Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1) by Clementine Roux, Penelope Silva

are we going to keep this up? I mean, if we end it soon, someone will figure out, it was a publicity stunt, but if we let it go on for too long, won’t it… won’t it…”
    I had to laugh. I knew where this was headed. No matter how fine the woman was, they always found a way to bring things back to the age old question: where is this relationship going? What I wanted to say to her would have caused an issue and the last thing I needed was another female issue on my hands, so I swallowed my initial thoughts and told her what I thought she wanted to hear. That was the safest bet. In my experience, the more bullshit you fed a woman, the better. They loved to believe they were your one and only. They wanted men to worship the ground they walked on and, apparently, this Nubian queen was no different.
    “We’ll keep it going as long as you want to. I’m not going anywhere. When you get sick of me, I’ll leave you alone, but until then, I’m here for you,” I said. Service with a smile; that was my motto. I’m Team Whatever-the-hell-will-make-the-woman-stop-asking-me-questions.
    She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. What did I say wrong now? “You do know we’re not really dating, don’t you?”
    I nodded. “Yeah, why?”
    With her hands on her hips, she took a step back, squinting her eyes at me. “Why are you trying to butter me up? If we both know it’s not a real relationship, why are you hemming and hawing like it is? What; you like me now?”
    Why did she look so offended?
    “Most women would kill to have me pay even a smidgen of attention to them and you’re tripping because I told you I’m here for as long as it takes? I don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head.
    She shifted from one foot to the other. “I give up. I don’t know what to say to that.”
    Good.
    “We’re going to need a plan,” she said after a moment.
    Great! Now she wants to make things all complicated.
    “A plan?” I turned my attention back to dinner.
    “Why are you repeating what I said?”
    I could tell by her tone, she was ticked. Damn, this was feeling more and more like a relationship each second. Why did I get myself into this mess? Time to go back to what I do best, even if it kills me.
    “Come here.” There she went again, ready to ask another round of questions, but I put my hand up, touching my fingers to her juicy lips.
    “Come closer,” I whispered.
    “But, I…” Isla started.
    I stepped toward her to pull her in for an embrace, lifting her off the floor. “Don’t talk,” I whispered before placing my lips on hers.
    She relaxed.
    I don’t know how long we remained in the kitchen, our lips locked on each other. My dick sprung to attention and that’s all I could focus on. I needed to have her. 
    Between kisses, Isla squirmed in my arms, but I held her tighter, hoping she’d feel the heat between us.
    “We should…” she tried as my tongue slipped in and out of her mouth.
    A low hum escaped her lips as I forced her legs around my waist, positioning her right.
    “But, what about…” she tried again, goose pimples covering her arms.
    “Shh!” I said, cupping my hands on her firm ass as I walked her back to the living room, where we’d have plenty of room to taste, feel and touch each other with no interruptions.
    Soon, we were on the floor in front of my fireplace. I could feel her tight core pulsating with every touch. I was pleased she’d figured out that resisting what we both wanted wasn’t in her best interest.
    Her legs tightened around my waist as I ran my tongue down her long, sleek neck, blowing small pockets of air as I moved down every ounce of her body.
    “There you go, baby,” I whispered, my heart bursting out of my chest. I loved this moment. I fucking lived for moments like this. Listening to a hot woman pant and moan with pleasure was magic. My personal brand of magic.
    “Don’t talk,” Isla said, surprising me. She was more into it than I thought.
    I didn’t have to