Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(78)

“Figured if the kids are going to be camping out here,” Donovan said, pushing himself up, “they might want to make s’mores and shit.”

She didn’t hide the amusement in her voice when she repeated, “S’mores and… shit?”

“Yeah.” His grin widened.

“You smell good.” Like outside. A hint of perspiration glistened on his forehead.

Closing in on her, he said, “Me being sweaty turning you on?”

“Everything about you turns me on,” she admitted, and heard the catch in her breath.

“What I like to hear.” He lowered his head and kissed her lips.

She tasted the salt on his skin, and a hint of coffee on his mouth. Gosh. Why was he so sexy? In a flash, she sympathized with Faith. There was something comforting about the familiar. And even though it’d been years since Sofie had been around Donovan, he was familiar. If she were being honest, she didn’t know exactly what she would do if she were in her friend’s shoes. After all, here she was with Donny after promising herself she’d never give him another piece of her again.

“I have to run some errands,” she said, not wanting to mull over her sordid thoughts. “I came out to see if you could drive me home.”

“Not a problem.” He gestured with his chin to the fire pit still-in-progress. “We can try this out tonight.”

Surprised, she asked, “You want me to come back?”

He ran both hands up her arms, beneath the sleeves of the T-shirt, his eyes on hers. “Scampi, babe. I want you here every night. Thought that would’ve been pretty clear to you by now.”

It wasn’t. Things weren’t clear at all. What they were… Well, things were amazing, that’s what they were. Her pragmatic, self-aware side wondered how many nights “every night” would end up being. Wondered what happened after he returned to New York… after he sold the house…

She had so many questions but not an ounce of fortitude to ask a single one of them.

“Cute as you look in my shirt, you may want to bring some of your own clothes. Can’t guarantee you won’t end up in a velour jumpsuit if you rely on what’s stashed in the basement.”

“Okay, but I may keep the shirt. I like it.” It smelled like him.

His eyes grazed over the baggy tee. “Keep it.” He put his teeth on his bottom lip and whistled. “Gertie!”

Gertie. He called Dog Gertie. Warmth rolled through her chest like a red carpet. For some reason his doing so was significant. A sign of progress, maybe?

“Let me get her inside and we’ll get you home,” he said, blessedly unaware of her thoughts. Or the hope blooming inside her anew. “Lunch before you go?”

“Um, no. No, thank you.”

Gertie bounded around a tree and came to a halt, leaning heavily against Donny’s leg. She was panting, drooling, her pale blue eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. What a great dog. Sofie hated the idea of her living anywhere else, of belonging to anyone else. Look at those blue eyes, the look of pure love and devotion she was giving her temporary owner. She was his, through and through.

Sofie tried not to see any glaring similarities between her and the dog. Including the one where they’d both lose Donny in the end.

“The clothes you’re bringing over tonight…”

When he didn’t finish, she prompted, “Yes?”

White teeth flashed against tanned skin when he smiled. “Those are for Connor’s sake. Not mine. When he’s not here, I want you naked.” He bent and gave her a quick kiss. “Can you do that for me, Scampi?”

“Yeah.” She’d do just about anything for him.

Just like the mutt who trailed loyally at his side as he walked to the mansion’s back door.





“No, no, I’m too—” Sofie’s protestation ended with a gasp as Donovan plopped her onto the hood of his Jeep. He pushed her skirt over her thighs and heard a soft exhalation, followed by, “—heavy.”

“Shut up,” he told her, laying his hands on the expanse of thighs gifted to her from the Almighty Himself.

“I don’t want to dent the hood.”

“Told you a million times, Scampi, you’re beautiful.” He smashed a kiss against her mouth and she caught his head, thrusting her tongue against his. The slide of their mouths echoed in other parts of his body and he found himself instantly impatient.

“Anyway, you owe me,” he teased, snaking his fingers around the legs of her panties and tugging.

She accommodated him by wrapping her ankles around his back and canting her hips. He pulled the material to her ankles. Pink, he noticed. He noticed something else, too.

“A thong,” he growled.

“It’s new.” Eyes wide, lips pouting but pursed, she was the picture of innocence. And yet, she’d been wearing the sexiest pair of panties to ever not cover her very fine ass.

“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me this was under your dress? I should make you put them back on and bend you over this hood instead of set you on top of it.”

She grinned. “You’re bad.”

“You love it.”

“I do love it.”

When her lips met his, he didn’t miss the sensation of his heart clutching. And not because of the kiss—though it was a damn good one—but because she’d said the word love.