Better When He's Bad
Page 15

“Where do you think you’re going?”
His voice was sharp when I turned to go back to the living room, where he had thrown the keys on the coffee table.
“To the store. I need to get food and stuff. This house is empty.”
“No.” His eyes were still closed and he sounded mad.
“No, what?”
Before I could react, he was up off the bed and had one arm locked around my waist. I gasped when the soft mattress was suddenly under my back and he was looming over the top of me, black eyes blazing like coals.
“I want you here with me.” He was braced above me on his good arm and using his injured hand to unbutton the front of my flannel shirt.
“Bax. The house is empty. I need to get food, need to buy the basics. I’ll be gone for like a second.”
Why wasn’t I making him stop undressing me? The front of the shirt split open and fell to the sides. I had on a serviceable black bra that was nothing fancy, but it made my skin look even paler and more speckled by contrast.
“Holy f**k . . . no wonder you dress like a hobo. You would never be able to leave the house if you walked around flaunting these babies.” His voice dropped an octave and his gaze flicked up to mine. Nothing but pure male admiration shined back at me. Apparently Bax was a boob man, and I had a really nice set, no getting around it.
“Look, Bax, I said I was probably going to go to bed with you, I didn’t mean tonight.”
He took a knuckle and ran the edge of it along the top cup of my bra. I shivered in response. His skin was rough and darker next to mine.
“We can’t have sex. No protection. I’m an ass**le on my best day, but I would never put you at risk like that.” His mouth tightened and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “You really don’t want to know where I’ve been.”
He was right—I didn’t. I was surprised he didn’t cart a pack of them around with him until I remembered the girls he was used to hooking up with had to have them on hand for business purposes. Gross.
“Besides, I can barely move. I asked if you were going to go to bed with me, not if you were going to f**k me, Dovie. I just want you here.”
I needed to argue, to make him let me up, but with a gesture born of pure familiarity with getting women naked, his hand snaked across my ribs and popped the fastener of my bra open. Because my arms were trapped in the straps and the loose material of my shirt, I could just stare up at him in a mixture of apprehension and wonder when he tugged the cups down to fully expose me.
My br**sts were on the large side considering that I was tall and lean. They were dusted with freckles just like the rest of me and crested with ni**les that were the palest pink and, at the moment, puckered and not shying away from those black eyes. This was wrong. He was wrong, but I didn’t have the words or the will to rein it in.
“Pretty. At first I wasn’t sure, but now I can’t believe I missed it.”
“Bax.” It was a warning and a question all mixed together on air escaping from lungs that felt like they were squeezing shut. I wasn’t the most sexually experienced girl in the world, but I knew enough to know that I was restless and achy, feeling heated and light-headed, and he hadn’t even so much as kissed me. He was way more than I was ready to handle, and then he was sliding the button on my jeans out of the hole and my belly was sucking in.
“You have to stop.” Only the zipper followed down and my black cotton underwear that was in no way intended to be on display was suddenly just that. His eyes were like obsidian, his mouth was tight, and I wasn’t sure if the light sheen of sweat beading up on his shaved head was from battling back discomfort or from arousal. I could feel the press of an impressive erection through the denim that separated us, but he was moving slow and had said he had no intention of h**ing s*x. He was a liar, though, so I shifted and made a move to cover myself back up.
He used the hand that wasn’t holding his entire weight off of me to snatch my own as I pulled at my bra and the sides of my shirt. I tugged futilely to get him to let me go, but he forced my palm flat on my quivering stomach and trapped it between my skin and his palm. He smiled down at me, and it wasn’t nice. It was wicked and promised all kinds of dark and scary things. It made my breath catch in my throat and I was momentarily stunned enough that it didn’t register that he was dragging my much smaller hand across my belly, below the hollow of my hips, and into the waistband of my underwear.
I panicked a little—okay, a lot—when I realized his intent. I could feel that even though my head knew I shouldn’t be here with him, my body was all for it. I was slick across my own fingers, damp, warm, and pulsing. I saw something in his eyes flare. I struggled to pull away again and it just ended with a broken moan coming out of my throat as he actively forced both our hands farther into my pants and closer to the parts of me that were well aware of what a guy like Bax could offer.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice was low and lost somewhere in the haze of sexual intoxication he was spilling all over me.
“Stop . . .” It should’ve been harsh, sounding sure and defiant, but it wasn’t. It was raspy and breathy because he got my hand where he obviously wanted it and was making me stroke my cl*t while his thick digit went on a tour to find my G-spot.
“Mean it.” He rumbled the words against the side of my face, where I felt the soft brush of his damaged mouth. I had never experienced anything like this before. I couldn’t escape the drag and pull of it. I arched my back and moved my hand in tandem to his ministrations, never looking away from the velvet drape of his gaze.
