Page 16 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
My heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, feeling him lean into my touch.
"And now?" I ask.
"Now I'm still probably not good enough for you," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "But I'm selfish enough to want you anyway."
Pulling him down to me, I brush my lips against his. "Good thing I get to decide what I deserve."
CHAPTER 7
RILEY
Cooper groans against my mouth, and I feel his resolve crumbling. His hands slide up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, tension radiating through his body—the war between want and restraint.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks one more time, his voice barely a whisper.
Instead of answering with words, I reach for the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up. He helps me, lifting his arms so I can toss it aside. My hands explore the tats wrapping around his arms and chest, the ink that I've only glimpsed before when he worked shirtless in the yard during those hot summer days.
He's beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight—broad shoulders, lean muscle, a few scars that tell stories I want to learn. When my fingers trace over one near his ribs, he sucks in a sharp breath.
"Riley," he says, my name like a prayer on his lips.
His hands find the hem of my shirt, pausing there. The question in his eyes is clear, and I nod, lifting my arms.
He slowly lifts my shirt over my head, his eyes darkening as he takes me in. I'm suddenly grateful I wore my lacy black bra today instead of one of my comfortable cotton ones.
"God, you're gorgeous," he whispers, and the heat in his voice makes me flush.
His hands hover over my skin, not quite touching, memorizing me. When his fingers finally make contact, trailing along my collarbone and down to the edge of my bra, I shiver.
"Cold?" he asks with a hint of a smile.
"Not even close," I breathe.
He leans in, pressing his lips to the curve of my neck, then lower, to the swell of my breast above the fabric. My head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as sensation washes over me. This is nothing like the few fumbling encounters I've had before. Cooper touches me with certainty, mapping my body with every caress.
His hands move to my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra with practiced ease. The fabric falls away, and the cool air hits my skin just before his warm palms cover me. I gasp at the contact, arching into his touch.
"So responsive," he murmurs against my throat, his thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks. "I love the sounds you make."
I didn't even realize I was making sounds, but now I'm hyperaware of every breathy sigh, every soft moan that escapes. He seems to catalog each one, using them as a map to drive me higher.
His mouth follows the path his hands blazed, and when his lips close around one nipple, I cry out, my fingers tangling in his damp hair. The sensation shoots straight through me, pooling low in my belly.
"Cooper, please," I whisper, though I'm not even sure what I'm asking for.
He lifts his head to look at me, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "Tell me what you want, Riley."
The demand in his voice sends another wave of heat through me. I've never been good at asking for what I want, always too worried about seeming needy or pushy. But the way he looks at me—like I'm the only thing that matters in this moment—makes me bold.
"You," I say simply. "All of you."
His eyes flash with something primal, and he captures my mouth again in a bruising kiss. His hands slide down to the waistband of my jeans, fingers working at the button. I help him, lifting my hips so he can peel the denim away. The counter edge presses into the backs of my thighs, reminding me that this is real, that this is happening.
Cooper steps back enough to work at his own pants, and I watch the play of muscles across his chest and shoulders. When he's down to his boxer briefs, he pauses, hands resting on the counter on either side of me.
"Last chance to change your mind," he says, though his voice is strained with the effort of holding back.
