The Reluctant Boyfriend (The Bad Boyfriend series Book 4) Page 13

  “I’ve had plenty of good sex. Rocked my world? I don’t know about that.” He did know he’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about this one. He’d never wanted to reach out and touch someone’s skin just to feel the sparks between them. Never wanted to kiss someone so badly it made his chest ache. Never paid so much damn attention to the way a woman laughed, talked…never wanted to hear every word that came out of her mouth. “No. I’ve never had that kind of sex.” But I bet I’d have it with you.

  She went quiet, her eyes closed. Her body went still. It looked like she’d fallen asleep.

  He watched her for a moment, her pale skin, that dark hair spilling all over the pillow, and all these strange feelings invaded his body. She thought she wasn’t sexy, but he knew she just hadn’t been with a man who did it for her. Because she had passion, and she threw herself into things. Yeah, she’d be wild, all right. She’d just never been attracted to her fiancé.

  He needed to get the hell out of her room. “Goodnight, Princess.”

  “I’m not asleep. Do I look like I’m sleeping?”

  “You look like a corpse.”

  “I’m trying not to move. If I move, I might fall off the raft, into the ocean. Is this a waterbed?”

  “No, sweetheart.” He heaved himself up. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

  She reached for his arm. “Stay with me. Just for a little. Please?”

  Not a good idea. Soon, she’d pass out, but he’d be wide awake with a raging hard-on. “Let me just hit the lights.” He got up and flicked off the switch, untied his boots and tugged them off, and then lay down beside her.

  “This is my first time on a waterbed.” On her side again, she shifted closer to him, hooking her arm under his and resting her head on his shoulder. “You smell good.”

  He figured if he stayed quiet, she’d fall asleep, and then he could get out of here.

  “Vanessa’s beautiful,” she said.

  “She is.”

  “And she’s smart. And successful. Is she special, too?”

  “Sure. Maybe not my kind of special, though.”

  “But I am?”

  He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “Yeah, Princess, you are.”

  She peered up at him, licking her lips. “Show me, Brodie. Just once, I want to be special to someone. I want…I want to feel it.”

  Like hell he’d deny a request like that. Pulling out his arm, he hitched up on an elbow and took her in. Her features softened with lust, those lips the color of ripe raspberries, and those eyes—those fucking eyes that looked at him like he was already licking her love button.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, felt the restless shift of her legs. Oh, yeah, she’d be wild. Not that he’d ever find out.

  Just one kiss. A simple, basic kiss.

  Her scent, a mix of Nocturne and whatever essence rose out of her heart and soul, connected with something deep inside him in a powerful way. In a way that had him locked into place with her. Why did this woman feel so right in his arms?

  Fuck it. I’m going in. He brushed his lips over hers, intending to keep it clean, light, but that sexy mouth opened for him, and he fell inside her lush, wet heat. It was tentative, a little awkward, but the moment their tongues touched, a riot of sparks burst in his chest.

  She tasted like tequila and a hint of salsa, her mouth velvety soft and warm. Her hands came around the back of his neck, kissing him with wild abandon, as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. Her fingernails scraped across his scalp, and as the kiss deepened, turned carnal, she gripped a fistful of hair and pulled.

  Jesus. Everything he’d held back—all the lust and desire and frustration he felt around her—crashed over him, and he lost it with the clutch of her desperate fingers. The moment he rolled over her, pushing a thigh between hers, she rocked against him, rubbing her core against his cock.

  Oh, fuck. He wanted her. His whole body was bursting with want for her.

  But then she cried out, and he snapped out of it, jerking away.

  She looked at him in horror, like she’d done something wrong.

  “You’re sexy as fuck, Princess. Never doubt it.” He rolled off the bed, grabbed his boots, and got the hell out of there.

  Chapter Eleven

  With country music playing on the speakers, Rosalina took in her reflection in the mirror. The jeans fit all right, she supposed, but the blouse stretched tight across her chest, the pearl snaps barely closing.

