Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(35)

“Sure,” I relent. She saunters toward me, her too-long flannel sleeves falling to her fingertips, her ponytail crooked and disheveled in a way that somehow still looks hot. She bends over to get a closer look, taking it in. I think her expression is one of awe, but I can’t be sure.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes.

“Sure the fuck is,” I say, but I’m not talking about the drawing. She looks at it, but I’m looking at her. Her berry-colored lips and soft skin so pale that I can see faint traces of the blue veins that run beneath it.

“What is it?” she asks, tracing the elephant head with a crown of jewels and its trunk that’s wrapped around a trinket with her chipped-black fingernail.

“Ganesh. The god of good fortune. One of my regulars wants it on her thigh as a symbol of good luck.”

“Maybe I should get one, too,” she jokes. “I could use some luck.”

“Only if I’m the one to put it on you,” I say. She looks at me to gauge whether I’m joking. I’m not. If anyone gets to put ink on that untouched skin, it’s me. The air between us is charged with tension, and when she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, I press my thumb against her chin until she releases it. Her pulse flutters in her neck, her chest heaving.

Fuck it.

I grip her jaw, and her eyes flutter shut right before I pull her toward me. I lick at her lips, and she instantly parts them for me. My tongue slips inside, sliding against hers. I stand, keeping my mouth fused to hers, and deepen the kiss. The hand around her jaw slides into her hair at the nape of her neck while my other hand snakes around her waist.

I lift her, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist, and she moans when she feels my hardness through my jeans at her center. I prowl over to the wall and roughly pin her to it as our frenzied hands fight to remove the layers of clothing between us, finally giving in to temptation. Lo rips my hoodie off, taking my shirt with it. I shove my hands underneath her flannel, desperate to feel her skin, as she fumbles with the buttons. Flattening my palms, I move them up her stomach and her ribs, pushing her shirt up as I go.

“We’re not supposed to be doing this,” she breathes, tossing her shirt to the floor.

“Definitely shouldn’t be doing this,” I agree, pulling down the soft, thin, black fabric of her bra to expose her nipples, pebbled and pink. I brush my thumbs over the peaks, and she arches into my touch, only her shoulders touching the wall now.

“We should stop.”

My hands pause their exploring, and I lean back to meet her eyes, waiting for her cue. Lo pulls me back in, her hands in my hair, tugging at the short strands, and sucks my bottom lip between her teeth. I groan, gripping her ass, and swing her around. I lay her on the couch, working my thigh in between her legs.

Lo rubs herself against me and reaches for the button of my jeans. I half-consciously register her phone buzzing somewhere in the distance, but we ignore it. The buzzing never stops, causing Lo to mutter a curse beneath her breath. “It could be Jess.”

I peel myself away from her body, running a hand through my hair. Fuck. Lo sits up, pulling the straps of her bra back over her shoulders before running over to the spot on the supply shelf that she’s claimed as her own personal storage space. When she looks at the screen of her phone, she bristles, and I tense up, knowing exactly why. Lo turns her phone off completely, schooling her expression before walking back over to me.

She pushes on my shoulders and straddles my lap, but I stay still, my arms at my sides, hands resting on the leather cushion. Lo grinds on my lap and leans in to kiss my neck. My dick and my conscience are at odds, one wanting answers, the other wanting action. When her teeth sink into where my neck meets my shoulder, my conscience loses the battle and my hands fly to her ass, squeezing and guiding her movements. My hips shift, seeking the warmth between her legs. Lo slides off my lap, sitting in between my legs. She moves down my body, her delicate hands dragging down my chest and her lips follow. Her teeth tug on the small horseshoe-shaped piercing through my nipple as she goes for the button of my jeans once again. Lo gets my pants halfway around my ass before I muster up all my self-control to stop her, my hands covering hers.

“Stop.”

Wide eyes fly up to mine, hurt, and maybe a little offended. I groan, because the last thing I want to do is stop where this is going, and putting that look on her face is a close second.

“Who keeps calling you?” I ask point-blank. Her lips turn down, and a crease forms between her eyebrows.

“No one.” She’s on the defense again. Her default setting, I’m realizing.

“Don’t bullshit me, Lo.”

“It’s none of your business,” she says, wrestling her hands from my grip. She stands and picks up her discarded flannel. I know she’s going to bolt, so I stand between her and the door, blocking.

“The fact that you just tried to put your mouth on my dick says otherwise.” Okay. Not the best delivery, but the point stands.

“Fuck you,” she spits, trying to move around me.

“Lo. Stop.” I hold her shoulders, trying to get her to meet my eyes. “I’m just…fuck, I’m concerned for you, okay?”

“I can take care of myself,” she insists, her voice still full of steel.

“I see that. I know that,” I agree. “But it doesn’t mean no one else can give a shit.”