Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  What was that look she was giving him right now? Bo couldn’t decide if she was confused or curious or something else.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I said I’m taking you home, remember?” He stared at her, wondering if the helmet had cut off oxygen to her brain.

  “Oh, I remember that part,” she assured him. “What I can’t remember is the part where you asked me where I live.”

  Bo opened his mouth, about to remind her he knew exactly where she lived but then stopped, mouth still hanging open as he realized his mistake. He snapped his jaw shut. He knew where Sadie used to live. Eleven years ago.

  “My parents still live there, so you wouldn’t have been completely wrong,” she continued, as if reading his mind. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for my mom?” Sadie smirked. “To see me roll up on the back of a motorcycle?”

  Bo’s mood dipped. If Sadie believed Luna didn’t like her, Bo knew Sadie’s mother hated him. Maureen Goldovitz had made it clear Bo was not fit company for her daughter. Hell, the woman didn’t think he was fit company for her house. On the few occasions they’d interacted, she’d treated him like that dog Sadie used to have. “On the back of my motorcycle? She’d shit a brick.”

  “I’m not convinced my mother does that.” Sadie grinned. “Shit, I mean. It’s not ladylike.”

  Despite himself, Bo laughed, some of the tension easing out of him.

  “I’m thinking she’d be more likely to demand to see what tattoos I’d gotten,” Sadie mused. “What about you?” A curious glint flickered in her eyes as her gaze roamed over his body. “Do you have any tattoos?”

  Tendrils of lust snaked through Bo, curling at the base of his spine. He wanted her. His balls ached, heavy with need, cock stiffening in the tight confines of his jeans. If she kept staring, she was going to get an eye full for sure. But Bo stood his ground, determined to let her look as long as she liked. “See anything interesting?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  Sadie quirked an eyebrow right back. “Maybe you have one hiding where I can’t see it.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  Her gaze drifted over him again, scrutinizing his body, head to toe.

  Everywhere those violet eyes landed, Bo felt it like a brand on his skin. Fuck. She could tattoo him with just a look. “Tell you what.” He took a step toward her. “Why don’t you come back to my place.”

  “Your place?” Sadie drew back, eyes flaring wide. “Why?”

  “I was thinking,” Bo drawled, “maybe, if you ask very nicely, I’d show you my tattoos.”

  “Ha! You do have one! I knew it,” Sadie crowed. “Wait.” Her gaze darted to his. “Tattoos, as in, more than one?”

  Bo leaned in close, whispering low in her ear. “Only one way to find out.” With a wink, he moved past her and climbed onto his bike. The weight of her gaze was doing things to his body. Things he needed to get under control before she got back on behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, tilting his sunglasses, giving her the full force of his stare. “Well?”

  She licked her lips, chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Was she nervous? Probably. He sure as hell was. Bo couldn’t believe he’d invited her over to his place. But he had, and no way in hell he was backing down now. “Are you coming?”

  “How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

  “You don’t.” Bo cocked his head. “Get on the bike, princess,” he ordered.

  “Excuse me?” Sadie jerked her chin up

  “You heard me. Now, get on.” He revved the engine. “I dare you.”

  As Bo knew she would, Sadie crammed the helmet back on her head and got on.

  And just like that, his night got a whole lot more interesting.

  CHAPTER 12

  ON THE DRIVE into Chicago, Sadie had plenty of time to lose her nerve. More than once, she considered changing her mind. Several times she almost reached out to grab Bo’s thigh, give him the signal to pull over again, tell him to drop her off at home instead.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she kept her arms locked around his waist, holding on for dear life as he raced down the highway. It was a strange dichotomy of sensations, to feel simultaneously both terrified and safe. Familiar too.

  How many times had she sat behind him on a horse just so, legs straddling his, her breastbone pressed to his backbone, gripping his hips tightly as he galloped across the meadow. Only then, she’d watched trees pass in a blur while her cheek rested against the broad planes of his back. Now, Sadie watched buildings speed by from behind the muffled darkness of his motorcycle helmet.

