Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(35)

He tilted her head, lowered his. She didn’t resist, allowing him to tug her closer until their mouths met. Soft lips fused with his. The electricity zapping between them could’ve powered the city for a week.

God help him, he hadn’t tasted anything this sweet since the last time he tasted her.

Her hand came up but not to push him away, which he considered he might deserve. She wound her fingers into a fist, gripped his T-shirt, and yanked him closer. Her teeth scraped his lips, her tongue slipped into his mouth. He savored her flavor—the same flavor he’d tried to convince himself for years existed only in his imagination.

Nope. Real.

As real as the sound she just made in the back of her throat. A soft mewl he hadn’t heard in far too long.

The heady rush of Sofie in his arms, devouring his mouth, her control ebbing, took over. For a moment he forgot where he was. Until she pulled her lips away and lowered her chin. Stuttered breaths echoed in the quiet of the car.

Her forehead rested on his and she whispered, “Shit.”

His hand was wound in her hair. He stroked the silken strands with the rough pads of his fingers and backed away from her some, his heart thundering, his balls aching.

Nothing. Nothing compared to kissing Sofie Martin before or since. Shit, as it turned out, summed it up.

Green eyes landed on his. “Okay. Okay.” She nodded to herself. “This isn’t the end of the world.”

He felt his brow lift. “Scampi—”

“We can… we’ll just pretend this never happened.” She let go of him and gathered her purse, as shaken as he was.

He still had hold of the back of her neck. Gently, he slid his hand out of her hair, along her jaw, and thumbed her bottom lip.

Her eyes turned up to his.

“Like we forgot the night in the library,” he said.

“I’ve forgotten the details.”

He studied her beautiful face, her damp lips shining in the streetlight—wet from his kisses. “Lie.”

“That was forever ago,” she breathed.

He lowered his head, moved his thumb to tip her chin. Her eyes darkened to deep emerald. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

When her eyes sank shut, he lost himself again in the heat of her mouth.





CHAPTER TEN




Sofie had never needed a cup of coffee more than the one Faith handed her now. Cup of Jo’s fixed life’s problems. Especially six-foot-four, tattooed problems with devastating lips and the ability to make Sofie forget her vow never to give herself to a bad boy again.

What had she been thinking? She’d had nothing to drink at dinner with Scott, then, what, one glass of wine at the bar? One glass and she was making out with Donovan in his Jeep in front of her apartment. She couldn’t blame her tolerance—wine was her other BFF. She had a sky-high tolerance. Up until The Kiss, she assumed she had a high tolerance for Donny, too.

Apparently not.

When they finally managed to unsuction their faces, he offered to walk her up to her apartment to which she replied “NO!” almost comically loud. He grinned—big, and that’s when she scuttled up the stairs and inside to gather what was left of her good sense.

He didn’t pull from the curb right away, waiting until she was safely ensconced inside. She had turned off the kitchen light and stood in the dark, listening to the clock tick on the wall while chewing a fingernail and worrying maybe she had lost her mind.

She recanted the entire tale to Faith today when she’d shown up for work. Faith left the building and returned with two very large mocha lattes. Thank goodness. Sofie hadn’t slept well last night.

Borderline erotic dreams of Donovan made sleep nearly impossible.

She sipped her perfectly frothed mocha. “So? I’m insane? Is that it?”

Faith laughed. “You are not insane.” She opened a file drawer and dropped her purse inside. Then sat on the guest chair opposite the desk and lifted her own Cup of Jo’s. “Donovan Pate is a tall, hot, black-haired, blue-eyed man. Who, I might add”—she held up a finger to make her point—“rode in and saved your bacon from an evil, ass-grabbing lawyer. Who could blame you for playing tonsil hockey with him?”

“Do not do that.” Sofie pointed with the hand still wrapped around her coffee cup. “Do not make him sound like some kind of white knight.” He was more like a dark knight, with a big, scrawny dog. And a primered Jeep.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t had a lot of men ride in and save the day for me lately.” Faith sipped her coffee. “Mmm. I love Jo’s mochas.”

They were kind of out of this world.

“Delicious.” Like Donovan’s mouth, her mind filled in for her.

Great. These were the types of thoughts she was going to have to endure while planning the charity dinner.

Just fabulous.

Damn her for letting him dive into her mouth last night. She’d reacted exactly the opposite way than she should have—like flypaper instead of Teflon.

Sticking to him. Clinging to him.

“That must’ve been some kiss.” Faith lifted a fair blond brow. This is the third time you’ve spaced out this morning.” She smiled a knowing little smile.

Sofie stood and tucked a binder into the multi-pocketed tote bag on her desk.