Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, then realized she had no idea why she’d say no. She hadn’t been on a roller coaster since college, and why not? Because Victor hadn’t liked them. How pitiful was that? She’d seen the ads for the new coaster at Elitch Gardens. It looked amazing. “Okay. Yes. Sunday it is.”

A streetlamp caught them in its glow, and Olivia glanced up to see Jamie’s hair still mussed from her grip. She’d done that to him, and satisfaction filled her up at the thought.

Maybe she wasn’t so boring, after all. She certainly wasn’t boring around Jamie. So maybe his question was more significant than it seemed.

In the end, maybe Victor had been the one who wasn’t any fun. He hadn’t liked roller coasters, after all. Or country music. Or batting cages. Or board games. Or baseball stadiums. Or zoos.

Olivia had liked all those things when she was younger, and then… And then she’d met Victor.

But that wasn’t fair. She’d been twenty-two. It had been time to grow up, hadn’t it? She’d finished college. She’d been an adult. And adults did adult things like going to cocktail parties and attending the opera. Adults read important books and discussed politics and worked hard at supporting a spouse’s career.

Victor’s career.

So maybe she hadn’t been boring. Maybe she’d just been so busy trying to be what Victor had needed that she’d been…less. Less than everyone else. Less than those girls who caught his eye and held his attention.

Screw him. All this fun she was having, all this time with Jamie… Olivia hoped she was becoming more like herself every day.

“I didn’t want to teach,” she blurted out, saying into the dark what she couldn’t say in a brightly lit room. “I never even thought about being a teacher. I wanted to work on restaurant start-ups. I wanted to have my own business. The excitement of it. The risk. The challenge. That was how I wanted to have fun. Before.”

Before Victor, she meant. Before she’d acted like every other stupid girl in the world.

Jamie nodded, not saying a word, and she was happy about that. Happy, because saying it had felt good and she didn’t want to ruin it with figuring out why. She didn’t want to delve into cloying regret tonight.

When they came to the sidewalk that wound through her apartment complex, Olivia began to worry about what would happen next. Not the sex. She’d acclimated to that pretty quickly. But this

part, this awkward transition part, she didn’t know how to deal with. Should she invite him in? Should she just assume he’d follow her? Did she have to make it clear she wanted him to stay? Would he spend the night?

Olivia couldn’t believe people did this all the time.

“I’m impressed,” Jamie said. “You haven’t checked the time once.”

“I don’t want to know how late it is.”

“It’s late,” he said as they stepped up to her door. “Very late.”

Oh, God, did that mean he wanted to stay or go? How could she be so doubtful after they’d nearly had sex right on the street?

“Jamie,” she said as she opened the door. “It’s late, b—”

“Let me stay,” he urged, curving his arm around her waist before she could even turn back to him. “Let me stay.” He pressed against her back, his body fitting perfectly to hers.

“You’re kidding, right? I was going to lure you in and lock the door behind you.”

“Thank God,” he murmured, his mouth already searching out her neck. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Olivia dropped her purse to the floor and turned into him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt as his mouth found hers. It seemed weeks since she’d been in his bed. Months. She pushed his plaid shirt off his shoulders, then slipped her hands under his T-shirt. His skin felt five times hotter than hers as she slid her arms around his ribs. When she dragged her nails along his back, he jumped.

Too impatient for slow exploration, she pushed his shirt up. “Are you ticklish?”

“A little,” he said, his voice muffled by the cotton as he dragged the shirt the rest of the way off. She was busy tasting the heat of his chest. “Mmm,” she hummed, making his skin jerk. “Just a little ticklish?”

“Maybe more like a medium amount.”

“God, that’s so cute. How did I not notice before?”

“You were busy mauling me?”

“Right,” she whispered, distracted by the feel of the crisp hair on his chest. When she moved her hands down his sides, he shivered. “Sorry. I was only…” Olivia was too excited to keep speaking. Instead of explaining, she unbuckled his belt and popped open his button-fly jeans, one…slow…button at a time.