  She should have insisted Bo wear the helmet. He was the one driving—the one sitting in front and taking the full brunt of air blasting him in the face while whizzing down the road at sixty-plus miles an hour. But it wasn’t just Bo’s comfort she was concerned about. Without the helmet in the way, she could close her eyes against the wind and tuck her face into the dip between his shoulder blades like she used to. Let his body protect hers. She longed to do it now. Ached to watch the world fly by while she hid, sheltered against him.

  Finally, he exited the highway. Dusk was creeping over the city, the streetlamps clicking on as he weaved through evening traffic. After a few more blocks, Bo slowed down and maneuvered the motorcycle into a narrow spot in front of an older brick building. He parked and cut the engine.

  Sadie eased off the bike gingerly. Her thighs felt like jelly donuts. Once she had control of her legs again, she stepped onto the sidewalk and removed the helmet, staring up at the building. “This is it?”

  “Yep.” Bo pointed to a large picture window on the second floor of the building. “Right up there.” He took the helmet from her and headed toward the walkway, leaving Sadie no choice but to follow.

  She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. “Hey, I know that place,” she said, recognizing the sign for the Rebellion brewery a little farther down the street. “We’re in Logan Square, right?”

  Bo nodded.

  “We’re actually not too far from my apartment.”

  “Really?” He punched a code into the security panel. “Where’s that?”

  “Lakeview.”

  “That is close.” Bo shook his head. “Who’d have thought.” A strange expression crossed his face.

  Did he feel it too? The sense that no matter what happened, no matter what they did, they’d been on a collision course, destined to crash into each other once more. Sadie was tempted to ask, but before she did, a buzzer sounded, releasing the security latch.

  “Let me guess.” Bo smirked, holding the door open for her. “You’re in one of those fancy new condos.”

  Sadie notched her chin up haughtily but didn’t answer him. There was no reason to. He was right, and she knew he knew it.

  “They’re nice enough, I suppose.” Bo shrugged. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “You mean a great view, new appliances, and a foyer that doesn’t smell like sausage?” Sadie asked, trying not to be offended, since she was, indeed, into that sort of thing.

  “My foyer doesn’t smell like sausage,” Bo argued.

  Sadie took a dramatic sniff.

  Bo inhaled and wrinkled his nose. “Fine. You’re right.” He led the way up the stairs, calling over his shoulder. “Some people might view that as a perk, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “People who really like sausage.”

  Sadie snort-giggled. “Look, I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with liking something fresh and shiny and new.” She followed him down a narrow but well-lit hallway.

  “And I’m just saying I like this old, smelly place.” At the end of the hall, he paused, digging in his front pocket for his keys. Unlocking the deadbolt, Bo twisted the knob and swung the door open. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He let her through, closing the door behind him.

  Not until she’d stepped inside his apartment did Sadie realize how curious she’d been to see where B
o lived. He flicked on a light, and she tried to look everywhere at once, wanting to absorb every detail. It was a loft space, not too big, but open and airy. She spotted the tall picture window she’d seen from outside and moved toward it, gazing out over the street below. While the view wasn’t awesome, it could certainly be worse.

  Sausage-scented foyer aside, it fit him, this place. Hardwood floors, rough-beamed ceiling, exposed brick. A galley kitchen lined one wall, and a punching bag hung from a rafter. A grin curved one corner of her mouth as she pictured Bo, shirtless, working the bag over, sweat beading on his chest, trickling down his body, trailing along those alleged tattoos he had.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, interrupting her thoughts and nodding toward the punching bag. “I’m not going to make you go a few rounds.” He gave her a smile dripping with sin. “Unless you want to.”

  “I’m good, thanks.” She swallowed, suddenly too warm, and unzipped his jacket. “And thanks for the letting me borrow this.” Sadie slipped the thick leather off her shoulders and held it out for him.

  “No problem.” He took the jacket from her, their fingers brushing. Electricity jolted up her arm.

