Page 26 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“Doll,” I say, trying not to laugh again, “I’m pretty sure my shirt has an imprint of your face on it.”

I’ve got both arms wrapped around her waist now, and she doesn’t move. Her hands rest against my chest as she tilts her head back to look at me.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says.

I chuckle. A curl has fallen across her brow. I reach up and brush it aside, my fingers grazing her temple before sliding down the curve of her cheek. My hand settles on her jaw and I tip her chin up. Her breath catches, and I kiss her.

For the briefest second she freezes in surprise, but then she melts. Her lips soften beneath mine, and her hands press into my chest as she leans into the kiss. The small sound she makes against my mouth is enough to make my arm tighten around her waist, pulling her closer.

She kisses me back. It’s not cautiously or shyly. Her lips move against mine with a sudden certainty that sends heat straight through me as her hands shift slightly against my chest as she leans closer.

Chapter 9

Katie

Michael’s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer until there’s barely any space left between us. The warmth of his chest presses against my palms, and the moment his thumb brushes the edge of my jaw again, something traitorous melts in my stomach. This is a problem. A very tall, tattooed problem. And apparently, I’ve decided to make it worse.

I pull him down and kiss him again. Michael doesn’t miss a beat. His hand slides along my back as the kiss deepens. When we finally pull apart, he studies my face for a second.

“You’re making this very easy for me, Doll.”

“I know,” I let slip.

His grin widens before he kisses me again, and again, I let him.

He lets go of my waist and turns toward the street, heading back toward his car with his hands tucked into his pockets. I follow him like a puppy, catching his arm before he gets too far. It’s the first time tonight I have absolutely nothing smart to say.

He opens the car door for me, his hand settling low on my back as he guides me into the seat.

“Thank you,” I say, glancing up at him as I sit.

“No problem.”

He walks around the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat. The engine hums to life the second he turns the key. I buckle my seatbelt as he pulls out of the spot. My hands rest awkwardly on my knees. His fingers slide through mine, and I inhale. From the corner of my eye, I see his mouth tilt upward.

“Having a good time?”

“Unfortunately,” I grumble.

“There’s my girl,” he says, glancing over, one side of his mouth curling.

His girl.

“I’m your girl now?”

“Do you want to be?” he asks.

Am I really about to let a man whose name I didn’t even know twenty-four hours ago call me his girl?

I tighten my grip on his hand. Yes. I very much am.

“I thought so,” he says.

Michael flips his turn signal on and turns down my street, guiding the car easily through the quiet row of houses before pulling into my driveway. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as he eases it into park and shuts the engine off. The sudden silence inside the car feels strangely loud.

He reaches for the door handle, but before he can open it, my hand shoots out and grabs his arm. Michael turns toward me, brows lifting slightly in question, but whatever he’s about to say never makes it out. I lean across the center console and kiss him.

The kiss is reckless, my mouth meeting his. For half a second, he lets it happen. Then he takes control.