How is it possible that I’m smiling so much that my cheeks hurt?
I can’t remember the last time I smiled this hard. “You’re hilarious.”
“I rather prefer the wordcharming, but if you wish to call me hilarious, I’ll deal with it.” His hand settles on my hip. Eyes still twinkling. Smile still shining bright. “I find you fascinating. I would enjoy spending more time with you. So I certainly hope I’m not a disappointment. There’s quite a bit of pressure now.”
There is.
It’s in his crotch.
“Yes, I can feel that,” I murmur.
“It’s beyond my control when I’m alone with an intriguing woman. Your dimples drive me mad.”
“If things beyond my control are all you like about me?—”
“I’ve only begun to name the things about you that intrigue me.”
Simon likes me.
Or, as Hudson would say, heliiiiiikesme.
Or he’s pretending.
And so what if he is?
Neither of us is looking for a long-term relationship.
We’re just looking for fun.
That’s what I’m thinking about—fun—when his lips brush mine.
Warm, soft lips that make my heart race faster and the delicious kind of shiver dance down my neck.
My eyes drift shut.
He suckles at my bottom lip.
I grip his shirt while he slides his hand around my waist and tugs me closer, that bulge behind his zipper pressing harder into my belly.
We’re doing this.
I’m kissing Simon.
Not just tease-kissing.
No, this has rapidly moved to full-on making out, lips and tongues exploring while he turns me against the counter.
Apparently one of us is hungry.
Maybe both of us.
Because now that I’m kissing Simon, I can’t see a world existing where this doesn’t end with us naked and in my bed.
I want to lick his neck.
I want him to leave whisker-burn marks on mine.
Losing myself in this kiss, in the grip he has on my waist, in the way he’s pushing me against the counter—yes, please.
