Page 21 of Daring the Bad Boy

But then he lifted his head, the deep sigh making her realize how intimately linked they still were, and how stark bollock naked.

“Sorry, I didn’t last long,” he said, but he didn’t look sorry. Probably well aware he had nothing to be sorry for. “Next time, we do it in a bed. And you get to do the naked modeling.”

Her heart did another uncomfortable flip flop in her chest. Next time? “Sounds like a plan,” she said, attempting to match his light tone.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted her off him, held her for a moment round the waist as her shaky legs struggled to adjust to keeping her upright after the earth-shattering orgasm.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, but I think we should probably get dressed now. Before someone really does catch us.”

He nodded, although he didn’t seem concerned as he strolled over to his pile of clothing. As he shrugged off the robe, she got a tantalizing eyeful of taught male buttocks, the orbs of muscle flexing as he disposed of the condom, then slipped on his boxers and jeans.

She got a little giddy. She rushed to pull on her own clothing, but the pulse of awareness refused to subside.

Apparently one booty call was not going to be enough. But she couldn’t risk another. Given her bad habits… And all the questions she now wanted to ask even more.

He handed her back the robe once they’d finished dressing. And the awkwardness retur

ned. She’d expected him to tease her, flirt with her, maybe even kiss her again. To reassure her this was still casual. But their hook-up didn’t feel entirely casual anymore. The stupid bubble of hope was not welcome. Not welcome at all.

“Thanks.” She held the robe against her chest.

“I’ve got to scram,” he said, and the bubble of hope burst.

She shook off her disappointment. This was a good thing. She did not want to get invested. And neither did he. All good. The plan had been to use him, then lose him. Not use him then become infatuated with him.

Been there, done that.

Although even thinking about Vince in comparison with Cal seemed somehow ridiculous. Vince had certainly never made her see stars. Not even close. And she’d just been flown through the cosmos.

One thing was for sure, being in her tiny office organizing her schedule, creating her lesson plans and marking sketch books was never going to be the same again.

“Me too,” she lied. She had nothing much to do today now, except catch up on her sleep. Although somehow she didn’t think she’d be doing a lot of sleeping, given all the emotions careering through her at the moment. Shock, excitement, awe and the definite tug of regret.

Her sex clenched, remembering the feel of him buried to the hilt inside her.

Okay, maybe more than a tug of regret.

“We should get out of here before the caretaker locks us in for the weekend,” she said.

Which would be the absolute worse. Obviously.

“Sure.” He tugged on his jacket. But then he cupped her face, his callused palm rough against her jaw. “You want to come over to mine tonight, around eight? You know the address. We could have supper, then jump each other again? Get to a bed this time?”

The impossible bubble of hope pumped up again. Their booty call wasn’t quite over. Not yet.

“I’d love to,” she said, knowing the off-hand invitation shouldn’t mean this much to her.

He nodded. “Later.” Then planted a kiss on her lips and strolled towards the door.

But as the studio door swung shut behind him, she dug out her mobile and sent a text to Imo and Tash – her heartbeat doing double time.

Meet me at the Costa in St P’s in an hour. I think I’m in trouble, of the abso-fricking-luscious variety.

Chapter Eight

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