  You know what? I hate it. She hated everything she’d tried on so far.

  Unzipping them, she jerked the pants off her hips—fast, like they were covered in fleas. She eyed one final pair folded on a chair. Why bother? It’s just more of the same.

  Why am I so restless? So irritable? It’s just clothes.

  She remembered Brodie’s words last night.

  Sexy as fuck.

  Yeah, that was why. Because of Brodie. That kiss. He’d told her she was sexy, and it had nothing to do with the way she dressed or wore make-up or how much skin she showed.

  You’re sexy as fuck, Princess. Never doubt it.

  She believed him. His arousal pressing between her legs had proved it.

  Same with the way he’d kissed her. God. It had started with the brushing of lips, so soft and sweet. She’d thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. But—just like that—it had turned carnal. He’d been so hungry for her. And it had made her desperate and hot, swollen and wild.

  It had been so good. But she’d barely gotten to touch him when he’d pulled away.

  Still…

  Brodie Bowie thinks I’m sexy as fuck.

  The problem was, she needed to feel it. And she didn’t in these jeans that looked like something she’d wear to muck out stalls in a barn. God, why is it so hot in here? She couldn’t stand to wear this ill-fitting shirt one more second. Yanking it off, she hurled it onto the pile of clothes she’d discarded.

  “How’s it going?” Skylar asked. “Can I see?”

  “No. I’m not…There’s nothing to see…” She sounded as frustrated as she felt.

  “Okay, open the door and let me in.”

  “Just a second.” She had to unearth her stupid, boring beige capri pants. Shoving her leg in felt like stepping into a smelly dumpster. Her whole being resisted. This isn’t me. But she threw on her cotton boat-neck shirt and opened the door.

  “I brought you…” Sky’s jaw snapped shut, as she took in the mess in the dressing room. “Okay, someone’s obviously ransacked your dressing room. I’m going to get security.” And then she looked at Rosalina, and her humor turned to compassion. “I brought you these, but they’re more of the same, so I’m just going to put them over here.” She stepped back out of the room and placed the shirts on the hanging rack. Coming back, she closed the door. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing fits.”

  “Like, literally, out of this entire warehouse, not a single thing fits you?” Skylar eyed the mountain of clothing. “Or maybe this isn’t your style?”

  “I mean, I want to fit in here, but no, this isn’t my style.”

  And, really, wasn’t she just trading in the princess costume for the cowgirl one?

  “That’s the beauty of the wild, wild west,” Skylar said. “Nobody cares what you wear. I’ll bet that’s why so many wealthy people own homes here, because they can totally let their hair down.”

  She desperately wanted to ask about Cassian, but she’d never break Brodie’s confidence, so she kept her mouth shut. But, come on, Cassian Ellis lives here.

  And he’s Skylar’s cousin.

  “Rosie, you can be whatever you want here,” Skylar continued. “You want to be your glamorous and sophisticated self, do it. You want to wear sweatpants to the grocery store, no one’s going to blink an eye.”

  “What I want is to have a style.” She took in Skylar’s mix of vintage and high-end fashion. “You never look like you’re wearing a costume. It looks like every piece is c
hosen with care. Like there’s a story behind each piece.”

  “That’s true, but it’s because I’m an image consultant. No one would hire me if I showed up in jammies and flip flops. I have to look like I know my own style. For me, that takes a lot of work. But, for you, it’s effortless. You’ve got panache, and I think it comes from your confidence.”

  Confidence. Brodie had used the same word last night. It’s what makes me sexy. “You know what? I’ve never cared all that much about clothes. But I think…I think I just want to be more intentional, you know? I want to choose the food I put in my mouth.” Instead of sitting down to a meal Chef had prepared. “And try on clothes until I find the thing that makes me excited. If you were my image consultant, where would you take me to shop?”

  “It sure as hell wouldn’t be Western World Warehouse. Come on. Let’s clean up this mess. I’ve got a boutique you’re going to love.”

