Page 5 of Taming the Bad Boy

But just as my grip tightens, she pulls back.

Not quickly. Just a soft, tentative retreat, like she doesn’t want to offend me. Like a voice in her head is telling her to take it slowly. She pats my chest awkwardly with her hands before dropping them to her sides. “We should go, don’t you think?” She smiles, her voice light but projecting an unspoken boundary. “We don’t want all the lanes to be taken.”

I read her loud and clear, and although it takes every ounce of willpower I have and all I want to do is pull her closer, I force myself to remove my hand from her waist and step back.

“Yeah.” I nod. “We wouldn’t want that.”

I lead her over to my bike, and she follows. “So we really are going bowling?” she asks.

Grinning, I throw my leg over my bike. “Why? You think I was gonna take you to some dark alley and have my way with you?”

A soft sound escapes her lips, like a startled breath, and I don’t miss the way her eyes widen and her legs stiffen. Did she actually think that’s what I wanted? Or is the thought of it now turning her on?

“Of course not,” she protests, clearly not wanting to offend me.

Smirking, I motion to my bike. “Well, hop on, my little grease monkey. And I’ll show you how to make nothing but strikes.”

Ivy stops midstride, glaring at me as if I’ve just insulted her. Christ, she’s adorable. “Oh,you’llshowmehow to get nothing but strikes?” Shit, I bet she’s even cute when she’s angry. I don’t think I could stay mad at this goddess.

I shrug provokingly. “Yeah, that’s what I said. So what?”

Ivy puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes, but I see the blush on her cheeks. “Okay, tough guy,” she replies, tonguing her teeth. “But when I win, you owe me something.”

So cutie wants to play a game, huh? I narrow my eyes as she tilts her chin up in defiance. Her shirt all twisted up like that is acting like a push-up bra, really showing off just what a rack she’s got under there. “Okay, baby,” I reply. “You win, you can have anything you want.”

Her lips purse, and I swear she’s about to tell me to fuck off and drive her home. But to my surprise, she slowly smiles and hops on the back of the bike. “Let’s go then, Slate,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Before you scare me off with any more romance.”

A grin consumes my face as I kick the bike into gear and pull out of the lot.

Girl, if you think this is romance, you have no idea what else I’ve got in store for you.

The bowling alleyis pretty packed when we enter. It’s retro, with neon lights, worn-out lanes, and the smell of cheap food and popcorn in the air. I was here a few weeks ago with some of the Bastards, hustling some guys who thought they were hot-shots. By the time the night was over, our pockets were fat with their cash.

But this evening, I don’t want to see anyone but Ivy.

She looks across the room, her eyes flashing with excitement. “Jeez, I haven’t been bowling in alongtime.”

I throw an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. “Be prepared to lose, girl,” I whisper.

She laughs and wriggles out of my grip, pushing me up to the counter. A bored kid, probably fifteen, reading Tolkien takes my money and hands us our shoes after asking our sizes. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Poor guy doesn’t know how good he has it. Nice cushy job like this?

At his age, I was already on my own, living hard and wild, just fighting to survive. I grew up in the foster system, bouncing around from home to home, until finally the shit hit the fan. The man I was staying with was abusive and would fly into a rage any time I refused to call him Dad. My “mom” at the time never stood up for me either.

The two of them forced me to work at Mick’s Repair shop and would take any money I made so they could “put it toward utilities.”

I knew they were lying. They spent it on booze and drugs and nights out at the bar. So one night, after a really rough beating, I decided I’d had enough. I started hiding my money, giving over only half of what I was making after lying about the boss having cut my hours. A few weeks later, I packed a bag and left.

But not before giving my foster-dad a nice right hook in the eye.

I bounced around from job to job for a while before ending up in Chesterville, where I met Saxon, the leader of the Heartless Bastards. I’m still not sure what he saw in me back then, but he offered me a place to stay and a job. But more than that, he offered me a life. And I know I’ll never be able to repay him for that.

Ivy giggles beside me, grabbing a bowling ball and stepping up to the line. I watch her, arms crossed, my gaze devouring every gorgeous inch of her as she readies herself. She’s small, but she moves with a confidence far beyond her size.

She tilts her chin down, lines up her shot, wiggles her hips, and calls out, “Ready for this one? Strike time!”

She practically throws the ball down the lane. It slams down, veers right, and clips only two pins before ending up in the gutter. She groans and turns to me. “I’m terrible.”

Chuckling, I walk over to her and hand her another ball. “Here,” I say gently, wrapping my arms around her and turning her to face the lane. “Let me show you.”

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