Page 6 of Bad Behavior

2

Emma

Iroll over in my bed, frowning when I hit something hard and pointy. My eyes open a crack, and I see shirtless Jameson mere inches from my face. I ran into his elbow, apparently.

Oh, shit.

My mouth goes dry as I take him in. His rakish dark hair, his broad brow and proud nose. His eyes are closed, but I take the time to appreciate his dark eyelashes, resting on his cheeks. And his cheekbones… I never knew that men had cheekbones that were so… enviable. Even covered in stubble, they are friggin dreamy.

Then I noticed them on Jameson, and I haven’t been able to un-notice them. I swallow hard. He’s just so… big. And so…

Unf. I hear that noise in my head every time he gets a heavy box down from a shelf. Just… unf.

I look down further, to his strong shoulders, his incredible arms, his muscular pecs and abs. It’s almost unfortunate that he has the sheet tucked around his groin. But also not really, because I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself right now if he were completely in the nude.

I had a hard enough time last night, when I brought a very drunk Jameson back to my apartment. He was planning to sleep at the bar, not wanting to go back to the house he shares with Asher.

Being the hero that I am, I offered to take him back to my place… for sleep. And I was treated to a rare view of drunk Jameson letting it all hang out. And by that, I mean, his cock jutted proudly toward his stomach as he focused on me.

Then he staggered toward me. I was pinned there, frozen, wondering if all my teenage dreams had come to life. Just standing there, blinking up at him, mouth a little bit agape. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and descended on me, his mouth connecting with mine.

There was no time to think or protest. His lips were hot and wet against mine. I opened my mouth to him, and he took what I offered, sweeping my tongue with his. I closed my eyes, tasting burnt sugar and whiskey on his breath.

He growled with a kind of male satisfaction, and the sound curled my toes. Then he let me go.

“Fuck, I’m drunk,” he muttered.

And then he passed out in my bed.

All of it happened right in front of me, because of who I am. I’m Emma Alderisi, Asher’s little sister and the golden child of my rich parents. My mother and father did such a good job of raising me to have impossible standards for men and the world in general, that I’m still a virgin at twenty four.

My gaze slides to Jameson, and I bite my lip. He doesn’t know that part, of course. Just like he doesn’t know that since I was age fifteen, I’ve had a plan.

A plan for Jameson to be my first.

Unfortunately, despite all my flirting, Jameson basically doesn’t even know that I’m alive. To him, I’m just Asher’s innocent little sister.

If only he knew even a hint of what goes on in my head…

Yeah, I know that Jameson is as black as I am white. I know that he never finished high school. I know that until a couple years ago, he was bartending and surfing, not looking for anything more than that.

I know that he’s almost a decade older than me. I really, really do.

But those facts don’t change how I feel about him. If anything, they only increase the tangled knot of emotions I feel every time Jameson so much as glances my way.

Across from me, Jameson stirs. He groans and his whole face crinkles with displeasure before he even opens his gorgeous brown-black eyes.

“Ffffffffuckkkkk,” he whispers.

Then he opens his eyes. It takes his a second to look at me, but when he does, his dark eyes go wide. “Holy shit. What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

I smother a grin. “Look around you. This is clearly my bed.”

He looks around, and curses again.

“What the hell am I doing here?” Then his panic seems to redouble. “Oh god, we didn’t—”

He peeks below the sheet he’s wearing, and goes pale. I can’t help but giggle.

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