  With her iced coffee in hand, Rosalina crossed under the antler arch into the town green. Loads of people were out. Children chasing each other across the lawn, families eating ice cream cones on benches, and a big group having a picnic in the gazebo.

  She took a sip of the sweet drink. “You’re smart, making me take a break before going into another store.”

  “That’s because I have a three-year-old, and I understand tantrums.”

  She nearly choked on her coffee. “I didn’t have a tantrum.”

  “Tantrum, melt-down, whatever word works better to describe someone who’s sweating in an air-conditioned dressing room surrounded by an explosion of denim and pearl buttons.”

  Rosalina laughed. “Okay, that’s fair.”

  “But, since it was you, it was a very lady-like melt-down.”

  “I was a little frustrated.”

  “There isn’t a woman alive who hasn’t felt that way in a dressing room. Especially when it comes to bathing suits and jeans.”

  “Yeah, but before my ex cheated on me, I felt so sure of myself. Now, I feel like I’m questioning everything.”

  “Well, you want to live with more intention, so that might be a good thing. It’s easy to fall into a rut, you know? We fall into routines, because it’s easiest that way. Like, if you’re a student you wear leggings and sweatshirts, and if you’re a lawyer you have a closet full of suits and ties and white shirts. Routine makes it easier.”

  “I’m in a rut, for sure. And I think part of my frustration is that I’m angry with myself for never questioning it. While my ex…” Oooh. That was the first time she’d called him her ex out loud. She’d made it official. And it felt right. No residual doubt or guilt. “While he was trying ‘new things,’ I was blindly going along with the plan.” Numbly, if she were perfectly honest with herself.

  “And, so now, you’re in a new environment, and you get to figure out what you like. It’s a good thing. If the bolo tie doesn’t work for you, scrap it and keep looking. Don’t settle.”

  Even better, she’d gotten to kiss a man who made her toes curl.

  That’s what I like. Kissing Brodie.

  Four men came out of the diner, laughing and talking, and it was like the entire downtown area stopped to watch them.

  Taller, broader, and more muscular than anyone around them, the Bowie brothers strode across the street like rock stars. With their dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, and tan skin, they had the attention of every single person in the park.

  But she only had eyes for Brodie. Even though he was clean-cut next to his two younger brothers, he still gave off a gruffly masculine vibe. Like he’d toss a woman on a mattress, jerk off her knickers, grab behind her knees, and yank her right up to his hips.

  She could almost feel his erection right there, between her legs, and she about jumped out of her skin.

  “You and Brodie, huh?”

  “What? No.” Her throat seized up at the exact moment she swallowed her mouthful of coffee.

  “You okay, there?”

  But she couldn’t answer, because she was having a coughing fit. Which, of course drew the guys’ attention. Brodie said goodbye to his brothers and came sauntering over.

  “Would you stop being such a badass already?” Skylar asked him. “Look what you’ve done.”

  “It’s cool.” He smiled at Rosalina, whose eyes were now tearing. “I get this reaction all the time.”

  “Is it weird that he brags about making someone gag?” Rosalina asked, voice scratchy from the coughing fit.

  “Y’all, there is way too much sexual tension going on between you two,” Skylar said. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got a client in twenty minutes, and Rosie needs to hit one more shop. Do you think you could give her a ride home?”

  She waved her hand at him. “You don’t need to wait around. I can call for a car.”

  “How long does it take to find a couple pairs of pants?” He glanced down at their hands. “You haven’t started shopping yet? I thought you’d be done by now.”

  Affection warmed her. He’d dropped her off in town over two hours ago. He must’ve been passing time, waiting for her to finish shopping. He wanted to drive her home.

  “It took her a solid hour and a half to figure out she’s not a cowgirl. But, trust me, she’ll find what she’s looking for at Pretty in Pink. Do you know where that is? A block south of town on Everett?”

  “I got it,” Brodie said.

  “You go.” Rosalina hugged Skylar goodbye. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for spending the morning with me.”

