Page 80 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

It’s not lingerie, but in a body like hers, it might as well be on the

floor by now.

“What’s up?” she breathes, her fingertips picking at one another. “Is

everything okay?”

“Everything is fine with me. Is everything okay with you?”

She stumbles over her words, the sight painful to watch. “I-I’m fi-

fine. Promise.”

“You sound like you’re upset,” I point out. “Plus, you were pacing

forever. People don’t just pace, Leah. It’s because something is

bothering them. Is it me being here? I can sleep downstairs or in the

shop, if you want.”

Her brows knot like I’ve insulted her. “What? N-No it’s not that at all.

I-I just…”

I can see now that a hug isn’t going to fix this.

Still, I come forward with the intent to comfort, but she takes it

differently. Her feet leap forward, and her arms rest on my

shoulders, making her back stretch out long and invert her posture

only slightly. Her chest pushes to mine, and her lips manage to lead

their way right onto my own where I can perfectly taste her lip-gloss

from earlier.

I don’t break the kiss. I don’t even question it at first, smoothly

running my palms down her spine until they meet the rim of her ass.

She bounces upright, either in flinch or in intent, and she hikes

herself into my hold where her legs cross behind my back. Having

her pinned a little higher on my posture helps with our magnetic

kiss, her tongue on a voyeurism expedition into my mouth.

It lasts for a long time, and I don’t help matters by leaning her back,

watching her sink into the side of her bed with my body leaning over

hers. She writhes underneath the pressure, the feeling overwhelming

while I knead my palms against her thighs and kiss her until both of

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