Page 21 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

Stay at his.She hadn’t planned for that. Of course, he wanted to show her how much he’d changed. Maybe it was time for her to start giving him the opportunity.

Maybe that explained how she ended up walking around the converted barn that Alistair called home now. It was nothing like the stately manor house he’d grown up in. Even less like the trendy flat they’d shared in Kensington.

It was homey and comfortable. Practically inviting her to take off her shoes and curl up in the overstuffed chair that looked perfect for reading with a cup of tea while a fire burned in the large tiled fireplace.

“You can take the room at the top of the stairs to the left,” Alistair said as he completed giving her the tour of the ground floor. “You didn’t sleep on the plane, so if you want a nap, that’s cool.”

“Perfect. Don’t let me sleep more than four hours,” she said.

“I won’t.” He stood there at the bottom of the stairs as she started up them.

Tempted to invite him to join her on that double bed while tingles spread through her. Remembering the way his mouth had felt on hers the other night...

“Do we have plans?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“It’s the full moon the night of the wedding, so I was hoping to go someplace on the solstice.”

“Great. We can take my bike and have dinner at the lighthouse on the pier.”

But his body language wasn’t givinggreat. Tense and maybe something else that she wasn’t able to detect. “It’s okay to say no.”

“No, it’s not. All I did was turn down everything you suggested when we were together.”

“Yeah, but we’re not together now. We’re trying to be friends. Friends aren’t twins and don’t have to agree to do things they hate. That’s not how real relationships work,” she said. It had taken her friendships with Sera and Liberty to force her to see that. In the past, she’d spent so much time making sure she fit the mold of whatever someone else wanted her to be. Never again.

“Yeah, but...”

“Honestly, it’s okay. You have a great yard. I can meditate in the garden, and I’ll be happy,” she said.

“Poppy, stop. I thought we’d take the bike and head over to Glastonbury on Wednesday and spend two days there before heading to the wedding venue. I booked a room at a B and B there. The Tor is perfect for your moon ritual. I know it’s not the beach—”

She threw herself at him, and he caught her. She hugged him tightly. He couldn’t know how touched she was that he’d planned something for her. Not an activity where he needed a plus-one, but something that suited the woman she’d become. “Thank you.”

“For Glasto or catching you?”

“Both,” she said, kissing him quick because she couldn’t resist him when she was this close.

His arms around her were tight and strong. All the feels she wished she didn’t have for this man swirled around them like the gusts that stirred the surrounding open farmland. She was buffeted by the past and the present, trying desperately to find her footing in this storm so that she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

But his hands cupped her butt, and his tongue slid over hers, and thinking became impossible. Who wanted to debate the merits of mistakes when there was a hot man holding her?

Turning so her back was against the wall near the stairs, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed her hands into his hair.

His hair was thick and smooth as she kneaded her fingers through it while he deepened the kiss. She sucked his lower lip between her teeth before lifting her head. This close, she could see the flecks of gold and green in his brown eyes. His lashes were long and dense. She’d always been jealous of them whenever she tried unsuccessfully to put on fake lashes.

“Uh...” It was like being around Alistair was short-circuiting her brain. All the things she’d planned to say and be around him were gone.

“Yeah,” he stepped back and let her slide down his body.

She almost let a groan slip out when she felt his erection against her thigh. And couldn’t help running her hand over the ridge of his cock, straining against his sweats. He thrust against her touch.

“Pop...you said platonic... Has that changed?” he asked, his words thready and breathy. He wrapped a strand of hair that had escaped her braid around his finger.

Shivering as his finger brushed the side of her neck, she sighed.Enough.There was no way this was part of any plan. No matter how much she wanted to act as if she could manage her feelings for him the way she steeped a cup of tea, she couldn’t.

This was Alistair. The bad boy she’d first glimpsed wearing a leather jacket and winking at her. Her favorite romantic hero come to life. Standing close to him, with his thick dick in her hand, she was getting wet just from his fingers tracing a pattern on her neck.

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