Page 54 of The Bad Boy Rule

Yeah, something tells me that little miss perfect might have more of those than I do at this point. When we make it to the parking garage, I follow behind her through the entrance to the first level.

I’m not even going to pretend like I didn’t watch her heart-shaped ass sway the entire way. I’ve got zero fucking shame.

And goddamn, it’s an amazing ass.

Perfectly curved and filling out every inch of those jeans. My eyes drag over the dip below her cheeks, the fullness, how fucking ripe she looks.

I’m an ass guy, and Golden Girl has one that I want to sink my teeth into. That’s my plan anyway.

Suddenly, she comes to an abrupt stop in front of me, causing me to collide with said amazing ass, and I almost groan when she brushes against my dick.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t even think about calling an Uber. Do you think you could drop me off at my apartment before… whatever it is you have to go do?”

My brow arches. “You’regonna get on my bike?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” she says nonchalantly, as if her riding a fucking motorcycle isn’t something that I’d be questioning.

Her.

I bark out a laugh, the sound echoing around us as it bounces off the concrete walls of the parking garage. “Ever ridden on one before?”

Her head shakes. “Nope, but I’m… trying new things.”

“Your parents are going to lose their shit,” I finally say.

The grin on her lips falters slightly, almost indecipherably, but she quickly recovers. “Exactly. Isn’t that part of the plan?”

Touché.

“I can drop you off, but I don’t have a helmet,” I say as I reach forward, pressing the button for the elevator. I’m on the sixth floor because the garage was packed when I got here this morning.

“It’ll be fine. I only live like ten minutes up the road.”

I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and nod. A comfortable silence settles over us as we wait for the parking garage elevator, which seems to be taking its sweet fucking time. It’s old, the entire hospital is, but goddamn.

Lennon pulls out her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans and starts to scroll her socials, a small smile playing at her lips as she double taps the screen.

I don’t even have social media, but if I did, I’d undoubtedly opt for watching her instead.

I like observing her in secret moments like this. When she’s unguarded and lost in whatever she’s doing. My eyes trace the delicate slope of her nose, which is dusted with freckles despite the makeup she has on to conceal them. I never thought I’d like freckles, but here I am, wanting to count them like a psychopath.

I watch as she rakes her teeth over her plush bottom lip, a soft, sweet giggle bubbling out of her.

Freckles and giggling are new turn-ons for me, go fucking figure.

Finally, fucking finally, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open for us to step inside. Lennon goes in first, and I follow behind her, subtly adjusting my dick, which is semi-hard behind my zipper.

The doors shut, and it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the small space, a stiff reminder that even in September, it’s still going to be Satan’s asscrack in Louisiana.

“Jesus, it’shot. Why is there no air-conditioning in here?” she groans, slumping against the wall of the elevator, dropping her head back.

I press the sixth-floor button and stand across from her. “No clue.”

When the elevator jolts to life and starts to rise, both of her hands fly out, curling around the railing beside her.

We’re only three floors up when suddenly, there’s a god-awful noise somewhere above our heads, and it lurches to a screeching stop. The power cuts, leaving us in the dark, aside from the small amount of light that seeps in through the vent at the top that dimly illuminates the inside.

Motherfucker.

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