You Might Be Bad For Me Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
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The second he sees my Allie Cat, he smiles wider. It’s a triumphant grin and it matches the one on my face when he gives me a nod.

“Aw,” Allison says as she walks toward the side wall where the barstools are set up, “I thought it was going to be empty.” She smirks after saying it and her eyes light up with mischief.

“Like I said, you’re a fucking tease.”

“And you like it,” she says back then lifts the cup to her lips. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, though.

I have to readjust my dick in my pants before I can sit down and watch the pool game.

“Admit it,” she says, her voice a bit stronger than I expected.

“Admit what?” I ask her.

“That you like it.”

“Yeah, so what if I do?” I tell her with confidence. “You already know that.”

“I just like hearing you say it,” she says and shrugs her small shoulders, making the dip in her collarbone that much more pronounced. The second she turns away from me, her cheeks color a beautiful shade and her legs sway. Like she’s shy all of a sudden, just hearing that I like her. I’ll keep that in mind, how easy it is to make her look like that. I like seeing this timid side of her.

“What else do you like to hear?” I ask her, and she just smiles slightly into her cup, tilting it back and taking a larger gulp. “I’ll tell you whatever you want.” My offer goes with the rest unspoken. I’ll give you what you want, you give me what I want. It seems fair as fuck to me.

“Is this the room?” she asks me curiously and tilts her head.

“The room?” I ask her to clarify and she slips her hand up my shirt. Her fingers tickle along my skin as she leans forward. “You know,” she says then licks her lower lip and adds, “the room where everything happens. Or is there an empty bedroom?” As she leans back, she takes her touch with her, leaving me wanting more and wishing there was a room to take her fine ass.

“I’m in the dorms, I don’t stay at the frat house.” She seems surprised by that, so I fill her in. “Kev’s uncle is paying my ride here to keep me out of trouble and Kev thought I’d make a good addition, but this isn’t really my style.”

“Then what is your style, Dean Warren?”

“Doing whatever I have to, so I can hear you say my name just how I’ve been dreaming.”

Her delicate simper widens, and I take a chance, setting my hand on her thigh.

“Oh, the first move has been made,” Allison says sarcastically but leaves my hand right where it is. She shifts on the barstool and it makes the thin fabric on her already short dress ride a little higher. My fingers are so fucking close to the hem, and just beneath that, the apex of her thighs.

“You like it,” I say and then pinch the hem of her dress and pull it down as much as I can before taking the cup from her hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t done,” she says and sulks but I ignore her, walking to the bar and grabbing the vodka and a can of Sprite. I hold it up for her to see and her eyes light up.

“I guess that’ll do,” she says with a devilish glint in her eyes.

I grab the whiskey for me and pour my own drink in a glass.

“No ice?” she asks when I hand her the drink I’ve fixed her and stand in front of her, effectively caging her in.

“You want ice in yours?” I ask her.

“I mean in yours,” she says softly, her voice a bit huskier than it was a moment ago. She says the words quickly as well. As though she’s afraid I’d mistake her questioning my drink for being unhappy with her own.

“No ice in mine. You like it?” I ask her, nodding to the drink in her hand and she nods back, biting down on her lip.

“Good.”

I watch as her breathing comes in harder. I let my left hand fall to her thigh and then slip slowly down, trailing my fingers across her soft skin before gripping the edge of the barstool she’s sitting on. Even with her up this high, I still tower over her. She’s a petite little thing.

“You come on strong,” she says, peeking up at me through her thick lashes. “Do you know that?”

I nod my head once and search her face for her reaction. “I don’t do small talk,” I tell her, thinking that’s what she wants to hear.

“What if I want small talk?” she asks me without any trace of humor in her voice.

I make a show of taking an exaggerated look out the back window and tell her with a smile, “The weather’s nice tonight.”


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