Page 16 of Daring the Bad Boy

He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over a chair, then lifted a foot to pry off one of his boots.

Well, he’d wanted the distraction of a hook-up with Rosie, the hot kisser, to take his mind off his old man. And the crummy week he’d just spent in West Daley. Two hours doing the bare butt boogie in front of an art class full of people he’d never met before ought to cover it. Even if it did seem kind of like using a nuclear warhead to crack a nut – his nuts in particular.

He took off his shorts and wrapped the robe around himself.

If at the end of it they got uninterrupted quality time to pursue what they should have pursued last night it would be worth it.

She would be so damn grateful for his self-sacrifice – and hopefully the sight of his junk might turn her on. The way she’d blushed redder than a firetruck had sure as hell turned him on.

He felt the hot weight settle in his abdomen. And coughed.

Down boy. No getting a boner ahead of schedule, or this ordeal was gonna be even more excruciating than anticipated.

Chapter Six

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“You don’t have to go the Full Monty.” Rosie eased a breath out past her constricted lungs.

Good Lord, she didn’t know about her class, but she was ready to pass out just looking at the dark curls on his chest peeking out from behind the belted robe. The bulge of his calf muscles as he had walked into the room had nearly given her a heart attack already.

“I haven’t got a problem with going the Full Monty, if that’s what you need,” he murmured in a confidential voice for her alone.

What she needed right now was an iron lung, because every single thing he said was adding to her breathing difficulties.

“No really, the class is about drawing your musculature.” Of which he had more than enough to go round from what she could see. “Not your genitals.” She took a staggered breath as heat flared across her chest.

Did you just say genitals you nitwit? Like a district nurse.

“A strategically draped sheet will allow you to keep your modesty, while still allowing the students to draw what they need to draw.”

And stop me from passing out ahead of time and making an even bigger tit of myself than I have already.

“Whatever.” The naughty lip quirk let her know what he thought of her total surrender to his magnificence.

She needed to work on that. Or she’d never be able to follow through on last night’s promise.

Where was her inner slut when she needed, the bitch? Oh yeah, in the bottom of a strawberry daiquiri glass.

“Where do you want me?” His gaze slanted to the dais she’d set up on the opposite side of the room in front of the class. Really just a raised platform with a mattress on it and a sheet draped over it, it suddenly looked like a throne to Rosie. A throne where the god of hot was about to display all his assets, and she would be able to look but not fondle.

There is no justice in the world.

She touched his arm, struggling to absorb the erotic jolt as the muscle flexed beneath the robe. “The most important thing is that you’re comfortable.”

And I don’t face plant in awe when you drop the sheet.

She directed him to the throne. The hush of the class, who were usually a fairly chatty lot, told her all she needed to know about his effect on them too.

“If you lie down, and then arrange yourself in a pose that you think you can hold for at least ten minutes. Take off the robe and I’ll… Um… I’ll…” She grabbed a sheet from the freshly laundered pile she’d retrieved from the supply closet and fanned it out. “I’ll protect your modesty while you decide how you want to do that.”

Not that he seemed to have much modesty.

She held up the sheet in front of her, to shield him from the class. And her.

He stepped onto the dais and turned towards her, the confidential smile on his face suggesting he wasn’t nearly as worried about his modesty as she was. She drew in a deep breath, to stave off oxygen deprivation as the robe slipped off his shoulders.

Oh my. Oh my. Breathe. Keep breathing.

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