Page 18 of Daring the Bad Boy

“You have two hours.” She checked the time. “Starting now.” She fanned her face as the class began to pick up their charcoals and apply broad sweeping strokes to their sketch pads.

This was going to be the longest two hours of her entire life.

Chapter Seven

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“Thanks so much for doing that, you really saved my bacon.” Rosie dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“Not a problem.” Cal looked up from belting the robe. “They’re an interesting bunch.”

Whom he’d talked to effortlessly while lying naked in front of them.

The exam had gone smoothly. Her inspection from Mr. Abernathy had passed without a hitch, the head of department impressed with the industriousness of her students. But the truth was, after being in a panic about the visit, she’d barely paid any attention to Mr. Abernathy’s arrival and eventual departure. Because all her attention had been on Cal, for two solid hours. She’d spent the time moving from student to student as she studied their work, while trying not to study him.

An impossible task. Because his presence had filled the room. Both captivating and confusing her. And now she had an intimate knowledge of him that had sparked so many questions.

Was the scar to the left of his navel from an appendix operation? Why had he gotten the tattoo, the bold geometric design both timeless and edgy? Did it signify something important, or was he just into body art? And what about the smaller tattoo on the inside of his right wrist that looked rough and homemade. When had he got that one done? As a teenager? What did it mean?

Exactly how old was he? Surely not more than late twenties, early thirties.

All questions a lover would ask. All questions she had no right to ask.

But most distracting of all had been the overwhelming sexual awareness that crackled between them, every time his eyes met hers. The sound of charcoal scraping paper, the sighs and sniffs and coughs of the class as they concentrated on their task in the airless room had faded away, until all she could hear was the incessant beating of her pulse in her ears. Matching time with the delicious beat in her clitoris.

Making all the questions she knew she had no right to ask even more dangerous.

Because after studying his body for two hours, she’d begun to see him as so much more than just an incredibly hot guy. She’d begun to wonder about his private life, his likes and dislikes. How he could be so disarming one minute and yet surly the next. What had put the hint of sadness into his eyes that she’d seen last night and on occasion today and whether she could help take it away…

Whoa there. You are not invested in this guy. And you don’t want to be.

“Can you take a check, or would you prefer cash?” she asked, trying to drag her thoughts back into the sensible zone.

“What for?” he asked, those hot chocolate eyes boring into her and her composure.

“Your fifty pound fee.”

“Keep it.” He stepped closer, those broad shoulders looking even broader as he towered over her, even in his bare feet.

“But you’ve earned it. It’s the least I can do.”

He took her arm. His thumb rubbed across the inside of her elbow and energy zapped up to tighten her breasts.

“School’s out, Rosie. And I’ve been lying buck naked in front of a group of strangers for two hours to help save your job.”

Her breathing seized to a halt, and her eyes glazed over as she got a lungful of his scent. Sandalwood and spice.

“Which is exactly why I should pay you for your trouble.”

God, he smelled as delicious as he looked. Would asking to lick him all over right now be too forward? Because after two hours of staring at his assets, her inner slut was out and proud, and raring to go.

Lifting his hand from her rapidly beating pulse, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and left his thumb in place, to skim down the side of her face. Her breath caught, the possessive touch blazing a trail across her collarbone.

“It’s payback time, for sure,” he said. “But fifty pounds isn’t going to cover it.”

“It’s not?” she said, all innocent, while filthy thoughts assailed her. She could see the pulse of his blood against the hollow of his clavicle, the sprinkle of dark hair playing peek-a-boo with the lapels of the robe. The sprinkle that she now knew grew in a thicket of dark springing curls around his groin.

Her back butted against the wall of the tiny office as he stepped closer and lifted his arm above her head to cage her in. And she imagined his long cock stiffening beneath the robe.

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