hard and aching. The dress seemed much too tight and restrictive. Between her legs, she quaked with a new awakening.
She wanted more than a kiss. Her body demanded more.
Damn. She really hated this guy!
As his tongue teased and taunted and his lips became more demanding, Kim struggled to think. She had to keep it together. Plans A and B had failed miserably in the very fact that they were a success, but she could still turn this around. She could use this.
Would
use this...as soon as he stopped doing whatever the hell he was doing that felt so good.
His tongue swept over her teeth and across her lower lip, urging more participation. She tore at his shirt, tugging him closer with treacherous fingers, seeking a way inside his clothes.
His warm hands remained on her face, holding her while she drowned in his essence, his heat and the intensity of what they were doing. Chaz Monroe really was the epitome of everything masculine and powerful, right down to his kissing talent. He didn’t ravage her or threaten to overpower. The kiss had started off tender and exploratory, without being tentative, then quickly escalated.
These feelings were a first, and they were outrageous. She wanted Monroe to throw her on the table and slide his heated palms over her thighs. She had never felt this out of control, had never been attracted to a man in such a fierce, feral manner.
But other than his warm hands on her cheeks, he made no further move to touch her. No illicit fondling, nothing that would have earned him a shove and a sharp reprimand if she had been thinking properly.
Kissing was supposed to be like this, yet for her, never was. No man had ever moved her in this way, making her want to surrender her hard-won hold on control.
And just when she had started to weaken further, he tugged lightly on her lower lip and withdrew. The pressure on her lips eased. He removed his hands from her face slowly, as if reluctant to do so, leaving chills in their wake.
He remained close. His eyes bored into hers questioningly, offering a hint of a new kind of understanding that was so foreign to Kim, she misread it as sympathy. He spoke from inches away.
“What about Santa? Exactly?”
She expected to see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Her stomach seized up as she waited for it, wondering if Monroe had merely been proving a point about being an experienced playboy able to get whatever he wanted from his latest acquisition.
Bastard!
Her heart tanked. Her mouth formed a steely line. She had almost fallen for that kiss, and for him. She hadn’t been the one to put a stop to it.
“Kim?” Monroe’s tone was a silky caress with a startlingly direct link to her trembling lower regions.
“I’m sorry,” she replied breathlessly. “I just can’t.”
The words were forced, pitched low, angry. Kim got to her feet. Her knees felt absurdly weak and unsupportive.
“Kim,” Monroe said again, standing with her, using her first name as if the kiss had earned him the right to be familiar. “Help me here. Give me something.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “I thought I just did.”
It was too late for confessions and explanations. There would be no laughing this off as a simple mistake. Dread filled Kim, so heavy it made her stomach hurt. Following that came a round of embarrassment.
She had worn the dress and the shoes, and those things had worked their magic, just as Brenda had predicted they would. Going beyond distraction, they had seduced Monroe into unwarranted intimacy. And though she had liked that moment of intimacy, in the end, Monroe had successfully manipulated her. As her boss, he would continue to push for answers.
She steadied herself with a hand on the edge of the table. Telling the truth was out of the picture now for sure, as was remaining in Monroe’s presence for one second longer.
The ridiculous harassment case idea wavered in front of her as if it were written in the air. They had made out in the bar,
She wanted more than a kiss. Her body demanded more.
Damn. She really hated this guy!
As his tongue teased and taunted and his lips became more demanding, Kim struggled to think. She had to keep it together. Plans A and B had failed miserably in the very fact that they were a success, but she could still turn this around. She could use this.
Would
use this...as soon as he stopped doing whatever the hell he was doing that felt so good.
His tongue swept over her teeth and across her lower lip, urging more participation. She tore at his shirt, tugging him closer with treacherous fingers, seeking a way inside his clothes.
His warm hands remained on her face, holding her while she drowned in his essence, his heat and the intensity of what they were doing. Chaz Monroe really was the epitome of everything masculine and powerful, right down to his kissing talent. He didn’t ravage her or threaten to overpower. The kiss had started off tender and exploratory, without being tentative, then quickly escalated.
These feelings were a first, and they were outrageous. She wanted Monroe to throw her on the table and slide his heated palms over her thighs. She had never felt this out of control, had never been attracted to a man in such a fierce, feral manner.
But other than his warm hands on her cheeks, he made no further move to touch her. No illicit fondling, nothing that would have earned him a shove and a sharp reprimand if she had been thinking properly.
Kissing was supposed to be like this, yet for her, never was. No man had ever moved her in this way, making her want to surrender her hard-won hold on control.
And just when she had started to weaken further, he tugged lightly on her lower lip and withdrew. The pressure on her lips eased. He removed his hands from her face slowly, as if reluctant to do so, leaving chills in their wake.
He remained close. His eyes bored into hers questioningly, offering a hint of a new kind of understanding that was so foreign to Kim, she misread it as sympathy. He spoke from inches away.
“What about Santa? Exactly?”
She expected to see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Her stomach seized up as she waited for it, wondering if Monroe had merely been proving a point about being an experienced playboy able to get whatever he wanted from his latest acquisition.
Bastard!
Her heart tanked. Her mouth formed a steely line. She had almost fallen for that kiss, and for him. She hadn’t been the one to put a stop to it.
“Kim?” Monroe’s tone was a silky caress with a startlingly direct link to her trembling lower regions.
“I’m sorry,” she replied breathlessly. “I just can’t.”
The words were forced, pitched low, angry. Kim got to her feet. Her knees felt absurdly weak and unsupportive.
“Kim,” Monroe said again, standing with her, using her first name as if the kiss had earned him the right to be familiar. “Help me here. Give me something.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “I thought I just did.”
It was too late for confessions and explanations. There would be no laughing this off as a simple mistake. Dread filled Kim, so heavy it made her stomach hurt. Following that came a round of embarrassment.
She had worn the dress and the shoes, and those things had worked their magic, just as Brenda had predicted they would. Going beyond distraction, they had seduced Monroe into unwarranted intimacy. And though she had liked that moment of intimacy, in the end, Monroe had successfully manipulated her. As her boss, he would continue to push for answers.
She steadied herself with a hand on the edge of the table. Telling the truth was out of the picture now for sure, as was remaining in Monroe’s presence for one second longer.
The ridiculous harassment case idea wavered in front of her as if it were written in the air. They had made out in the bar,
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