was just my personal opinion, and everyone knew that there was always a little piece of the author in every book. I wasn’t the exception to the rule.
For the past hour, Donovan had listened to the whispers, most of them talking about how Kora had been the one to cheat on Sam, pushing him into Trina’s arms with her wandering ways. Part of him had wondered why the hell she didn’t step up and tell the truth. Still, somehow he’d managed to keep his mouth shut and not interfere. As long as they weren’t spouting derogatory remarks, he felt it unnecessary to intervene. And since he’d put the old guy in his place already, Donovan figured word was out about him.
But he was still trying to figure Kora out.
Now that he’d looked into those intriguing gray eyes for himself, he understood why. She’d been labeled already, and if he had to guess, she was rebelling in her own way. No lie, that was a fucking sexy trait right there. The bad girl rebel.
Definitely a bad girl.
My thoughts instantly drifted to Presley again. Was she a bad girl?
God, I hoped one day I would get the chance to find out.
Without remorse, Donovan allowed his gaze to slide over her, slowly. When she caught him staring, he offered her a smile. And when she didn’t move away, he decided to move closer. A lot closer. So close he could smell the sweet scent of her hair and feel the warmth of her arm against his.
Before he could speak, Kora turned to face him, her face lit up, her eyes glassy. She was intoxicated; he knew that already.
Her voice was a soft murmur when she said, “If you’re gonna ask me to meet you in the bathroom in three minutes so you can blow my mind with what you’re packing”—her eyes dropped to his fly, then moved back up—“then ask already.”
Holy fucking hell. That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to say, but Donovan would have to admit he was tempted. So fucking tempted.
Was Kora bluffing? I needed to figure that one out. I liked the idea of her making the first move, and it definitely shocked Donovan. He hadn’t expected that from her. These two characters would surprise one another at every turn. At least I thought they would.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Donovan smiled. “You think you can handle me?” Leaning in so that his mouth brushed her ear, he added, “Because what you’re asking for, Legs, will likely take awhile. Once I’m my cock is buried inside you, I get the feeling I won’t be able to stop.”
Her sharp inhale made his cock thicken, his body hardening as he waited for her to answer him.
“I think I can handle it,” she whispered, sounding more self-assured than he’d expected. “The question is … can you handle me?”
Donovan didn’t know the answer to that question, but in three minutes, he was damn sure going to find out.
Yes, Donovan was definitely going to find out, and honestly, I couldn’t wait until he did.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
I had slept for an hour and a half, but that was all I could muster. For whatever reason, I’d launched out of bed, taken a shower, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, along with shoes, and headed down to the coffee shop with my notebook and a pen.
Since a few minutes after five, I’d been sitting at a table near the window, sipping coffee and writing. For the first time in almost an entire fucking year, it seemed that the words were there. Flowing endlessly since last night. The sexy heroine was mixing it up with the bad boy hero, both of whom were ready to spontaneously combust, and I was anxious to see that happen.
“Fancy seein’ you here.”
I paused in my quest to set the scene for Kora and Donovan when I heard the familiar voice. Looking up, I saw Presley making her way through the tables with a cup of coffee and the same pink sketchbook she’d had the first time I’d seen her. Her head was still concealed, this time by an oversized black hooded sweatshirt. I had yet to see her without the hood, and I briefly wondered what she looked like without it.
Then I wondered what she looked like without clothes.
On my bed.
Beneath me.
Placing the pen on the table, I wrangled my thoughts and smiled back at her as I reached for my coffee. “Are you stalking me?”