Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(70)

He’d see about that.

When she reached for the blankets he grasped her wrist. Her brows came down in confusion.

“Naked,” he told her.

“Let me cover up, then I’ll get naked.”

From what he could see, from what he had seen of Sofie, every inch of her was as gorgeous as the next. Body issues were her own neurosis.

“You could see what I see,” he told her, “you wouldn’t take that away from me, either.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

He cut her off. “Seven years, Scampi. Give a guy a break.”

Her lips flattened. “Now you’re trying to coerce me.”

“Is it working?” He smiled.

She smiled back. Yeah, it was working.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised. “Bra.”

Biting her lip, she gave him a wary look before reaching around her back. A moment later, the cups of her bra loosened.

“Slow,” he reminded her. “First one strap, then the other.”

She slid one strap from her shoulder before crossing her arm over her body to slide the other strap off, too. His throat went dry. He wondered if it was possible to die of anticipation. But this wasn’t about him. This was about Sofie. She needed to reveal herself, to stop hiding, to trust him with her body. Every part of it, especially the parts she viewed as imperfect.

He suffered no such delusions. Perfection was often found in imperfection. Like the jagged pieces of rock in the fireplaces he built, fitting together as one beautiful whole.

Her hands cupped her bra to her breasts. But there’d be no hiding. Not anymore.

He nodded his encouragement. She let the material fall away. Nipples yet to chill in the mansion’s cool air stood soft, begging for his tongue. He resisted.

“Now the rest,” he said, his voice tight with lust, his hard-on straining against his fly.

“What about you?” Her voice the only sound in the room other than his pounding pulse.

“I’m next.”

“Why do I have to go first?”

He caught her hands before she could cover herself. “Scampi.”

She gave up the fight. “Fine.”

“Yes, you are.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Panties.” He released her hands and crossed his arms, watching her openly. “Slowly.”

She slipped her fingers into the waistband, which had the side effect of pushing her breasts out. Nice. Wiggling, she pushed down one side, then the other. His heart rate ratcheted as he watched her supple body shift and move. His eyes latched on to where her thighs met. He balled his hands into fists, aching to touch her.

Not yet.

“I feel silly,” she said.

“You look sexy.” He stepped forward and replaced her hands with his, sliding them into the back of her panties, around and over her bottom, gripping those cheeks in his hands. “Beautiful.”

Her fingers went to the hem of his T-shirt and raised the edge a second before her warm touch abraded his skin. “You have a rain check to cash in.”

Like he needed reminding?

“Trying to.”

She hauled his shirt halfway up his chest, then ran her fingers along the words etched over his rib cage. His abs tightened as she read, “We live with the scars we choose.”

Before she could ask what it meant, he leaned down and kissed her. She pressed her almost-naked body against his bared chest and moved her hands from his torso to his neck.

He took his hands from her bottom and pushed her onto the bed and followed her in. One hand on the small of her back, he inched her up, crawling with her until her head hit the pillows.

“There. That’s better.” His knee went between her legs, his mouth fusing with hers, before leaving her breathless and taking a nipple to his tongue.

“I’m not naked yet,” she panted.

He groaned, not speaking since his mouth was full.

Her hands went to his hair, kneading the top of his head. Moving down, he slid his tongue over her ribs, over her belly button. When he attempted to sink lower, she clamped her legs shut.

He looked up to find her giving him a shaky smile. For some reason, she didn’t want his face between her legs. He guessed this was another of her body hang-ups. She’d stopped him when he tried this in the great room, too.

“You don’t want me to kiss you here?” he asked.

Her throat moved as she swallowed. She shook her head no. But he didn’t believe her.

As a test, he lowered his head again. She squirmed but her thighs relaxed the slightest bit. He lowered his lips and pressed a kiss over the top of her panties. Her hips bucked.

Proof she didn’t know what she wanted. But her body did.

He pressed a second kiss right over her sweet spot, opened his mouth and breathed hot, knowing she felt that breath beneath the material. Knowing, because he dragged a plea from her throat.

A tight, high, “Donny.”

Sounded like a yes to him.

He moved her panties to one side, took a short, but appreciative, gander at what lay before him, then dove in. Tongue first.





Sofie’s back arched. She had no idea how long he’d been down there—long enough to lick every protestation from her brain. At first, she’d been uncomfortable, having never been able to relax enough to enjoy… um… that.