Page 88 of Stone Cold Touch

“Or are you worried Abbot wouldn’t?” He dipped his head to mine and his breath danced over my lips. “He thinks you’re evil? Screw it. Be bad.”

“I’m not sure how being bad is going to help anything.”

“It’s going to help. Trust me.” Reaching over, he slid the strap of my book bag down my shoulder and then tossed it in the locker. “Come and be bad with me.”

Taking a step back, I shook my head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not suggesting you come and have sex with me, Layla.” As I flushed to the roots of my hair, he puckered his lips. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, but not what I’m saying.”

I cast a doubtful look in his direction.

Roth reclaimed the space, curving his hands around my upper arms. “I promise I’ll have you back before Stony comes to pick you up. I’ll work some of my awesome skill and no one will be the wiser. Boy Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Boy Scout.”

His lips curved up. “Ah, good point, but come on. What’s it going to hurt? We’re friends, right? Two demon peas in a demon pod.”

The urge to laugh at him was powerful, but I resisted, because it only encouraged the jerk.

“Look, there’s something that I want to show you.” As I raised a brow, Roth pouted. “Not my manly bits, you little perv.”

“Yourmanly bits?” A laugh burst from me. “You are so bizarre.”

“But you were thinking about my manly bits.”

Two spots of heat blossomed on my cheeks. Now I was. “No, I wasn’t.”

He grinned. “By the way, my manly bits are not bits. Just want to clear that up.”

“Oh my God...”

“Come on. There’s a place I think you need to see that will help put all of this in perspective. You’ll see that being bad isn’t bad at all. Come on, shortie,” he goaded, eyes twinkling like two pieces of topaz. “Skip with me.”

Skipping did sound good. And there was a healthy dose of curiosity when it came to whatever it was that he wanted to show me that could change my perspective, but leaving school with him was stupid, bound to turn ugly, and Zayne would be...well, he wouldn’t be happy.

But Roth was like this little devil on my shoulder, urging me to be bad and to enjoy every freaking moment of it. Except he wasn’t a little devil. He was the Crown Prince of Hell.

Common sense seemed to have belly flopped itself right out the window and face-planted in the cement below, because I found myself nodding and saying, “Okay.”

22

I stared at the metal monster in front of me and slowly forced my gaze to where Roth stood. This “being bad” thing was already a horrible idea.

“Since when did you start riding a motorcycle?”

“This is not just any motorcycle, shortie. This is a Hayabusa, one of the fastest rockets on the road.” He held out a helmet. “Here.”

I eyed the silver-and-red motorcycle. There was barely any room for two people on the thing.

“It’s not bad.” The strap rattled off the helmet as he shook it at me, impatient. “We need to get going before the rent-a-cop decides to wake up from his nap and catch us outside, forcing me to do more unsavory demon things.”

We’d made a pit stop at the school office, and I didn’t know what he did in there to ensure no one would call home. Sighing, I studied the motorcycle.

It wasn’t hard to picture Roth on the crotch rocket. Shirtless.

Why did my brain always takeeverythingin that direction? I was going to blame the genes from mommy dearest.

“What are you thinking?” Roth asked as keen interest flashed across his face.

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