Page 28 of Bad Boy for Hire
Their mating tongues were a promise of more to come. A promise of clothes being torn off one another as they stumbled through his house. A promise of moonlit, sweaty sex courtesy of the skylight in his bedroom.
The kiss was a premonition of the twisting of sheets and trying every position at least once. She’d kiss him anywhere and everywhere until he begged her to stop, and he’d kiss her until she begged him never to stop.
She raked her fingers up his neck and into his thick hair. She stood on her toes to deepen the kiss as her skin erupted in goosebumps. From the wind or from the kiss, she didn’t know which.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched like this—with such slow, deliberate care. Like she was being savored. She had the passing, and slightly unhinged, thought that she would be perfectly content having sex here. On the ground at the edge of the Bluffs, the wind whistling around them. She wouldn’t care how close to the edge they came while they found each other’s.
His grip on her hips tightened, his hold borderline desperate. Was he thinking the same thing? That he wanted her as much as she wanted him? Why had they ever pretended to deny it?
They parted, mostly to catch their breath. Chests heaving, eyes watering from the brisk wind, they stared at each other in silence. A question lingered, unasked. Darkness hid half of his handsome face. He grinned, the same grin she’d seen a thousand times from behind the bar at Salty Dog. Only here, half in shadow, that grin was knowing. Intimate. Meant only for her.
Yes, they’d both realized what they’d been missing.
“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath before blowing it out again. “I’m not seeing any way out of this with our clothes on.”
She let out a throaty laugh. “I don’t either.”
He grasped the lapels of his jacket, still covering her shoulders. “Come home with me.”
“Okay.”
His dark, reddish eyebrows leaped. “Yeah?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You were there for that kiss too.”
“I was trying to prepare myself in case you wanted to be practical.”
“Going home with you might be the smartest, most irresponsible decision I’ve made in years.”
“Today was a lot for you,” he conceded. “You handled it beautifully and looked beautiful while handling it, but I’m guessing it took a toll. I could be a gentleman and drop you off at home, but that feels like abandoning you after I promised to see you through the night.”
“You did agree to be my wedding date for the evening, and”—she looked at the moon—“it is still evening. I’m going to have to agree that you dropping me off at home would be abandonment.”
“Well. We can’t have that.” He lowered his head to give her another press of his lips.
Xavier drove home as fast as possible without putting them in danger. May had agreed to come home with him. And get naked.
It was a good fucking day.
He’d wanted to kiss her from the first moment he laid eyes on her at Salty Dog. That was around three years ago. She’d come with Lisa, for whom he’d spared a perfunctory glance. There had only been May, in a pair of tall shoes and short shorts. Her curves—round hips leading to a nipped waist, full breasts, and small shoulders—had been a temptation he wasn’t sure he’d be able to avoid. His only coherent thought had been that he hoped like hell she was single.
Once he realized they had friends in common, he saw her more often. And while she had been single, she also wasn’t looking to date. He grew more and more intrigued by her as time passed. They had interests in common, and she had outsmarted him on more than one occasion. Not only was she smart, but she was also witty. No one made him laugh or made him as hot and distracted as May.
Smoking hot and really cool. His Achilles’ heel.
They’d flirted, but she’d always look away rather than hold his eyes. He’d pour her a drink and consider asking her out, and she’d promptly excuse herself or mention a date she had “this weekend.”
He’d been confused until he’d learned about her no-hot-men rule, which, while flattering on some level, was the worst news a guy could get. As long as she thought he was “hot,” she wouldn’t date him. He’d settled for flirting, being friends, and hanging out with her at parties. He’d looked forward to teasing out another of her gorgeous smiles every time their paths had crossed.
Flirting and friendship had been enough, or so he’d convinced himself. Until tonight, when he’d realized that flirting and friendship weren’t enough. Kissing her had shown him what he’d been missing, and he was ravenous for more.
He helped her step out of the Range Rover and then raced for the house. He unlocked his front door and gestured for her to go in ahead of him. He dropped his keys on the table and flipped on a lamp, uncharacteristically nervous.
May Glenfield. In his house. In that dress.
It was what he’d wanted for as long as he could remember.
He’d thought on the drive home about how he’d handle this moment. Whether he’d offer her a nightcap or ask if she wanted to sit on the dock for a while. He’d decided to play it by ear. Now that they were here, he just wanted to kiss her again.
