Lady parts tingling? Double check.
What started out as a lesson to prove him wrong, starts to feel an awful lot like something else as his hands curl into my hair and he pulls me closer. It feels like maybe all those hours I spent daydreaming of exactly this weren’t so crazy after all.
Elliott’s tongue lashes greedily against mine, and when I pull away, the hottest curse I’ve ever heard falls from his swollen lips as he stares down at me, blinking slowly, his pupils blown out.
God bless my voice for remaining steady when I say, “Tell me I’m average, now, smartass.”
“You were all right,” he rasps.
The fact that he can barely get those words out proves that I am more than all right. Still, his refusal to admit it really pisses me off.
Talk about a sore loser.
“Five out of ten,” he adds.
“Five out of—are you nuts? That was at least an eight.” The only reason it wasn’t higher is because all our clothes are still on.
His smirk returns, the jealous man from only a few moments ago replaced by a smug asshole. “An eight for you, maybe.”
Do I need to kiss him again to?—
Wait.
WAIT.
Holy. Shit. “You tricked me into kissing you.”
Elliott swipes a thumb over his lower lip, as if that sexy move can wipe away his smirk. “I goaded you into kissing me. There’s a difference.”
“They’re the same thing.”
“Actually, Loren, tricking implies that you didn’t want to kiss me. Goading means you wanted to but needed that extra little nudge to get off your cute ass and do it.”
It is way too early in the morning to be arguing over semantics. “I didn’t want to—Did you just say I have a cute ass?”
His strong shoulders lift and lower in a casual shrug. “What? Am I not supposed to notice that either? Well, it’s pretty fucking hard when you scamper around in those lacy things you call shorts.”
“Theyareshorts! And I don’t scamper.”
“Please. You scamper like a fucking chipmunk.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“So are you,” he throws back.
“At least I didn’t trick you into kissing me!”
His head snaps toward the hallway, his brow scrunching and eyes narrowing. “Hey! What’s that over there?”
I twist to see what it is, finding nothing but his couch covered with fluffy pillows. When I turn back, his lips meet my cheek. Desire burns through my?—
Nope. Not desire. Let’s go with anger instead.Angerburns through my blood.
“See what I did there?” he says, his tone mocking. “That’sme tricking you for a kiss.”
Fine. Fair enough. He wins words for the day.
He stalks forward, corralling me into the corner of the kitchen, the cold edge of the counter pressing into my backside, his heat overwhelming my senses.
