Page 47 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

Her eyes remain locked on mine, searching, calculating the sincerity of my words. “You don’t know how to date.”

Ouch.

However, she’s not wrong.

I haven’t dated since high school. College girls were too much fun, and I got bored quickly.

Rory is not a sorority girl, nor is she like anyone I’ve ever been with.

Sexually or mentally.

My body wants her. My head won’t let her go. And my heart starts to beat too fast when she’s around.

“I know how not to cheat and that you’d be my number one. That’s all I need to know.” Rory averts her eyes, and I take that moment to step closer. “Let me kiss your ass and make it up to you—anything you want. Make me work for it because I want to. You’re worth it.”

Her light green eyes slice over to me. “I know I’m worth it. The question is, are you?”

I lift my shoulder. “I don’t know the answer to that. Probably not. But I won’t have you regret me. Or anything we’ve done. We’re only getting started, Snowflake.”

Both her brows lift as if not convinced just yet.

“Let me take you to dinner,” I emit softly. “I know you’re hungry.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then let me put you to bed.”

Her eyes narrow. “Wells….”

Her voice is a warning, but I don’t heed those often. They’re more like suggestions than anything.

“Yeah?” I ask innocently. “I’ll get you room service while you’re—”

“The room doesn’t have room service.”

I balk at her as if that’s the most appalling thing I’ve ever heard. “No room service? Shit…” I shake my head. “Doordash, then.”

“Wells—”

“Unless you need space.” I step closer, using my sex appeal to sway her because I can’t leave now.

I don’t want to leave now.

I need her to give me something—anything to tell me that she’s thinking about us. That she wants us to work.

I’ve never been so fucking desperate in all my life for her to give me a breadcrumb on where we’re at.

“Just promise you’ll call me in the morning,” I hedge, watching her chin lift the closer I get. “I need to know what you’re thinking. I need to know if you want this. If you want us and everything we’ve been building because that’s what we’ve been doing, baby. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about or want you.”

“Is that because I’m the daughter of the head coach of—”

“Don’t,” I clip out, frowning at her because I’ll allow a lot of shit, but not that. “We’re not going there. Ever. I don’t need the extra press. Who your father is has nothing to do with how I feel about you. It’s just an added obstacle I’ll jump over a million times for you.”

“He’s never going to accept you.”

“He hasn’t met me yet. I’m fucking awesome.”

“Yes, he—”

---