Engaging the Bachelor (Pulse) Read Online Free Page B

her breath and started up the steep flight of stairs. He followed behind, her sexy body dragging every dirty idea he ever had to the forefront of his brain. Her skirt lifted with each step, exposing the soft swell of her tanned backside. Christ, did she sunbathe in the nude? A groan caught in his throat, and she stopped and turned.
    “What now?”
    He coughed. “I’m not complaining, but you might want to wear panties with that uniform.”
    She ran her hand over the back of her skirt, smoothing it over her luscious ass, and scowled at him. “I am wearing panties. Maybe you should just stop looking so hard.”
    He adjusted his pants. No sense in hiding what she did to him. “Key word being hard, Gemma.”
    She glared at him, but he didn’t miss the twitch in her lips. “This is dinner and nothing more. Just so we’re clear, I don’t owe you anything other than that.”
    “Right. Dinner. I know.” He coughed again. “But just so you’re clear, I do want to have sex with you again. I don’t believe in playing games, unless of course handcuffs are involved, so I figured I might as well get that right out there in the open.”
    A beat of silence, and then, “I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”
    His cock twitched at her feeble protest. “Say that again.”
    “I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”
    “No, just that last part.”
    She eyed him and her sweet pink tongue snaked out and brushed over her bottom lip. Was she trying to kill him?
    “Carson.”
    “Yeah, that’s it. I want you to say it just like that when I’m inside you.” He kept his expression deadpan when her mouth dropped open in a silent O . He probably shouldn’t be trying to rattle her, but she was just so damn sexy when she was thrown off her game—and yeah, she was playing with him as much as he was playing with her. There was a connection between them whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. The push/ pull was palpable, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use everything in his arsenal to explore it further.
    She blinked several times and then gave him a punch on the shoulder. He slipped down a step and grabbed the rail to hold on. Damn, those boney knuckles hurt like hell. He rubbed his arm, but he liked that she could take care of herself.
    “What was that for?”
    “Oh, like you don’t know.” He shrugged like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay, that’s it. You deserve this.” She fished her keys from her pocket, darted up the steps, and opened her door. “Gracie,” she called out, and the biggest, ugliest pit bull he’d ever set eyes on came barreling down the stairs toward him.
    “Holy shit.” He nearly fell when the dog rammed her nose into his crotch. He gripped the rail harder, and winced as she buried her face between his legs as if she was settling in for the winter, or a late night snack. A growl rumbled in Gracie’s throat, and pain shot through him. He bent forward and cursed, bracing himself for the loss of his manhood.
    “Gracie,” Gemma called, a note of panic in her voice as she slapped her leg. “Here, girl.”
    Gracie backed off his crotch, and one large mitt the size of a baseball glove pawed gently—playfully—at his shoulder. So, she wasn’t after his balls? Carson reached for her paw when a long wet tongue swished across his face—his mouth specifically.
    He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Jesus,” he cursed. Gracie was the last one he thought he’d be French kissing tonight. Her tail beat against the wooden steps, her whole body curving and snaking with excitement. Some guard dog she was turning out to be.
    “Gracie,” Gemma said again, her voice firm. “I said come here.”
    Gracie spun and ran back up the stairs, and Carson took a minute to catch his breath. “So, that’s Gracie, the man-eater.”
    “You okay?” Gemma asked, skipping back down the steps, the vibrations going straight to his aching