  “My pleasure.” Her friend pointed a finger at Brodie. “Don’t rush her. It’s more than a pair of pants, and you know it.” With a wave, she set off for her studio.

  Leaving her alone with the man who’d kissed her senseless the night before. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” A lovely breeze skittered across the green, shaking the leaves on the trees. It lifted strands of his hair, reminding her that she’d grabbed fistfuls of it.

  And pulled.

  Oh. My God.

  I’m sorry if I hurt your scalp, but from the way your kiss turned frantic I’m thinking it didn’t bother you all that much.

  “I grabbed a bite with my brothers. No big deal.” He tipped his chin. “What’re you smiling about?”

  I liked kissing you. I want to do it again. Only this time without clothes. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “You miss me?”

  “Actually, I want your opinion. Want to come shopping with me?”

  The way he studied her made her think she had whipped cream on her mouth. Delicately swiping either side with her fingers, she tossed her drink into the garbage can. He still looked like he was trying to read a hidden message on her face.

  “Never mind. I’m sure you’ve got a ton to do. I’ll just call for a ride when I’m done. I’ll see you back at the house.” She turned to go, but Brodie’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back. She stumbled and had to catch herself with a hand against his hard chest.

  “Yeah, I want to come shopping with you, but what’s she mean, ‘it’s more than a pair of pants, and you know it?’ Is this about the douchenozzle? You looking to buy clothes that make you feel sexy? I thought I kissed the doubt right out of you.”

  “And we had such a great run of not addressing my drunken behavior. Come on, let’s get me some clothes.” They headed across the park, both of them ducking to avoid the Frisbee coming straight at them.

  “Sorry,” the woman who’d thrown it called.

  With jaw-dropping grace, Brodie snatched it out of the air and flung it right back at her.

  “Show off,” Rosalina said.

  “Damn, it’s not easy to impress a princess.”

  “You’ve done an okay job so far.” Waiting for a car to pass, they stepped off the curb and crossed the street. “Well, at least I’ve checked get drunk and dance on tables off my list.”

  “I didn’t see you dance on any tables.”

  “It’s just an expression.”

  “Not in C
alamity, it’s not. We take that shit seriously. What else’ve you got on that list? We live under the same roof, so I want to be prepared.”

  “You’re safe with me.”

  “Not so sure about that.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Still raw where you about snatched me bald last night.”

  As they reached the sidewalk, she burst out laughing. “Would you stop? If I’m not getting drunk anymore, you don’t need to worry about me messing up your hair ever again.”

  “Shame. That was kind of fun.”

  “Yeah, that tube of bologna sitting on my leg gave me that impression.”

  “Tube of bologna?” He threw his head back and laughed.

  Joy bubbled through her. To make Brodie laugh…God, it felt good.

  “Man, you’ve been hanging out with Sky way too much.”

  “No, that came from my college roommate. As for my list, I don’t have anything specific. I’m on borrowed time, and I want to do all the things I’ve never been able to do because of who I am.”

  “Get it out of your system, because soon as you get home, you’re going right back into the role of dutiful princess?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you’re not marrying the douchenozzle, are you?”

  “Uh, after that kiss last night…that’s a hard no.” She slapped a hand over her mouth and tipped her head back. “Shut up, Rosalina.”

  He pulled her hand away. “Your honesty’s one of the best things about you.”

  “Well, sure. Because it feeds that gigantic ego of yours.” They stopped in front of a brick storefront. Ivy climbed the walls, arching around the plate glass windows. A pale pink and gold sign said, Pretty in Pink. “This is the place.”

  He stepped forward and held the door open for her. He stood so close that as she walked past him, her shoulder brushed his chest. She glanced at him to apologize but found she couldn’t look away. He’d shaved that morning, yet already had a shadow of a beard. She loved the dimples bracketing his mouth.

  That mouth. Her gaze dropped to his full, sensuous lips, and the memory of the way they’d tasted slammed her.