Free Bad Judgment by Meghan March Page A

stride toward her, pressing one palm against the door beside her head. “I’m not blowing you off, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
    “Then why—”
    I can’t give her the explanation she wants, so I try something different.
    Lowering my head, I catch the next words out of her mouth on my lips. They’re just as soft as I remember, and I drop my other hand to her hip, drawing her against me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my T-shirt, almost reluctantly, but she’s not pushing me away.
    I take her mouth, my tongue diving between her lips to taste her again—finally, but the pulsing of my dick against the zipper of my jeans forces me to back off. If I don’t, I’ll be laying her out on the table behind us, and that’s not what this is about. At least, not all of what this is about.
    With her face flushed and her hair messy from my fingers, Justine shutters her expression. She’s rebuilding her walls brick by brick.
    That’s not going to work for me.
    “What’s it going to take, Justine?” I remember asking her the same question at the bar.
    Her dark eyes fill with confusion. “What’s what going to take?” The words come out defensively.
    “With you. To get a second chance. I fucked up once, but doesn’t everyone deserve another shot?”

Justine
     
    My heart is hammering as heat burns in my belly and licks out to the rest of my body. How does he do this to me? We’re in the library, for Pete’s sake, and I’m rubbing against him like . . . like . . . a freaking cat in heat. And now he wants his second chance?
    What am I doing? I’m supposed to be figuring out a way to get him to study, not helping myself to another dose of Ryker’s too-tempting mouth. This is never going to work. But how can I possibly go back to Justice Grant and tell him I can’t take his deal because I can’t control myself around his son, and his son definitely can’t control himself around me? Nope. Not happening.
    You’re not quitting, Justine. I give myself a mental pep talk as Ryker waits for an answer. What’s it going to take? I wish I knew, but I don’t. And I have to cobble together some sort of coherent response.
    This is going to pay your tuition, Justine. You can do this if you just get your shit together.
    “You know what I have time for right now?” I hold up my hand and raise one finger. “Going to class.” I raise a second finger. “Studying for class.” I raise a third finger. “Working so I can continue to have the privilege to do the aforementioned number one and two.”
    Ryker’s determined expression doesn’t change. “You can carve out time for one date. We’ll go somewhere nice. I promise you’ll have fun.”
    I drop my hand and ball it into a fist. A date is not what we need. What we need—okay, what I need —is for Ryker to get his ass in gear and study. And to be able to push him away when he kisses me.
    “I don’t need you to take me somewhere nice. I need to study . You want to impress me, try applying yourself. You’re not an idiot, so quit acting like it in class.”
    He crosses his arms, and I wonder how he’s going to respond. “So you’ll go out with me if we study.” He narrows his eyes. “I’ll take that.”
    Seriously? It can’t be that easy. Given that I’ve got an entire year’s worth of tuition riding on getting him to crack a book, I’m not going to say no. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get the word yes out.
    “Okay.” My voice sounds rusty as though I wasn’t talking thirty seconds ago.
    His eyes light up in triumph, so I quickly continue.
    “Meet me at Unwired. Seven o’clock. I’ll be there until ten. If you want another shot, that’s the only one I’m giving you.” I have to pretend I’m not doing mental cartwheels over my easy victory because Ryker would know something is up. A sliver of guilt at manipulating him like this flashes through me, but I push it down.
    It’s for his own good too. I’m not doing