Down to You (The Bad Boys #1)(29)
Author: M. Leighton

“I’d better get back, but thanks anyway.”

She’s good at hiding her disappointment. But not that good.

“Okay, well thank you. I really appreciate you coming to help. And for the ride home, too, of course.”

“Not a problem.”

“So, I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’ll be in touch.”

She nods again, slowly. Waiting.

“Well, goodnight.”

I love watching her, watching her uncertainty and her hesitation. And her attempts at denying what we both know she’s feeling. Teasing her is going to be so much fun. Hot, sweet, sexy, delicious fun.

I reach out and brush her hair away from her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Olivia.”

I rush to put my helmet on to hide my smile from her. I want her to be ready to beg for it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – Olivia

I walk away from Cash before I do something stupid like proposition him.

What the hell is the matter with you?

Before I get more than a few steps, I remember my car. I turn back to get Cash’s attention before he pulls away. I dig my keys out and take them to him.

I see his frown behind the smoky shield of the helmet. “Don’t you need them to get inside?”

“I’ve got a spare,” I explain.

He nods once and takes the keys, sliding them into his front pocket.

I give him a quick smile then hurry away. I refuse to look back at him, even though I know he’s still at the curb. I can hear the throaty rumble of his idling bike. But more than that, I can feel his eyes on me. I just wish they were his hands instead. And his mouth.

I shut my eyes as I reach for the spare key under the flower pot on the porch. It’s when I open my eyes to push it into the lock and open the door that I hear him accelerate away from the curb. I guess he was making sure I could get in okay without my keys.

Oh, good God! Don’t show me the sweet, considerate side! I won’t stand a chance.

After I get inside, I lean back against the door and stand there with my eyes closed until I can no longer hear even the faintest rumble of Cash’s motorcycle.

My legs and butt are tingling from the vibrations of the bike. The rest of me is tingling from being wrapped around Cash. Tingling or aching. Or both.

Frustrated—both sexually and with myself for my utter lack of hormone control—I flick on the light and push away from the door. The first thing I see is the vase of flowers on the coffee table in the living room. They are a bright spot of color in an otherwise fairly muted room. I walk to the spray of lilies and bend to stick my nose into one. It smells wonderful, but something pokes the corner of my mouth. It’s the card announcing who they’re from.

I reach for the tiny square. I feel bad reading Marissa’s “mail,” but then again, she shouldn’t leave it lying around. Or poking out of flower arrangements.

As I pull the card from the envelope, I chastise myself for inflicting more torture. I’m sure they’re from Nash. And I’m sure the card is probably some sweet little love note that will make me want to jump out of a tall, tall building, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m too curious, so I read it anyway.

And I get a surprise.

“Olivia, if you need anything give me a call. I’m never far. N.”

A little thrill races down my spine. He must’ve used Marissa’s keys to come inside and leave these for me. I can’t help but wonder if he just dropped them off and left or if he stayed for a few minutes. Or walked around. Or went into my bedroom.

I doubt Nash would do anything like that, and the thought that he might ought to creep me out. Only it doesn’t. The idea that he might’ve gone to look inside my bedroom excites me for some reason. And I’m already excited enough by his dangerous brother.

Feeling more and more like it’s vibrator time, I get ready for bed. A vigorous tooth-brushing and face-scrubbing don’t help that feeling. The brothers chase each other through my head, taunting me with their words and their eyes and their touch. By the time I slide between the sheets, I have no doubt what my dreams will be about. Or rather who my dreams will be about.

The click of the front door closing wakes me. Having just fallen asleep, it takes me a few seconds to determine whether I’m awake or not.

Strangely, I feel no fear when I see the tall, vague shadow stop just outside my bedroom doorway. I recognize it instantly. I’d know that shape and that fluid way of moving anywhere.

It’s Cash.

Or Nash.

I start to speak, but the words die on my lips when he moves slowly toward the bed. He stops at the foot. I’ve always loved how dark my room is until now. Now, I’d give anything to see him more clearly, for some clue as to which brother it is.

He bends and grabs the covers, dragging them off me. Chills spread over my arms and legs, partly due to the temperature change, partly due to the guy standing at the foot of my bed.

He says nothing. Neither do I. Instinctively, I know words will shatter the wicked perfection of the moment. And that’s the last thing I want to do.

With very deliberate movements, he reaches forward and winds his long fingers around my ankles. Slowly, he pulls me toward him, toward the end of the bed. I’m breathless. And excited. And still I say nothing.

His fingers loosen their grip, but his hands don’t leave me. No, instead, he slides his palms up the outsides of my calves to my knees where he stops. I see him bend forward then I feel his lips on my left thigh. They’re like a red-hot branding iron. His tongue flickers out to taste my skin sending heat gushing to my core.

“I can’t stop thinking about doing this to you,” he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him. “Tell me to stop now if you don’t want this. If you don’t want me.”

Even as he speaks, his hands are skimming the outsides of my thighs, sliding under the band of my panties. He pauses. Maybe he’s waiting for me to tell him to go. Maybe he’s rethinking what he’s about to do. I have no idea because I don’t know who’s in my bed. And at the moment I don’t care. I want both Cash and Nash. They both come with their own brand of trouble. Maybe not knowing which one I’m giving in to will be a good thing.

For tonight, I don’t care. I don’t think. I only want.

I feel his hands turn and his fingers curl around the elastic of my panties. He pauses a second time. I wonder again what he’s thinking and what I can do to make him continue. My answer is to lift my hips off the bed. I hear air hiss through his teeth before he drags my panties down my legs. It must’ve been the answer he was looking for.