Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 1: Drake by Alexis Adaire Page B

That’s most of what you meet in this town, and I’ve always thought those types are better for fucking.”
    Then he looks right at me and says, “Now I’m not so sure. I kind of like having a woman who can hold my interest with her brains.”
    Is he talking about me? “So now you like smart skinny women?” I ask.
    “I am currently reassessing what makes a woman perfect,” he says.
    I’m determined not to let him off the hook. “So in Drake Manning’s world, a woman doesn’t necessarily have to be skinny to be fuckable?”
    Manning knows I have him pinned. He squirms, reaching for the right thing to say.
    “Would you call yourself skinny?” he asks.
    “Hardly.”
    “Well I’m dying to fuck you.”
    I feel my breath catch in my throat. “The question wasn’t about you and me, Drake. It was about you and other women.”
    “There are no other women at the moment,” he says. “And you’re dying to fuck me, too, aren’t you?”
    I laugh at the absurdity of there being “no other women.” It’s ludicrous on so many levels, and such an obvious player’s line.
    “Answer the question, Allie,” he says. “Honestly, as per our agreement.”
    “What question?” I honestly don’t remember hearing one.
    Before I can react, his arms are around my waist and he’s pulling me into him. His lips touch mine and I find myself in the middle of another of those amazing kisses. This time I slide my hands behind his neck and give in fully. Goddamn, this man smells so sexy, so masculine. My pulse races and our tongues seem to match each other perfectly. I actually feel a twinge of sadness when he finally pulls away to look into my eyes.
    “Aren’t you dying to fuck me, too?” His arms are still wrapped around me, and my hands slide down to rest on his rock-hard biceps.
    We have a brief stare-down. Dammit, why is this man so ridiculously attractive?
    “I wouldn’t say I’m dying to,” I say. “But, yes, I have entertained the thought.” Entertained the thought? I can’t seem to get it out of my head! My breasts are pressing against his chest again, a feeling I could definitely get used to.
    “Let’s go get in my bed,” he says.
    “No,” I say, my stomach suddenly tight. “Not until I write this piece. I can’t have that between us.”
    “I leave for Rome tomorrow.”
    “Are you afraid if you don’t get me in your bed now, I’ll change my mind?” I ask. Actually, I very well might. Give me a few days away from Drake Manning to catch my breath and let my body stop tingling, and I could very well decide sleeping with him is a very bad idea.
    “Maybe,” he says. “Show me your tits.”
    What the hell?
    “Excuse me?”
    “You heard me, let me see them.”
    For the first time, I think I can actually feel his smile between my legs. “And why would I do that?”
    “Because my friends saw them and told me how amazing they are, and I’m jealous that I didn’t get to see them.” When he sees my nonplussed reaction, he says, “And because I want to have a mental image of you to take with me to Rome, something insanely hot I can think about when I’m jerking off until you finish the interview and fly out to meet me there.”
    “Am I supposed to think there won’t be a line of skinny, dumb Italian women waiting to bed you?”
    He knows I’m right. “Allie, you’re killing me. Don’t you—“
    “Shut up and kiss me again, Drake.”
    He does, and it’s as delicious as the first two. Maybe even better.

9
    Drake
    D amn , this chick can kiss. Usually for me, a kiss is merely a quick prelude to a woman dropping to her knees to put my dick in her mouth. This time, though, I’m in no hurry to get there.
    “I should go,” she says, pulling back. I sense her will evaporating and am confident I’ll be inside of her soon. I keep my arms around her waist and look down at her. I’m surprised to notice those dark brown eyes hint at a depth behind them I’m not accustomed to.
    “Please,” I say.