Bad Boys Do (15 page)

“Yes. I wasn’t going to say anything. I know it’s weird. But it’s why I can’t just…give in to you.”

“Olivia.” His hand covered hers, so much larger and darker that it made her heart skip. “I don’t want you to surrender anything. Not to me.”

He really had no idea. He was so damn
easy.
Easy to be around. Easy to want. Easy to love. And because he was easy, he could never understand how hard life was for other people. “I just want you to understand why I have to be on guard.”

His hand tightened on hers. “Okay. I think I get it.”

“Thank you.”

He inhaled as if he’d say more, but in the end, he simply put the car in gear and pulled out. Olivia watched the Ferris wheel turn above them, the white metal on fire with the sunset, and she wished they’d never come down.

J
AMIE TRIED HIS BEST
not to look as freaked out as he was. There was no reason to panic. Nothing had changed. Not really. Except that he now realized all the naughtiness he’d been coaxing from her…that hesitance hadn’t been simple modesty but true inexperience.

No, not inexperience, he assured himself. She’d been married for a decade. She was totally experienced.
Totally.

Except that he didn’t think he’d ever been with a woman who’d only been with one guy. Not that he’d known of. Certainly not after high school. He definitely hadn’t expected it from Olivia Bishop, she of sophisticated older woman fame.

He slid a look toward her, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed tired, crumpled a little in her seat. He’d originally planned on one more adventure this evening, but she definitely wasn’t up for a trip to the local erotic boutique. Hell, he wasn’t up for it, either. He couldn’t believe he’d done her outside in his hot tub. And bent her over a bed for a hard ride.

Blood crept up his face. He should’ve romanced her, not screwed her within an inch of her life. “I assume you’re too tired to go out for dinner?”

“Tired and messy. I think there’s dust stuck to my sunscreen.”

“How about dinner at my place?”

“You said you didn’t cook dinner.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a chef, but I do have an amazing list of take-out places tacked to the fridge door.” He finally dared a look at her just in time to catch her yawn. “I also have a very comfortable bed with fluffy pillows.”

“I remember. Would you let me borrow your shower? And maybe a T-shirt?”

Jamie kept his mind blank, afraid to think of her damp and clean and half-dressed. “Sure. Absolutely. Anything you want.”

“Then I’d love to.”

Romance,
he told himself. Hopefully he still had a bottle of wine in the pantry. Maybe he should buy some flowers or something.

When they got to his place, Jamie grabbed two dozen takeout menus and piled them on the kitchen table. “Choose anything you want. I’m going to jump in the shower really quick, and then it’s all yours.”

He showered in record time, then toweled off and yanked on clean underwear and jeans. His bedroom door opened as he was reaching for a T-shirt.

“Oh, you’re out,” Olivia said. “I was suddenly worried I was supposed to join you. Shower initiation.”

She’d never done it in a shower? Jamie fumbled the shirt, but managed to catch it before it hit the floor. He dragged it over his head as quickly as he could. “Ha! No. I’m in charge of food, remember? Did you make a decision?”

Olivia cocked her head. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

“You seem stressed. Are you still angry?”

“Nope. No way. I just felt rude leaving you out there. And I didn’t want to use all the hot water. And I’m starving.”

She shrugged. “Okay. How about Vietnamese?”

“Absolutely. Anything you want.”

“Anything?” she asked, her gaze dipping down his body.

Jamie was surprised by the hard twist of lust in his gut. He still felt nervous, but just the stroke of her gaze down his body, and blood rushed to his dick. There was some chemistry between them that had nothing to do with him teaching her how to have fun. It got stronger every time he saw her, as if each round of sex layered another degree of heat between them.

He suddenly didn’t give a damn about his nervousness. He was just glad she was here. By the time he’d ordered the food and grabbed his keys, Jamie had a new reason for rushing. Olivia was strolling back toward his bedroom, and he knew that if he heard her turn the shower on, he wouldn’t make it out the door. Shower initiation, indeed.

Yeah, his nervousness was definitely gone. The meaning of her revelation had finally sunk in. The things they’d done together, the things they would do…it was all new for her. She’d only ever been with her husband, in a serious relationship. Jamie was only the second man to touch her, to slide into her body. He couldn’t say that those sorts of things mattered to him, but he also couldn’t deny the wild grip of possession he felt.

