Bad Decisions Good Regrets (Social Experiment #2) by Sherelle Green

Author:Sherelle Green [Green, Sherelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 46025700
Published: 2019-05-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“If his hands are as soft as a baby’s ass, you betta run sis! You want the guy whose calluses make you tingle. That means he knows what he is doing.”

~ Layla ~

IVY

He must be joking, right? I studied his face, concluding that he was for real. Like, for real, for real. Dead. Ass. Serious. His look leaving nothing left for questioning. And he has the nerve to seem unfazed by everything I just told him.

How dare he lean against my desk in his crisp, white T-shirt and his navy-blue jogging pants looking so calm, cool, and collected when I was a ball of nerves. I didn’t care if his five-o-clock shadow was giving me all kinds of dirty thoughts. Or that his honey-brown eyes were laced in that same dangerous spark that had me fighting back a moan.

I tended to like the clean-cut type. Or did I? I wasn’t even sure anymore since there was nothing neat and proper about Theseus’s appearance. Forget about the fact that seeing him like this—so masculine, so dominant—made me question if Power would still be my favorite sitcom if I hadn’t just realized how much he resembled Omari Hardwick, except with more hair. Only to me, Theseus was a sexier, badder version.

I really didn’t give a shit that his lips—those juicy ass lips—were slyly smirking like he hadn’t just asked me to get naked as if it was the most normal request in the world. And I wasn’t even going to think about his damn tattoos. I mean, why the hell did they make him look so delectable. Indestructible. Unbreakable.

So, imagine my surprise when I kissed all of my overthinking good-bye, lifted my shirt over my head, and tossed it to the floor, feeling free and loving the way the cool air from my ceiling fan teased my nipples since I wasn’t wearing a bra. And if that weren’t enough to make me remove my shorts next, the way Theseus’s dick was pushing against his jogging pants made me bold enough to do so.

I stood there in my black panties, fighting the urge to cover my chest since standing in my underwear made me feel even more exposed. Yet, instead of fulfilling that urge, I kept my hands to my side, his eyes drinking me in as he slowly perused my body. Did he peep the stretch marks I had on my thighs? And if he did, did he care?

“Do you have any baby oil?” he asked, breaking my thoughts. I pointed to my smell goods shelf, trying my best to act like my heart wasn’t beating so fast and loud, I wanted to pass out. I counted backwards from ten to calm myself until finally, the only thing I could hear was the constant thumping in my eardrums that was starting to sound a lot like the beat to “Flawless” by Beyoncé.

He retrieved the baby oil and pointed to the double-sized bed. “Lay chest down on the edge of the bed.”

I did as he’d requested, too nervous to say anything snarky.

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