“All the hip kids,” he mocked her, and then his smile fell away as he studied her, his eyes running over her face and settling on her lips.
“Wh—”
He kissed the words from her. Soft, sweet, and devastating, his lips obliterated every thought from Hope’s head but one.More!
CHAPTER THREE
Newman had been messing with Hope, and then suddenly he’d looked at her. Really looked, and seen the creamy soft skin, and pouty, pink lips. Her eyes were darker than any he’d ever seen, the pupils almost invisible, wide and uncertain at the moment, and he was shocked to realize he wanted to kiss her. The shock should have been enough to make him step away from her; instead he’d stepped closer and kissed her.
Mistake!She had soft lips, lips a man could get used to kissing. Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her skin, holding her face still while he took her mouth deeper. His head spun, his body was hard in seconds, and he needed to stop. His brain wasn’t about to follow that order.
“No!”
She broke the contact, turning her head away. Newman stepped back, shocked that what they had just shared was one of the most arousing kisses he’d ever experienced.
“Hope—”
“W-we…. That should not have happened.”
“Agreed, but it did,” Newman said.
“Well, forget it. Pretend it didn’t.” She looked desperate now, hands wringing, eyes avoiding his.
“Not sure I can forget something that felt as good as that.” Newman believed in honesty—unless lying got him out of a sticky situation, then he was all over it.
“What? No… it didn’t.”
“In order to lie convincingly, you need to keep eye contact, Hope.”
She snapped her teeth together, and as the elevator stopped, Newman didn’t pursue the subject. The hell of it was, he wanted to. In fact, all of a sudden, Hope Lawrence had just escalated from pain in his butt, to sexy, disturbing, and hell yes, arousing pain in his butt.
Weird how things happen, he thought, taking her hand in his and dragging her through the hotel lobby.
“Let me go.” She said the words softly, but her fingers were clawing at his hand for release. “Why are we going into the hotel boutique? I thought you wanted feeding?”
“You need dry clothes.”
He dragged her to a rack, then using one hand, he browsed through it, selecting a dress. He handed it to her.
“Get some underwear, and then go in there and put them on. If they fit, I’ll buy them for you.”
“You’re not buying me clothes,” she spluttered, clutching the dress. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her eyes shot left and right. “Y-you can’t buy me underwear either!”
“Yes, because you’re so selective,” he muttered, leading her to another rack. He took down a bra and looked at the size, then a pair of panties.
“Go and try them on, and hurry. I’m hungry.”
When she didn’t move, he turned her, placed a hand on her spine, and nudged her forward and into a cubicle, then pulled the curtain.
“I’m not doing this!”
“You’re shivering, and an offence to look at. Seriously, where the hell do you shop? Chez dumpster?” Newman leaned on a shelf that held shoes while he riled Hope up some more.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Yes, thank you,” Newman said to the saleswoman, who was giving him the eye—at least she was until he turned and she got a look at his black eye. Then she scurried away.
“You done in there?”