“Fucking caveman,” he muttered, but his body didn’t offer even a twinge of regret. His role as mentor had just gained an unimaginable new intensity, and now that he’d shaken off his nerves, he couldn’t wait.

Half an hour later, as he unlocked his front door, he realized he’d never left a woman alone in his house before. It felt strange, walking in and knowing someone else was there. Someone who might be naked in his shower. Or maybe she’d changed her mind and decided on a long bubble bath. Maybe—

“Hey.”

Jamie spun to see her standing next to the couch, her long legs bare and smooth. His chest tightened at the sight of her in his dogs-playing-poker T-shirt. She wore her glasses with no makeup, and her hair was slightly wavy with damp. In short, she looked perfect. His gaze fell to the tiny hem of black fabric that covered her just past the bottom of the shirt. They looked like very short shorts. He squinted. “Are you wearing my underwear?”

She spread her hand as if to cover them. “I hope that’s okay. I didn’t have anything else.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine with that.” He held up the bag and gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Hungry?” She hurried ahead of him, offering the view he’d been looking for. Just as he’d expected, her small ass looked perfect in the soft cotton, especially when she leaned forward to clear a space on the table. “I got some plates and silverware out. What do you want to drink?”

You.
He cleared his throat and handed her the sack. “Here. I’ll get the drinks.”

He filled two glasses with ice water, then opened the bottle of red wine from the pantry. All the while, he could hear her behind him. The paper rustle of the bag. The clink of silverware.

His neck went warm with awareness. Jamie ignored the strange feeling and carried the glasses to the table. “So, tell me where you grew up,” he said as he waited for her to serve herself.

“St. Paul.”

“Sounds cold.”

A smile flitted over her face. “It was all right. I lived in a nice neighborhood, went to a nice school.”

“But?” There was no mistaking the weight in her voice.

“But…my dad was an investment broker. My mom was a real estate agent. They spent their free time investing in businesses. And I was a latchkey kid. A big house, but just me in it most of the time.” She shrugged. “That’s all. No abuse. No movie-of-the-week trouble. It was just quiet. And they expected a lot of me.”

“They’re still alive?”

“Yes, I just don’t see them very often. There’s no point, especially now that Victor is gone. They approved of him, so I was successful in their eyes. Now…back to disappointing. I’m sorry…I know you must miss your parents terribly….”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean you have to get along with yours.”

“That’s a relief.”

“So were you an overachiever in school?”

“Oh, boy. Was I ever. I was too busy for parties and boys. Being involved in a dozen after-school clubs tends to suck up a lot of time. What about you? What were you like?”

“Exactly what you’d expect I was like.”

“Hmm.” She studied him as if she really had to think hard about it. “I think you skated by with C’s. You were popular. Really popular. You went to all the parties. Got drunk a lot. Went to school late. But you were always respectful of your teachers. Always polite.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “All true, except for the drinking. I didn’t do that very often.” He said it as if it meant nothing, and Olivia took it that way.

“You? The heir to a brewery throne?”

“Well, beer is more like food. As long as you’re not doing keg stands.”

“Keg stands?”

He waved his hand. “Never mind.”

“And your brother took care of you?”

“Yeah. There was tension, though. Needless to say, I didn’t think I needed taking care of. I thought I’d be fine on my own. Of course, I wouldn’t have. We lived in my parents’ house. My sister still lives there.”

“When did you buy this place?”

He told her all about his house. The changes he’d made. The plans he still had. He loved this place. It belonged to him in a way nothing else in his life did. Hell, even his family was growing apart. He fought with Eric more than ever, and Tessa was in love and moving on.

“I’ve always been fascinated by siblings,” she murmured, pushing some noodles around on her plate.

“Yeah? You can borrow mine if you like.”

She laughed. “You know you love them.”

“I do, yeah. But the relationships are insanely complicated. The thing is…you think you know each other better than anyone else in the world. You grew up with these people, so you should, right? But it’s not that simple. Sometimes they know less about you than anyone else.”

Olivia set down her fork. “Like what?”

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to go there. He shook his head. “Nothing. Just little things. Like how I thought my sister was a sweet, innocent girl and now she’s shacking up with a jaded cop.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“You thought she was sweet and innocent? Why?”