  Sadie jerked her hand away, turning to examine the rest of the space. His decorating style could best be described as spartan. Aside from the punching bag, there were the requisite bachelor-pad leather couch and flat-screen TV. On the same wall as the picture window was a counter-height desk, a laptop, and piles of paper scattered across its surface.

  “This is a nice place,” she told him. “It looks good.”

  “You look good,” he said.

  The blunt observation caught her off guard. “Thanks,” Sadie mumbled, running a self-conscious hand over the top of her hacked-off hair. She felt the weight of his gaze as it moved over her, taking in the details of her appearance the same way she’d taken in his apartment.

  “Well,” she declared, covering her sudden bout of nerves with a show of bravado. “I came, I saw”—she wrinkled her nose and flashed him a teasing smile—“I smelled.”

  “Hilarious,” Bo growled.

  “I took your dare.” Sadie waggled her fingers at him. “Now stop stalling and pay up.”

  “Fine.” Bo lifted his T-shirt, twisting so she could see the inkwork trailing up the left side of his ribcage.

  It took Sadie a moment to even notice the tattoo, she was too busy noticing other details. Like all the toned skin suddenly on display. She cleared her throat. “Are those flowers?” Sadie leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she looked closer.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “It’s a thistle.” Her voice was so soft, it could barely be called a whisper. She lifted her chin, gaze questioning, knowing she was looking at him with eyes the exact shade of the ink coloring the spiky petals in his tattoo.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

  Bo remained silent. Golden tiger eyes giving nothing away.

  She returned her attention to his side. A second later she gasped. Nestled atop one of the thistle buds was a honeybee—tiny translucent wings fluttering right below Bo’s heart. She raised her face to his again, and this time there was no question in her gaze, because this time she knew.

  It wasn’t a coincidence.

  Sadie reached out, wanting to trace the delicate lines of the tattoo with her fingers.

  “My turn.” Bo shifted away from her, pulling down his shirt. “Truth or dare?”

  “But that’s only one,” Sadie protested. “I dared you to show me all your tattoos.”

  “Odd. That’s not how I remember it,” Bo tsked. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocky and smug. “I think you’re scared of what I might dare you to do.”

  “Hardly,” Sadie scoffed, lying her ass off.

  “Well, then?” Bo quirked an eyebrow at her. “Truth or dare?”

  She decided to retreat gracefully. Lose the battle but win the war. “Truth.”

  A triumphant smile spread across his face and Sadie wilted. He’d wanted her to pick truth.

  “Fine. Yes. You played me,” she groaned, admitting defeat. “What do you want to know?”

  His tiger eyes prowled down her body and back up again, slow and lazy, a cat in the sun.

  “What?” she asked again, her voice rising, demanding a response.

  “Do you remember, abeja? How it felt when I touched you?”

  “No.” Was it getting hot in this place?

  “Liar.” His voice was a throaty chuckle, low and dirty. “This is supposed to be a game of truth. Are you sure you don’t remember?”

  Sadie clamped her lips shut. She should tell him to go to hell. But she couldn’t even draw enough breath to answer his question. Which was fine, since denying it would only give him another excuse to call her a liar—and he’d be right. Of course she remembered what it felt like when he touched her.

  “I remember exactly how you felt the first time I touched you, abeja.” He reached up, one finger tracing the scooped neckline of her dress. “How perfectly you fit in my hand.”

  There was a flash of white teeth as he bit his full lower lip. The tip of his tongue peeked out, and Sadie’s nipples tightened in response. It was definitely getting hotter in here.

  Then Bo was touching her. His palms slid along her sides, grazing her ribs. His thumbs stroked slowly up, barely brushing against the sensitive undersides of her breasts. Sadie closed her eyes, aching for him to reach up and cup her. Slow, breathe in and out. Slow … easy … slow. Sadie took shallow, quiet breaths, not wanting to let him see how he affected her, not wanting to let him know how much she wanted him to keep touching her.

