Page 129 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

She smiles, right up at me. “You like me too much to stop me.”

“You’re right, but I don’t think you actually want to be anywhere else than right here.”

“I don’t like that you know me so well already,” she says, burying her face against my chest.

I chuckle. “I think you do.”

“Nuh-uh,” she says, but I can hear the smile in her words. She pushes me away. “Go over there. I need to finish washing my hair.”

“Fine.”

I step the few feet away under the other stream of water, but I don’t take my eyes off of her.

“Stop staring, perv,” she says, but she’s smiling.

“I can look at what’s mine,” I smirk.

“Whatever,” she says, flipping me off and turning her back to me.

It just gives me a view of her perfect ass.

“That didn’t have the effect you think it did,” I laugh as I start applying shampoo to my own hair.

She turns her head enough to see what I’m looking at.

“You’re such a fucking creep.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Doll.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, so I do it back. I could do this for the rest of my life.

Chapter 45

Katie

“Michael, can you help me with this zipper? I can’t reach it,” I say, walking out of the bathroom.

He’s on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, but the moment he sees me, he straightens. His gaze locks onto me.

“Wow,” he says.

I smile, but I can feel the heat climbing up my neck, so I glance down, adjusting the strap on my heel to have something else to focus on. “Thank you.”

By the time I look back up, he’s already standing, walking toward me. He’s wearing a black suit that fits him perfectly, the jacket smooth across his shoulders and narrowing at his waist. The white shirt underneath is crisp. His tie is straight and exactly in place.

He stops behind me.

“Zipper,” I remind him.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing my back as he finds it, and I suck in a breath as my shoulders tense a little.

“Relax,” he murmurs.

“I am relaxed,” I say, which only makes him huff out a quiet laugh behind me.

His fingers find the zipper, and instead of pulling it up right away, he slides it higher inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I say.