Jamie groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it. As far as I know, they’re sleeping in separate bedrooms every night.”

“Oh, my God, you’re so cute. How old is she?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Olivia shrieked with laughter.

“Hey. She’s my baby sister.”

“Did I mention how cute you are?” she asked, bumping her knee into his.

“Eat your dinner,” he grumbled, tilting his wineglass toward her to urge her on.

Olivia leaned back with her glass, a big smile on her face as she propped her leg on his knee. Jamie tugged it higher, until her heel was snug against his hip and his fingers were wrapped around her ankle. Her skin was impossibly soft and warm. There was something about a woman’s skin…the feel of it so much more delicate than his own. He slid his hand up until his fingers brushed the back of her knee, and she sighed and leaned in to kiss him.

Somehow, she ended up in his lap, but Jamie kept the kiss soft and slow, letting her feel every movement as he slid his hand higher. Over her thigh until his fingers brushed the underwear she wore. He loved that she was wearing his clothes, and that would scare him if he wasn’t enjoying the feel of her so much. But Olivia was curving closer and his hand was sliding even higher on her tight thigh, and what the hell could it possibly matter if he felt possessive?

“Mmm,” she sighed, her hand slipping beneath his shirt. “I’m so glad we made up.”

“Not as glad as I am.” Her fingers brushed his nipple and he hissed.

“I love your body.” The words teased along his jaw. “I really, really love it.”

He groaned as her tongue traced along the edge of his ear. She’d never been so aggressive before. “Are you tipsy?”

“Maybe a little. Where do you want me tonight?”

“Where?”

Her husky laugh cooled the skin she’d licked. “In the shower? The hot tub? Right here on the table? I’ve never done that.”

She’d never done any of it, damn it, and the thought of it made him hard as a rock. “I kind of thought maybe we’d do it in the bed. I want it slow. And thorough.”

“Just a bed?”

“Yes. Unless you’d be disappointed.”

She laughed and slipped both her hands around to his back. Her nails pressed into his skin. “Never.” She began to suck at the perfect spot on his neck, waking every nerve in his body to glittering life. But just as he started to sigh, her mouth left his and she sat straight up.

“Wait a minute. This whole ‘slow in the bed’ thing isn’t because of what I told you, is it?”

He was sure that the guilt flashing over his face must glow like neon, but he tried to keep his expression blank. “Huh?”

“I made this weird, didn’t I? I knew that was going to happen!”

“Hey.” He took her hand before she could scoot off him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know…”

He tried his best for a confused look. “That? Come on. It takes more than that to throw me off.”

His lie had the exact effect he’d hoped for. The anxiety clouding her eyes cleared and he could see the awful vulnerability beneath. “Really?”

“I’m a bartender, remember? I’ve heard it all.”

She hesitated for one more doubtful moment before breaking into a smile. “Right. I forgot that you’ve heard everything already.”

He had. Everything from every type of person she could imagine. But that didn’t change how much this meant to him. “Listen,” he said, spreading his hands over both of her thighs. “If you want me to dress you in a French maid’s outfit and fuck you on this table, I will. But what I’d really like to do is carry you into my bedroom and have sex on a bed. Not because of what you told me earlier, but because it’s been a long day and you’re tired and my bed is really comfortable. And there’s nothing
not
exciting about horizontal sex with you. Um, not for me, anyway.”

Olivia closed her eyes and snuggled close again, laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “That sounds perfect.” After a quiet moment, she raised her head. “Do you have a French maid outfit just lying around?”

“No, it’s pressed and neatly folded.” He stood, picking her up as she threw her arms around his neck with a shriek. “Shh. I’m just trying to liven up this boring sex for you.”

“It’s not boring!” she cried, her words tumbling over themselves in laughter.

“Well, not now.” He carried her into the bedroom and tossed her onto his bed. She was still trying to catch a breath, so he took off his shirt and grabbed her ankle to pull her closer. His T-shirt rode up her body, exposing her flat stomach and cute little belly button. His black underwear hugged her hips like a glove.

“Shit, you look good,” he murmured.

She put a bare foot to his chest and nudged him. “Do you have any idea how much you turn me on?” Yeah, she was definitely drunk. Not that he was complaining.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Just looking at you makes me wet.”

He’d thought he was turned on already, but her words struck him like lightning.