Page 71 of Bad Kind of Love

CHAPTER TWENTY

Becca

The sound of my phone ringing rouses me out of my deep sleep. My eyes still heavy from the sudden interruption, I pull myself out of Jack’s embrace. He reluctantly lets me go, and rolls over facing away from me as I drop to the floor and search for my phone. Once I find it buried under my sweatshirt, I squint from the bright light as I notice the hundred of missed calls and texts from Aunt Claire.

Shit.

How could I have fallen asleep?

She was probably at home losing her damn mind trying to get a hold of me.

“What's wrong?” I hear Jack's throaty voice ask as I frantically pull on my clothes.

“I have to go home.” I mumble while patting the ground for my thong.

“Why?” He chuckles, making the bed creak as he sits up. “Just stay the night.”

Annoyed, I rise up and quickly flick on the lights. “You know I can't.” I shake my head, avoiding his obvious glare. “I told my aunt that I was here with Wes, and if she finds out he’s not here, we're both fucked.”

Finding my underwear, I quickly jump into them before I pull on my pants.

“Give me your phone.” He demands, but I’m already rushing out of the door.

I hear him scurry out of bed and chase after me. “God dammit, Becca.” He curses, snatching my arm before I can rush out the front door. “Wait a fucking second.”

“As much fun as tonight was, I have to go.” I huff, trying not to get lost in his naked form that flexes with every breath he takes.

The hard lines across his face tell me he’s reluctant to let me go. “Tell her you went over to a girl’s house and stayed the night.”

If only I could.

Aunt Claire knew that the only girl friend that I had was Josie, so that excuse would most certainly not work.

“I can’t.” I trace a finger down his firm chest, slowly gravitating my way down to the V that disappears under his boxers.

“You can’t or you won’t?” He grips my finger, halting my movements.

He sounds upset, but more irritated than anything.

“It’s too risky.” I confessed, hoping he’d understand. I wasn’t just looking out for my best interest, I was looking out for his as well.

“Let me see your phone.” He demands again, but this time in a softer tone.

“Why?” I question, searching his eyes for answers.

“Just trust me.”

Did I trust him?

Not really, but I was starting to.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and hand it to him. He immediately starts tapping on the screen and puts the phone up to his ear.

“What are you doing?” I start to worry as I hear the ringing sound.

Instead of answering me, he turns away from me.

“Hi, is this Ms. O’Connor?”

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