Dream & Dare Read Online Free PDF

sides were so firm, like iron, that she found her hands sliding around, over his belly. None of the men she hung out with these days were muscular. A few had nice bodies, but they were skinny-nice, not strong-nice. This guy’s body was strong-nice. By the end of the first block, she was snugged up tightly to his back and thinking very un-Baptist thoughts.
     
    And that was crazy. Gina wasn’t coming home tonight, apparently. Bibi absolutely could not let this strange man into the apartment. This strange man who had a knife. A switchblade, in point of fact.
     
    As they approached the intersection to her street, she tapped Hoosier’s shoulder and pointed to the right. He turned without slowing much, leaning the bike so far over that Bibi thought she could have reached out and put her hand on the asphalt. Instead, she tightened her hold around his waist and felt his muscles move when he laughed.
     
    “Okay, stop,” she called over the loud rumble of his Harley. Pointing again, she indicated their building, and he pulled up to the curb and killed the engine.
     
    “Is there parking in back?” he asked as he held out his arm to help her dismount. When she was on her feet, he swung his leg over and stood before her.
     
    “Why? You dropped me home, and thank you for it. But you don’t need to park.”
     
    She wanted him to park. Switchblade and all, she was horny. She was also lonely. Gina was her only true friend, and she’d been a total hag tonight.
     
    Gina could be nasty when she was wasted, but usually she turned her shit on guys. Or women she didn’t know. Tonight was the first time that Bibi had gotten the blast herself.
     
    Hoosier brought a hand to her face and swept his thumb over the top of her cheekbone, just below her eye. When he took his hand back, he studied the pad of his thumb, which was smudged with eyeliner. “You’re so fucking pretty. Damn, those eyes. You don’t need all this crap.” To punctuate that statement, he put his hand on her hair, and she heard the crackle of the sculpting spray that kept her spikes where she wanted them. “It’s like you’re trying to make yourself look…hard.”
     
    She knew she should be offended, but his tone wasn’t insulting or condescending. Bibi didn’t know what it was, but it took the edge off the words, so instead of getting mad, she tipped her head away, feeling embarrassed, almost ashamed, and simply said, “It’s the way we all do it. The style.”
     
    “Whose style? Yours?”
     
    Now she was getting mad. “What’s it to ya? And if you don’t like the way I look, what the hell’re you doin’?”
     
    Oh, damn. There was that smile. Bibi looked away. He took her chin and turned her back to face him. “How old are you, Miss Bibi Miss’ippi?”
     
    Finding her backbone again, she put her hands on his chest and shoved him back. “Old enough. And you’re pretty darn rude for askin’. How old are you ?”

He took the step that brought his close again. “Didn’t mean to be rude. But standing here, you look younger than I thought. I want to make sure you’re old enough before I kiss you.” His thumb traced over her bottom lip. “Because this is a gorgeous mouth.”
     
    Swallowing hard, trying to remember that he was being presumptuous and arrogant, that he had a knife, that he was a stranger, she said, “Just a ride, I thought. You can go now.” He hadn’t moved his thumb, and her lips moved on it as she spoke.
     
    “You want me to?”
     
    “Kiss me.” She’d meant it as a question, because she wasn’t sure if he was asking if she wanted him to kiss her or if she wanted him to go. But it came out an imperative—a plea, even—and he smiled and bent his head toward hers.
     
    He came down slowly, and she could have backed away. But she didn’t.
     
    And oh, that mouth was even better at kissing than it was at smiling. At first, he simply brushed his lips over hers, back and forth, until Bibi felt the tingle and