Read Online A Bad Boy is Good to Find by Jennifer Lewis - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Lewis
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the back of his shirt and slid her fingers under it, traced the straight line of his spine and dug her fingertips into hard muscle.
He shifted his hips, pushed his body against hers so she could feel his arousal. Instant, like her own. She pressed her breasts to his chest, nipples straining her bra. His cupped hand on her buttock lifted her, deepened their kiss. He ground his hips against her, and she pushed back, harder.
She sat on top so he was the one lying in the dirt. She kept her eyes open, watched his face as she increased the rhythm and intensity and took them both to the quivering edge.
His hands explored her body with that familiar touch that felt like a celebration of every inch of skin, every curve. Soft groans tickled her ears as she leaned to lick his closed eyelids, graze his neck with her teeth. She had to struggle to keep her head, not go adrift in arms that felt so loving.
He never opened his eyes. Trust? Or because he didn’t want to see her? Wanted to imagine she was someone else the way he pretended he was?
She sensed his climax coming with a thrill of power. She’d never stayed so detached during sex. She discovered she could enjoy the pleasure but not lose herself in it. Keep emotion tightly buttoned down as sensation surged to her toes.
As Con came, hard, with a low animal sound and his eyes squeezed tight, she faked her own orgasm. Loud breathing, a high pitched moan. Her eyes open the whole time.
She’d never done that before. Could he tell? If so he didn’t say. This was the new Lizzie, the one she planned to forge herself into. The one who knew how the world worked and played it her way.
The one who could rip arrows out of her chest and throw them on the ground without feeling anything like the agony ripping through her right now.
She climbed off him, her hands trembling.
“Hey, where are you going?”
She put her pants back on. Con was one of those supposedly rare men who actually like to cuddle and caress after sex. He loved nothing more than being entangled under warm sheets, snoozing, whispering and hugging. If anything she’d say he was more blissed out by that than by the act itself.
But she’d show him what he could do with his pity.
She inhaled a shaky breath. She wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of enduring this much pain, but here she was, still alive.
What else was she capable of? She intended to find out, and Con would learn too—the hard way.
Chapter 6
L izzie squinted in the sun, keeping her distance from the edge of the canyon. “So, what is that thing on your butt?” She stared at the tattoo as it disappeared into a pair of neatly pressed pants. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply. Probably had a deal with the Devil that banished wrinkles from his wardrobe.
“A flaming dagger.” He pulled a gleaming white shirt from his bag and shook it out.
“A gang tattoo?”
“Kind of. Protective coloration.”
“On your butt?”
“It’s a long story. Better there than on my face, right?”
“Was that before or after you went to reform school?” She dragged out the last two words. Con didn’t look at all ruffled. He whipped out a comb and slicked back his hair.
“During.”
“Must have been a nice place.”
“Very educational, let’s put it that way.”
“Is that where you learned how to lie, cheat and steal?”
Now he looked hurt. He tucked the comb back in his bag. “I didn’t do any of those things.”
“You told me that tattoo was a family crest. That’s not a lie?”
“A gang is a kind of family.” The half-smile that crept across his face let her know he didn’t think he was fooling anyone.
“Don’t snow me with semantics, please. I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. How did you end up in reform school anyway?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Everything’s a long story with you. I’d like to actually hear one of them.”
“Maybe another time.”
He zipped up his bag. Slipped his bare feet
He shifted his hips, pushed his body against hers so she could feel his arousal. Instant, like her own. She pressed her breasts to his chest, nipples straining her bra. His cupped hand on her buttock lifted her, deepened their kiss. He ground his hips against her, and she pushed back, harder.
She sat on top so he was the one lying in the dirt. She kept her eyes open, watched his face as she increased the rhythm and intensity and took them both to the quivering edge.
His hands explored her body with that familiar touch that felt like a celebration of every inch of skin, every curve. Soft groans tickled her ears as she leaned to lick his closed eyelids, graze his neck with her teeth. She had to struggle to keep her head, not go adrift in arms that felt so loving.
He never opened his eyes. Trust? Or because he didn’t want to see her? Wanted to imagine she was someone else the way he pretended he was?
She sensed his climax coming with a thrill of power. She’d never stayed so detached during sex. She discovered she could enjoy the pleasure but not lose herself in it. Keep emotion tightly buttoned down as sensation surged to her toes.
As Con came, hard, with a low animal sound and his eyes squeezed tight, she faked her own orgasm. Loud breathing, a high pitched moan. Her eyes open the whole time.
She’d never done that before. Could he tell? If so he didn’t say. This was the new Lizzie, the one she planned to forge herself into. The one who knew how the world worked and played it her way.
The one who could rip arrows out of her chest and throw them on the ground without feeling anything like the agony ripping through her right now.
She climbed off him, her hands trembling.
“Hey, where are you going?”
She put her pants back on. Con was one of those supposedly rare men who actually like to cuddle and caress after sex. He loved nothing more than being entangled under warm sheets, snoozing, whispering and hugging. If anything she’d say he was more blissed out by that than by the act itself.
But she’d show him what he could do with his pity.
She inhaled a shaky breath. She wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of enduring this much pain, but here she was, still alive.
What else was she capable of? She intended to find out, and Con would learn too—the hard way.
Chapter 6
L izzie squinted in the sun, keeping her distance from the edge of the canyon. “So, what is that thing on your butt?” She stared at the tattoo as it disappeared into a pair of neatly pressed pants. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply. Probably had a deal with the Devil that banished wrinkles from his wardrobe.
“A flaming dagger.” He pulled a gleaming white shirt from his bag and shook it out.
“A gang tattoo?”
“Kind of. Protective coloration.”
“On your butt?”
“It’s a long story. Better there than on my face, right?”
“Was that before or after you went to reform school?” She dragged out the last two words. Con didn’t look at all ruffled. He whipped out a comb and slicked back his hair.
“During.”
“Must have been a nice place.”
“Very educational, let’s put it that way.”
“Is that where you learned how to lie, cheat and steal?”
Now he looked hurt. He tucked the comb back in his bag. “I didn’t do any of those things.”
“You told me that tattoo was a family crest. That’s not a lie?”
“A gang is a kind of family.” The half-smile that crept across his face let her know he didn’t think he was fooling anyone.
“Don’t snow me with semantics, please. I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid. How did you end up in reform school anyway?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Everything’s a long story with you. I’d like to actually hear one of them.”
“Maybe another time.”
He zipped up his bag. Slipped his bare feet
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