Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,78

bad butterfly.”

He chuckles and returns to his work. I watch him change the drill bit on his power tool and my heart thunders in my chest.

I have to keep talking to distract myself from the overwhelming urge I have to tackle him to the ground and force him to continue what we started earlier.

“So, does being your girlfriend come with any perks?”

He sends me a smoldering glare over his shoulder. “What do you mean? Outside of the bedroom?”

Oh Jesus, I am going to die.

I clear my throat and look anywhere but at him. “No, I mean, like…you’re Ben Rosenberg—surely dating you comes with free admission to amusement parks, float privileges in the Fourth of July parade, etc.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I just want to know if I get some kind of airline miles or rewards points when I dine out at the restaurants your family owns.”

“So it’s true, you’re only dating me for the power and privilege it provides?”

I shrug and add a little frown for emphasis. “’Fraid so.”

Then, I hold up another bite of noodles and he accepts eagerly, fully aware that I’m kidding.

A few minutes later, he’s all done installing the deadbolt. He stands and brushes his jeans off then leans down to help me up too.

“How did you learn how to do this stuff?”

“My dad and I would do little things around the house when I was growing up. The old Victorian homes around here need a lot of upkeep.”

I test out the lock and it slides perfectly into place. We’re both locked in here. My evil plan has worked. I twist around and aim a pretty smile his way. If I knew how to bat my lashes without looking like an idiot, I would.

“Stay the night?”

He laughs as he heads to the bathroom sink to wash his hands. “You’re kidding. That futon is barely big enough for you. I have work in the morning. I need actual sleep.”

I try not to let his rejection go to heart. He’s not turning me down, he’s just saying no to my slightly underwhelming abode.

“Besides, I’m trying to force you to see reason and come stay with me. I have a king-sized bed, two guest rooms, a really comfortable couch—all of those are better options than that futon.”

I scrunch my nose, annoyed at myself for wanting to cave. Does sleeping on a futon in this apartment make me any more independent than if I was sleeping with him in his big, comfy bed? Ugh.

He walks out of the bathroom and finishes collecting his tools.

“If you insist on staying here for a while, I’ll see about putting up a camera outside and maybe replacing that door. The deadbolt isn’t much more secure than the previous lock. If someone wanted to, they could still just kick the door down. It’s flimsy.”

I nod and walk toward him, wrapping my arms around his middle. My ear is against his chest and I can hear his heart hammering. I close my eyes for a moment.

“Thanks for the lock and for sharing this very fancy dinner with me.”

He kisses my hair and then I lift my chin to receive a second kiss on my lips. We both keep it short and chaste, but there’s an underlying hunger that nearly splits me in two. I wish he were staying the night.

He groans, runs a hand through his hair, and then makes his way to the door. I shoo him out with plans to see him tomorrow and then steal one last quick kiss. I close the door and lock it behind him.

This sucks.

For some inane reason, I want to cry.

I have to listen to his feet carry him down the stairs, his car’s engine rev to life, his tires kicking up gravel as he drives away, and then…his car pulling back up to my apartment, engine dying, car door slamming, feet thundering up the stairs. I undo the lock and he’s there, laughing and kicking the door closed behind him.

“I guess one night won’t kill me, right?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me up off the floor.

Oh my god, I’m going to attack him. My arms are around his neck and I’m kissing his jaw, his forehead, the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

My mouth finally finds his, and it’s just like before, in the storage room. We’re so anxious and starved, we’re not so much kissing as we are consuming. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I moan, tilting my head, somehow still wanting