It’s impossible to think straight when he’s this close. As annoying as he is, I can’t let him escape my clutches.
Out of reflex, my palms land on his taut chest and shove him out of my personal space. I need oxygen, and his presence isn’t helping. Too bad he doesn’t budge, his daring eyes capturing mine. “You and your…” I stutter and, before he says something inappropriate, quickly add, “big mouth.”
A moan leaves his smart mouth. Seriously? “You know what they say…” He shrugs, an amused expression on his conceited face. “Big mouth, big—”
Narrowing my eyes, I can’t help but want to muzzle his smart mouth and put it to better use. He’s impossible! Who says things like that?
The fucker unsettles me yet again by shooting me a raunchy once-over, licking his sinful lips. “Stop looking at me like that,” I hiss.
What the hell does he want from me? We’re not quite touching. His pupils are so dilated that it’s clear, even in the waning sunlight. “Or what?”
Cutting off any chance of response, his commanding lips mold against mine and his arms circle my waist. I can’t move. Once again, his lips on mine feel so wrong and, at the same time, so right. The friction of his stubble on my clean-shaven skin and the dance of his frenzied tongue with my greedy one send me into overdrive.
Whimpering, I wiggle as if possessed. Going a mile a minute, my brain is at war with my body, which craves more unprecedented sensations. The sloppy Parisian kiss the cowboy stole months ago enticed a hidden desire that has no place in my well-planned life. Worse, our encounter elicited sensations that I’ve been desperate to recreate in a flurry of one-night stands, but nothing’s worked so far.
What’s left of my willpower eventually propels me to stop the mind-boggling tongue action. He needs to accept that I run the show.
The air thickens between us as we huff and puff.
His half-mast eyes are so much darker than they were a minute ago. Should I keep playing with him? “What’d you do that for?”
“You’re not gonna win at this game, cowboy,” I sneer in a rushed voice; an expression of my false bravado. “So you think.” Acutely attuned to my hungry body, one of Hunter’s legs subtly treads closer and he leans into me.
Within seconds, his tongue fills my mouth again. Shuddering under his touch, my resolve crumbles as the asshat deepens the kiss. I stiffen when it evolves from bruising to tender, although our encounter is anything but. My body temperature skyrockets, along with my libido.
Unaware of the all-consuming passion that this kiss provokes in me, he thrusts his hip against mine, banging my back into the wall. His jean-clad semi rubs, grazes, and expands against mine that’s desperate for release. I try to pace myself, but it’s a lost cause.
Overwhelmed by a myriad of toe-curling sensations, my brain shuts down and allows my ravenous body to do the talking; maybe that’s the kind of talking Hunter was referring to earlier!
Talk, my ass! No, no, no, keep my ass out of this!
With that thought in mind, my tempted body is given the green light to act.
Without warning, I close the gap between us and my knuckles trace his sculpted abs. At once, his intoxicating scent numbs my consciousness, and I act on the unthinkable the second his hands snake around my body. And just when I think the fever has reached its peak, the conniving man betrays me, ditching my waist in favor of my hair.
Why can’t you stop? Get a hold of yourself. This is your game, not his…
Then why does the simple act of his fingers running through my short hair increase the unbearable pressure building between my legs? I don’t even give a flying fuck if I come in my pants.
Damn, it’s hot in here!
His urgent mouth devours my expletives and beads of sweat run down the side of my face, but I’m too far gone to swipe them away. I’m too blissed out to care. I’m too needy to break the spell quite yet. My senses are on alert. I want to hate him. I hate to want him. So much…