that’s what I answer to. My god, how arrogant and obnoxious are you? I’m not some pet you can pick up and
name
. Will I get to call you whatever I want? Because Shithead sounds just about perfect.”
He comes toward me, his pace measured. A part of me wants to retreat, but my pride won’t let me. I’ll be damned if I cower before this obnoxious bastard. I don’t care how rich or smart he is. He’s absolutely horrible.
He stops when the tips of his feet are less than an inch from mine. I can smell the scotch on his breath, and feel the heat radiating from his large, muscular body. My lungs constrict, and I can only drag in half the air I would normally.
“You know…I’d be a little more careful if I were you. You have no prospects, no money and have a younger sister to support.”
I gasp. “How…?”
“Do you think I’d proposition just any woman off the street?”
I blink. I don’t know why it’s never crossed my mind that he would want to look into the background of the woman he intended to marry. He has a lot of assets to protect. An old pain turns my voice scratchy. “Then you found out about my dad.”
“I did.”
“You sure you want somebody like me in your household? Who knows what I might take?”
His gaze drops to my lips, and they tingle. Anticipation starts bubbling as he leans even closer and his five o’clock shadow scrapes my cheek. My skin prickles, and the ache between my legs begins to throb. “Oh, it’s fine. I plan to take just as much from you,” he whispers, his breath fanning my ear. “If not more.”
My chest rises and falls shallowly, and I realize with shock that I’m panting. He hasn’t even touched me. Or does that delicious feel of his five o’clock shadow count?
He starts pulling back. His lips are so close to mine. All I have to do is tilt my head just so, and I can steal a taste.
My heart thuds, but I don’t make the move. He looks at me through hooded eyes, stopping with his lips hovering over mine for a fraction of a second.
Then he cants his head and takes my mouth in a kiss.
The touch sends an electric shockwave through me. I haven’t been kissed since my parents’ death two years ago, and my body, starved, betrays me, angling closer for more contact. He wraps my ponytail around his fist and holds my head so I can’t run.
He doesn’t ask for permission, but he doesn’t exactly dominate either. It’s the confident kiss of a man who knows what he’s doing and takes what he wants. His tongue traces my mouth and probes at the opening. With a soft gasp, I part my lips and taste the scotch and something else that makes me so hot it almost hurts.
My knees shake, and I wrap my arms around his neck for support. His hand burns through my thin shirt, and I arch into him.
The kiss goes on and on. He’s sampling every inch of my lips…my tongue…like he was born with the right. My senses are saturated with him. His decadent taste. His delicious scent. His strong, hard body. His hands on me—
Pleasure laps at me like waves, dragging me further and further under. I’m drowning in him, but I don’t want to come up for air. I want to sink deeper until I forget everything but this.
The emptiness between my legs throbs. I moan softly at the sweet ache. He rumbles against my mouth as though he knows exactly what I’m feeling. His thick, hard cock presses against my belly, and the syrupy heat intensifies in my core.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers. “Why you would deny yourself this is beyond me.”
Because you won’t even call me by my name
.
The small voice of sanity cuts through the sexual haze like a scalpel. I shove him away from me with all my strength. It isn’t really enough to make him back off, but he pulls away anyway.
“No,” I say.
He drops his gaze to my beaded nipples and raises it to my eyes. “That’s what women say when they
aren’t
wet.” The heated expression on his starkly handsome face says he knows I’m
name
. Will I get to call you whatever I want? Because Shithead sounds just about perfect.”
He comes toward me, his pace measured. A part of me wants to retreat, but my pride won’t let me. I’ll be damned if I cower before this obnoxious bastard. I don’t care how rich or smart he is. He’s absolutely horrible.
He stops when the tips of his feet are less than an inch from mine. I can smell the scotch on his breath, and feel the heat radiating from his large, muscular body. My lungs constrict, and I can only drag in half the air I would normally.
“You know…I’d be a little more careful if I were you. You have no prospects, no money and have a younger sister to support.”
I gasp. “How…?”
“Do you think I’d proposition just any woman off the street?”
I blink. I don’t know why it’s never crossed my mind that he would want to look into the background of the woman he intended to marry. He has a lot of assets to protect. An old pain turns my voice scratchy. “Then you found out about my dad.”
“I did.”
“You sure you want somebody like me in your household? Who knows what I might take?”
His gaze drops to my lips, and they tingle. Anticipation starts bubbling as he leans even closer and his five o’clock shadow scrapes my cheek. My skin prickles, and the ache between my legs begins to throb. “Oh, it’s fine. I plan to take just as much from you,” he whispers, his breath fanning my ear. “If not more.”
My chest rises and falls shallowly, and I realize with shock that I’m panting. He hasn’t even touched me. Or does that delicious feel of his five o’clock shadow count?
He starts pulling back. His lips are so close to mine. All I have to do is tilt my head just so, and I can steal a taste.
My heart thuds, but I don’t make the move. He looks at me through hooded eyes, stopping with his lips hovering over mine for a fraction of a second.
Then he cants his head and takes my mouth in a kiss.
The touch sends an electric shockwave through me. I haven’t been kissed since my parents’ death two years ago, and my body, starved, betrays me, angling closer for more contact. He wraps my ponytail around his fist and holds my head so I can’t run.
He doesn’t ask for permission, but he doesn’t exactly dominate either. It’s the confident kiss of a man who knows what he’s doing and takes what he wants. His tongue traces my mouth and probes at the opening. With a soft gasp, I part my lips and taste the scotch and something else that makes me so hot it almost hurts.
My knees shake, and I wrap my arms around his neck for support. His hand burns through my thin shirt, and I arch into him.
The kiss goes on and on. He’s sampling every inch of my lips…my tongue…like he was born with the right. My senses are saturated with him. His decadent taste. His delicious scent. His strong, hard body. His hands on me—
Pleasure laps at me like waves, dragging me further and further under. I’m drowning in him, but I don’t want to come up for air. I want to sink deeper until I forget everything but this.
The emptiness between my legs throbs. I moan softly at the sweet ache. He rumbles against my mouth as though he knows exactly what I’m feeling. His thick, hard cock presses against my belly, and the syrupy heat intensifies in my core.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers. “Why you would deny yourself this is beyond me.”
Because you won’t even call me by my name
.
The small voice of sanity cuts through the sexual haze like a scalpel. I shove him away from me with all my strength. It isn’t really enough to make him back off, but he pulls away anyway.
“No,” I say.
He drops his gaze to my beaded nipples and raises it to my eyes. “That’s what women say when they
aren’t
wet.” The heated expression on his starkly handsome face says he knows I’m
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