enough pressure to pull my mouth away.
“Blake.” My whisper sounds ragged. “I have to tell you something else.”
He uses the hand twisted in my hair to pull me back to him. “Enough confessions for tonight,” he mutters, going in for another kiss.
I shake my head, leaning back again. “No. This one I think you should hear.”
