Page 43 of Savage in the Sweets
She winks at me. “It’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“That’s appreciated.”
“So is this Michael’s first time ‘getting laid?’” she asks, casting me a deadpan stare.
My cheeks flush with heat as my eyes divert from hers. “He’s had sleepovers back at the old place.”
“Gosh, you really do embarrass easily, don’t you?”
“That moment was not a gold star on my parenting resume.”
“Well, that’s not the only gold star you missed. After that board meeting, I think you need to learn how to treat others with respect.”
Being put through the wringer was not what I expected from Stephanie, but I suppose I deserve it.
“Agreed.”
She cocks a brow. “I’m glad we see eye-to-eye on that.”
Michael and April dash by the door, cookies in hand.
“Thank you for allowing Michael over,” I say, hoping her desire for blood is sated.
“No problem. Now go show my sister a good time.”
I turn to leave, but as I’m about to go, she says, “One more thing.”
I look over my shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Sure, you’re hot, and from what I gather, becoming pretty popular with the ladies, but let me make this clear: my sister is the finest piece of ass you’re likely to see in Wilson’s Grove. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Agreed.”
Lacy
After three outfit changes, I finally settle on a sundress that’s far more sweet than savage, but I’m not aiming for femme fatale, so it’s perfect. The orange color highlights my sun-kissed flesh perfectly, and the way it’s cinched at the waist makes the flare of my hips sensual and dramatic.
It’s okay to set boundaries. Protect your heart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to…
Fuck, I want to do everything.
But I don’t have to do it nicely. I’m gonna let him know he’s still an asshole as he pleases me. He’s gonna have to put some work in.
A knock sounds on the door, and I quickly apply the last coat of my pink lip gloss before rushing to greet my one-time rival.
Stomach sucked in, chest out, smile—or maybe I shouldn’t smile. Should I look serious? Angry?
What the hell is wrong with me? I never lose my head over a guy.
I fling the door open, rebelling against my newfound self-consciousness to see Mr. Tracksuit on the other side.
There’s this spark between us that you only read about in romance novels. It’s bright, intense, damn near blinding, and I know he feels it too.
The thin material of his athletic wear hugs his sinewy muscles, highlighting the hard, intense curves he’s earned from spending so much time at his gym.
The moment comes alive, taking on a mind of its own and playing me like a puppet. He steps toward me as I lift myself onto my toes, and the distance is closed between us.
His mouth crashes against mine in a series of hungry, wild kisses that I return with a fervor I’m unfamiliar with.