I tossed my head to the side and he took advantage of the distraction to suck the tip of one breast into the scorching cavern of his mouth. I heaved up so hard that it drove his fingers harder into me and made me grind my own hand harder against aroused and ready-to-go flesh. This was out of control. I didn’t do things like this, especially not with guys like him, but when he switched his attention to the other breast and added another finger and growled at me to press down on my quivering little point of passion with my thumb, it was all over. I thrashed under him, forgot he was hurt, and used my unoccupied hand to claw at the back of his head where it was latched on to my breast. I lost it all . . . control, sanity, decorum, reality. It all went out the window and I was just a mass of nerve endings and boiling pleasure that couldn’t be contained. It spread all over us, across my hand and his, and I felt moisture build up in my eyes as I scrambled to catch my breath.
He pulled his head up and looked down at me, not with smirking satisfaction or any kind of gloating, but with longing and a hunger like I had never seen before.
“You are so sweet and tight and all shiny and new. Are you sure you’ve done this before?”
I yanked my hand free from where it was still lodged in my pants and put both palms on his chest to shove him off of me. He went, but not before swiping his lingering fingers over my cl*t one last time. It made me shiver and glare at him as I scrambled back into my clothes.
“I told you, Billy Clark when I was a teenager, and then there was a guy from the restaurant when I first moved here. I’m busy, and typically I’m not interested. We can’t all have strippers and hookers at our beck and call.”
He snorted and resumed his position on his back on the bed. I made a face when I saw that blood had worked through the bandage on his side.
“Sure you can. That’s what strippers and hookers are for. Come on, Copper-Top, I’m beat. Climb up here and go to sleep.”
I don’t know how he could just close his eyes and act like none of that had just happened. The front of his boxers was bulging and I could see a small wet circle on the fabric. I shoved frustrated hands through my hair.
“I told you to stop.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at him. He cracked open one eye and shoved his good arm under his head.
“You didn’t really want me to.”
I huffed out an annoyed breath. “You don’t get to be the judge of that.”
He sighed and let his open eye drift shut. “I do when you’re leaning into my fingers, one hand touching yourself, the other pulling me closer. I’m pretty sure you left half your fingernails in the back of my head. And ‘oh, Bax; please, Bax; more, Bax’ sounds a whole lot different than ‘stop.’ If I was more mobile I wouldn’t have needed your help. If you’re going to do this, Dovie, then commit; if not, then call your friend and take off. I don’t like rules, yours or anyone else’s. Like I said, if you want me to stop or you really don’t like something I’m doing, you need to mean it. Now, either come to bed and I’ll get up and take you to the store in the morning so you can buy groceries and whatever other girly shit you need, and I can buy a big-ass box of condoms, or go away. My head hurts, my side is on fire, and you are ruining a really nice buzz I have from getting you off with minimal effort and one working hand.”
I wanted to choke him. I stood there and considered whether or not I could actually get away with murder. I should call Brysen. This was out of my wheelhouse and there was no way I was up to going rounds with him like this. He said commit; I didn’t think I could. I was going to find my phone and call Brysen and leave him to his own devices. That’s right; I was going to do the smart thing and walk away. Only his eyes snapped back open and he levered himself up so he was sitting, and he snagged me around my waist, and pulled me down on the bed so I was sprawled across him. His breath was warm and seductive as it whispered across my face.
“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”
He stroked his hand all the way along my spine and I let my eyes drift closed. What on earth was I supposed to do now?
RACE AND BAX MIGHT have grown up together, but they were as opposite as day and night. And not just because my older brother came from a privileged background, and Bax was oh-so-obviously from the streets. It went beyond their light and dark looks as well. I woke up early again, mostly because I was surrounded by brawny, half-naked Bax and he had his hands tangled painfully in my hair. Even in sleep it was like he was struggling, fighting some unseen enemy, and that made my heart hurt for him. Race slept like a baby. He sprawled out, snored, and wouldn’t wake up if a bomb went off next to his head.
Grocery shopping with Bax was like a full-contact sport. He blazed through the aisles, throwing things in the cart at random with no idea or rhyme or reason as to what they went with or what they could make as a meal. He clearly had a sweet tooth because there was more candy in the basket than any grown man could possibly consume. Race made a list, broke it down in meals, and avoided the aisles that didn’t have the stuff he wanted in them. Not to mention the other shoppers. Bax ignored them, or glowered at them if they stopped to look at him too long. He was the one who had tattooed his face; I would’ve thought he would be used to it. It didn’t help matters that without his hoodie, there was no missing the smear of red high along his side on the fabric of his gray Henley he had pulled out of the back of the Runner. Race was affable. Liked to chat and flirted shamelessly with any old lady or teenage girl we went past. I was having a hard time figuring out how the two of them managed to have any kind of friendship, let alone a brotherhood that Bax had been willing to go to jail to protect.
I pulled up short when I realized we were in the pharmacy aisle and he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. There were giant boxes of condoms in front of him and he was waiting for me to decide what I wanted to do about it. All I could do was stare at him. If he didn’t seem to be two different men, it would be easier. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the brute that bossed me around and tried to intimidate me, but the guy who held me at night and brushed my hair softly off my face I kind of had a major crush on. It sucked that they both inhabited the same battle-hardened, impossible-to-ignore body.
I sighed. “Just get them. Better safe than sorry.”