Page 81 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

us can’t breathe.

I’m hard, and she can feel it.

I’m determined to have her, and she agrees.

My heart flutters into my neck, into my throat, and we both choke at

the sensation while we shiver and move as one body. The nightgown

is up past her hips now, and this should be the point of no return.

But I can’t bring myself to latch onto the strings of her matching

thong, though my body can’t think of much else to do right now.

“I-I can’t,” I pant into her lips.

Her hips rock into mine, as though to disprove that sentiment.

I smile and pull back to catch my breath, her soft inhales almost cute

in their gasping demeanor.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t physically,” I remark, both of us highly aware

that the rod in my pants wants nothing more than to break free of

this flannel so I can properly make her feel good. But it’s not right.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

My brain fogs with her desperate need to have me and mine to have

her.

Maybe I should go through with it. Just get it out of the way and

settle both of our frenzied emotions tonight. It’s been turbulent at

best, and we both could use a release like none other. But looking at

her pretty face and her innocent grin, I know I don’t have the heart to

go through with something so careless as impulsive as sex tonight.

She’s too emotionally vulnerable tonight, which is no better than

bedding her down when she’s drunk.

I pull away, and she sits up, the nightgown falling over her hips and

thong with ease. She even pulls a blanket over her lap just to be sure,

and I hate myself already for this mix-up.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I groan, pushing my hand over the hem

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