Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“No, it was just a celebration. I promise.”

Jamie eased up, balancing himself on his elbow so he could look down at her. His gaze rose, and she turned to meet it in the mirror. They watched each other for a long moment. It seemed easier to let her feelings show at this distance, so she let him see how it felt to her when he dragged his fingers slowly down her throat, over her chest, to the faint rise of her naked breast. He traced her nipple, eyes locked with hers the whole time as she let the vulnerability rush over her. He made her feel warm and sexy and nervous and sad. All of it.

His touch trailed to her other breast, then down to circle her navel, then up to her shoulders. Finally, he touched her chin, turning her face toward him. He kissed her so softly that she hardly felt it at all.

“I know you get up early. Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she said too quickly, alarmed that he might go. Her fast reply made Jamie smile.

“Good. Let’s cuddle.”

She smacked his shoulder and rolled up to her feet. “I’ll lock up. The bathroom’s there.” Though she started to reach for her robe, Olivia made herself stop and let her hand drop. Instead of covering up, she kicked off her heels and went to turn off the lights and check the door. It felt strange to wander naked through her living room. No one could see in—the blinds were all drawn—but still… She was nude, her skin cooling, her sex still swollen, and it felt daring. Maybe she’d do it more often. Maybe she’d become one of those people who cleaned house in the nude.

She smiled and snapped off the last light. When she returned to the bedroom, Jamie was already snug beneath the covers, tucked in on the wrong side of the bed. The opposite side of the bed her ex had slept in. Her smile stretched wider and she slipped beneath the comforter on the other side, enjoying even that moment of difference. He reached for her, pulling her close. Such a strange sensation being held from the left instead of the right.

“Wait,” she said, lurching up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just the light.” One long reach, and she plunged them into darkness.

She held herself stiff against him for a moment, but it was impossible to stay stiff with Jamie. He was warmth and relaxation, his body languid and sinking into the bed. By slow degrees, she melted into him. His hand stroked her hair. The scent of his skin filled her lungs. She could feel the press of her weight against him, and yet she was floating…suspended in the dark, anchored by him.

“Good night,” he murmured, the words deep with sleep. His breathing slowed. His hand grew heavy on her back. And Olivia let herself pretend that he was hers. Truly hers.

A terrible idea, but it was two in the morning, she’d had half a bottle of wine, and she didn’t give a damn about wisdom or prudence. Tonight she could pretend; tomorrow she’d get back to her responsible, grown-up life. For now, Jamie was all hers.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I’M WALKING IN RIGHT NOW,” Olivia said into her cell. She pretended she was squinting against the sun, but in reality, she was grinning so hard that her eyes nearly disappeared.

“You’d better not be lying,” Gwen said. “I tried calling you about ten times last night.”

“I was busy,” Olivia said, breezing into the building. The heels she’d worn were too high for work, but they made a satisfying riot against the marble floor.

“Oh, you were busy, were you? Filthy little witch. I hate you.”

Olivia’s laugh echoed down the hall, and she decided she’d better get off the phone before she disturbed the classes. “Are you busy right now?”

“No!”

“Okay, let me put my stuff in my office and then I’ll—”

“That will take too long. You’ll put your stuff down, check your email, check your inbox. Get up here right now or I’ll explode.”

“Fine. Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Gwen was still hooting when Olivia hung up and spun toward the hallway. Her progress was immediately interrupted by the hard shoulder she bumped into. “Oh, no,” she yelped. “Sorry.”

A man’s hand closed over her elbow to steady her. “No, it’s my fault,” he said as she turned toward him. He was handsome and maybe a few years older than her. “I was trying to sneak by without disturbing your conversation.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean I’ve become one of those obnoxious cell phone users.”

His smile made him look vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “Absolutely not. Then again, my standards have plummeted. Last year I went on a blind date with a woman who carried on a full-fledged text conversation during dinner. I’m Paul, by the way. Paul Summers. We met a few months ago.”

She must have still looked puzzled, because his smile faltered.

“I took over Johnson’s classes when he retired.”