Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) by Andrea Simonne Page A

though her vibrator is getting worn out from overuse. She’s pretty sure she heard it complaining last time. Give me a break, will you, lady? I’m exhausted.
    “Did you really just fly here from Africa?” Lindsay asks to distract herself from leaning over and trying to get a better look at what he has going on between those muscular thighs.
    “Yes, I arrived yesterday afternoon.”
    “That must be a weird transition, traveling between two places so different.”
    “It is,” he agrees. “Very weird.”
    He goes quiet again like he did back upstairs, wearing that same tense expression. There’s strain on his face, the lines around his mouth pronounced. She realizes he’s different than the last time she saw him. He’s still arrogant and overbearing, but there’s something serious beneath it all.
    It occurs to her that he’s seen things far beyond her ordinary life. Terrible things. Things she probably doesn’t even want to imagine.
    “When was the last time you slept?” she asks.
    “It’s been a while. I don’t always sleep well when I’m transitioning back from an assignment.”
    For a moment, his gaze is so weary that a part of her wants to comfort him. The mighty Thor can swing a hammer, but he’s not invincible, as much as he likes to think he is. She’s glad she made that fox for him. She suspects Giovanni could use some whimsy in his life.
    When the taxi arrives in front of her building, he gets out and holds the door open for her. She slides over and climbs out too, but then stops and stands in front of him. He’s watching her, the same way he’s been watching her all night.
    “It was interesting seeing you again.” Lindsay glances toward her building. It’s late enough now that the streets are quiet, though there are still some cars on the road.
    “Same here. I can’t believe I’d forgotten what you were like.”
    Her eyes go back to him. “And what am I like?”
    “Unique.”
    “Hmm, I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
    “A little bit of both, I think.”
    She gives him a flirty smile. “Lucky for you, my ego can handle that. I am an artist, after all. Now, aren’t you going to ask what I think of you?”
    “I’m not sure I want to know. My ego might not be able to take the hit.”
    “Come on, we both know your ego is the size of Norway.”
    His lips twitch. “Okay, so tell me, Lindsay, what do you think of me?”
    She pauses to consider him. “I think you’re the kind of man who tries to do the right thing, though you often suffer for it.”
    Giovanni blinks. Seems startled even. Apparently, it wasn’t the flippant answer he was expecting.
    And while she still has him off balance, she steps in closer. Being an artist isn’t the only thing she’s talented at and she decides it’s time to leave him with a reminder.
    Silently, she puts her palm out to touch his face. His skin is warm beneath her fingers, rough with stubble. She’s surprised how good he feels.
    He goes completely still, like an animal struggling with something. She can see it in his eyes.
    He doesn’t move, so she goes to him. She slips her arms around his neck and presses her body against his, enjoying the solid feel of him. His masculine scent drifts over her like musky incense. Luckily, she’s wearing heels, but even with her high-heeled sandals, she discovers it’s a stretch to reach him.
    At first, she only licks his lower lip, her tongue running along the edge where it’s smooth, then lower to where his skin is salty and rough like sandpaper.
    His breath hitches.
    She licks him again, and he shudders.
    Lindsay draws back. Giovanni’s mouth is open slightly, but his eyes are closed. There’s something undeniably raw in his expression. Unguarded. It stirs a place within her, beckoning like the mysteries of a deep ocean.
    “It’s only a kiss,” she whispers.
    His eyes open at her words. They’re dark—inky blue. His hands grip her waist, and this time, it’s Giovanni