Page 9 of Taming the Bad Boy

“You sure you want me to answer that, Ivy?” he asks. I draw a deep breath and run my tongue across my lower lip.

Do I? I’m inviting him into my world now.

Something I shouldnotbe doing.

“Yes,” I finally reply. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay, then,” Slate says, leaning closer, so close I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off his lips. I’ve never been kissed before, but I’m wondering what his feels like. What his naked body would feel like against mine. I’ve never had thoughts like this before in my life, but now I’m losing myself in them.

Keeping his voice low, he says, “You want me to take you out back, pull your pants down to your ankles, and take your virginity against the wall of this diner.”

I freeze.

Who is this guy? David Blaine? Seriously, is he some kind of magician or something?

There’s no use in trying to hide it now. I’m blushing like crazy. Red like a tomato. And Slate is smirking, which means he sees it, but more than that, he knows what he just said was right.

“How did you know I was a virgin–?”

“Know what you want yet?” the jaded-waitress barks, stepping up beside the table. She looks like she’s just worked a double and was called back for another shift.

I nearly jump out of my seat, but Slate isn’t bothered at all. He smiles charmingly and orders for the both of us as I take deep breaths and try to get my heart rate under control. Once she’s out of hearing range, I open my mouth to speak but realize I have no idea what I want to say.

“You know, the way you look at me…” he muses, eyes unwavering. “It’s like I’m a puzzle you’re just trying to figure out.”

“Accurate,” I reply. “You’re like this big, bad, brooding biker guy, but then you’re also this charming gentleman. What exactly is your job with the Bastards?”

“I tend bar. Do security.” Slate smiles. “Not as glamorous as you may think.”

“And read minds?” I suggest. He shrugs and chuckles.

“That too.” He winks.

I swear the room temperature has risen ten degrees since we sat down and is still climbing. I don’t know what I was thinking last night when I pulled him in to give me my first kiss–or how I even had the balls to do it–but I want to do it again now.

Only I don’t get the chance.

Slate slides out of his seat and scoots in beside me, wrapping me up with a strong arm over my shoulders. It’s subtle, but there’s an unspoken possessiveness in his touch. Like he’s showing the world that I’m his. “I’m not that complicated, Ivy,” he replies. “I see something I want, and I don’t let anything get in the way of me having it.”

My chest tightens. My heart is quivering. I’m feeling a storm of emotions I should not be feeling. This is dangerous.

If my dad finds out that I’m seeing a Heartless Bastard…

“And what do you want, Slate?” I ask.

His grip on me tightens. I can smell his delicious scent as he looks down at me.

“You, Ivy.”

I know I should respond. Tell him that I’m falling head over heels for him.

Or maybe I’m supposed to tell him we’re moving too fast and that this is a mistake. But when I look up at him and his piercing blue eyes, those words don’t come. Because even though I know this is wrong on so many levels, I don’t want him to stop.

And just like that–in an instant—I feel the same spark I felt outside the bowling alley go off again within me.

I glance over the counter into the kitchen where the cook is working on our order. I know it won’t be long before our food is out here, but I’m like a little girl on Christmas Day with a huge present wrapped up under the tree. I just can’t control myself. Especially not with Slate’s thick arm wrapped around me.

I lean in close and whisper in his ear, “Then what are you waiting for? Take me out backnow.”

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