Page 55 of The Renegade Billionaire
He pulls back enough to study my face. If he stuck a piece of paper between our mouths, our mingling breaths would surely turn it to wet mush in seconds.
“Well, Madison. You’ve got me here, and I’m apparently woefully unprepared. Whatareyou going to do with me?”
Dear God, if I make a fool out of myself right now, please don’t let me remember this tomorrow.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I lift up onto my tiptoes and seal my lips over his. My eyes are wide open—the shock of my actions registering too late, and my surprise is reflected in his matching expression. One second. Two. Three. Then his mouth curves into a smile against mine, and my lashes flutter closed in relief when his arm bands around my waist and hauls me to him.
Our bodies press together from my breasts to my knees, and my entire being melts as I sag into him.
His lips are so dang soft and gentle but firm as he angles his mouth over mine, deepening the kiss, and yup, I open to him with a low moan, the sound seeming to urge him on.
“Braxton,” I gasp, when he fists my hair. Holy Hades. It’s not even painful, but the illusion of how he could control my body has my stomach doing somersaults and my thighs clenching.
He nips my neck, just once, before resting his forehead against mine. “Just a taste,” he whispers. “You had fun tonight.” He sighs. “A lot of fun. And as much as I’d love to continue with this kind of fun…”
My mouth drops open when I register his hardened length pressing into my belly. That’s not a cock, that’s a weapon of mass destruction, and I’m ready to be its target.
“Oh, God,” I groan, my head tipping back. He kisses my chin, then pulls his body away from mine.
“As much as it’s killing me, tonight is not our night.”
“Does that mean we’ll have a night?” I snap my mouth shut. “I didn’t mean that. I…”
He takes my hand in his. “I hope you did, actually. But we’ll talk about it another time. What’s our plan here, sunshine?”
Embarrassment is a real drain on liquid courage because suddenly, I have no idea what to do.
“Madison,” he says gently.
“Um. Just a sec,” I say, then slip out from under his arms, march over to MJ’s truck, then bang on the window. Thankfully, they’re too busy to have noticed what was happening on the other side of the parking lot. Hopefully.
The two teens jump apart, and Marty Jr. rolls down the window. “Miss Madi? What?—”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “I know your mama thinks you’re at the youth group campout right now.”
The kid’s face pales, and the tiniest fissure of guilt sneaks up my spine.
“I won’t tell if you head back there with no stops.”
“Yes, okay. Of course, Miss Madi.” His voice cracks, and that guilt kicks me in the ribs. Haven’t we all snuck out of youth group at one point or another?
“One more thing,” I say before I turn around. “Can I borrow your kit?”
His brows raise, then he squints, trying to make out who is leaning against Pops’ old truck.
“Sure thing, Miss Madi. Are you sure you’re okay up here?”
This is what I love about small towns. Even scrawny little sixteen-year-olds watch your back.
“I’m fine. Mr. Braxton’s a city boy. He’s never seen our Georgia moonlight before.”
Marty Jr. hands me the bag from the back seat of his truck.
“Thanks, MJ. I’ll get this back to you tomorrow.”
He nods, spares one more questioning glance Braxton’s way, then starts his truck. I don’t move until his taillights have long faded.
“Is scaring away teenagers one of your many talents?” Braxton asks. He hasn’t moved from where he’s leaning against his truck, but his voice carries to me on the breeze.