  But when she trained her gaze on Bo, the look in his eyes told her he already knew.

  “Okay.” She panted, trying to ignore the gentle pressure of his hands. “You win. I remember.”

  “Do you?”

  “You know damn well I do.” She scowled, the sexual frustration flooding her veins feeding her temper as well. “There. I gave you the truth. Now you owe me the other half of your dare. You were supposed to show me the rest of your tattoos. Remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” He brushed his thumbs up again, higher this time, almost reaching her nipples—almost. “I guess we’re both forgetful,” he murmured, continuing to stroke his thumbs back and forth along the tender undercurve of her breasts.

  Smart-ass. Sadie closed her eyes. Her lungs ached, her breasts ached. Worse, her heart ached, beating hard and fast, and her nipples were so rigid, she was surprised they hadn’t poked holes right through her fancy silk bra.

  Bo shifted the pattern of his touch, stroking up the slopes of her breasts, the pads of his thumbs coming closer and closer to her sensitive nipples, but never quite getting there. Reaching just high enough to tease without offering anything more.

  The tingling was drifting lower now, heat spreading through her, from her breasts down to between her legs. A moan escaped her throat. She wanted more.

  With Bo, she always wanted more.

  “What was that?” Bo asked, leaning toward her, head tilted with inquiry.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Sadie gritted through her teeth, holding back another moan as his thumbs came closer than they had yet. If he thought he could make her beg … well, he was probably right.

  She remembered how it felt to have him touch her, how her body fit with his, but she also remembered how it felt to touch him. The thought sparked an idea. Regaining a sliver of control, Sadie fought to gain the upper hand.

  “Actually”—she trailed her fingers along the waistband of his jeans—“I remember something else.”

  “Oh?” Interest flared, lighting his eyes with copper fire.

  “Mm-hmm.” Two can play at this game. Placing her palms on his hips, she began to brush her thumbs back and forth across the tight denim. Sadie mimicked Bo’s movements, her slow gentle strokes coming just into teasing range of the swell of his cock. “If I recall, you didn’t fit quite as perfectly in my hand.”

  His breathing
grew ragged.

  “But it was such a long time ago.” She furrowed her brow in mock confusion. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong.” She let her thumbs drift, the soft slow strokes barely brushing the hard ridge of his erection, trapped inside his jeans.

  He groaned, the guttural sound making her belly tighten, her panties instantly wet.

  Sadie had been enjoying turning the tables, but her plan was in danger of backfiring. She ached for Bo to touch her, but even more than that, she ached to touch him. Each time she stroked him, teased him, she teased herself too.

  Before she knew it, her fingers were working his belt buckle, tearing at the button on his fly, eagerly tugging the zipper down. Through the soft cotton of his briefs, she traced the hard outline of his cock with her palm, and it was exactly as she remembered, thick and hot, the length of him more than she could handle, even with both hands. One thumb slipped inside the tight waistband, stroking the satiny head.

  Another groan tore from Bo’s throat, raw and male.

  Sadie’s insides clenched at the sound, and she wrapped her fingers snug around his tip.

  He jerked, thrusting himself deeper into her hand, and a bead of moisture kissed the pad of her thumb. His body’s instant reaction to her was intoxicating. She circled the head of his cock, rubbing the slick stickiness into his skin, and he shuddered. Wanting to touch more of him, she moved to push his clothing out of the way.

  But before she could continue her explorations, he pulled back, out of her grasp. She reached for him again, but he stopped her, locking a hand around her wrist.

  They were both panting now, breath coming quick and sharp, chests rising and falling rapidly. Bo stared down at her, searching her face.

  She understood what he was asking. This wasn’t a game anymore. Where they were heading was dangerous. Sadie didn’t care. She wanted Bo, any piece of him she could get. Even if it was just here, just this moment, it was more than she’d thought to have of him ever again.

  “I’m guessing you don’t have any tattoos down there then,” she teased, keeping her tone light, determined to restore the playful mood.