Page 69 of Hypnotized By Love

I tried to nod, but my head was not cooperating. “I do hate it. And you.”

Then he moved his lips over to my earlobe and sucked it gently into his mouth. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I arched against him.

“What about that?”

“I hate that the most,” I gasped. How could I loathe someone this much and still crave his touch like this?

Then I felt his free hand at the top of my sundress, undoing the first button as he kissed his way down my neck and flicked his tongue acrossmy clavicle. I realized where he was headed, and it was a testament to how desperate we were for each other that he had apparently completely forgotten about all the other people currently in the house.

“Stop,” I said, and every cell in my body cried out in protest at my stupidity.

At that, he immediately released me, causing my arms to drop. He stepped back and held both of his hands aloft, like I was trying to arrest him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathing hard.

My own chest was heaving just as hard as his, and it took me a second to get enough oxygen into my lungs so that I could speak. He had nothing to apologize for. I was the one who had kissed him first.

Even though he had provoked me by being so annoying and irresistible.

“I can’t think when you do that,” I said, not able to explain why I’d told him to stop any other way.

He lowered his hands. “When I do what? Kiss you?”

I nodded, gulping hard.

The sexy and knowing smile that spread across his face was almost my undoing. “That’s a good thing.”

It was a very good thing, but that was beside the point. “People saw you. Us. Together. The morning of the false fire alarm. They know that you were my client. And I could get in trouble.”

“Why would you get in trouble?”

It was an indication of how much my family and Bridget loved me that this piece of gossip hadn’t made the rounds.

But I couldn’t give a journalist any ammunition, especially when he planned on doing a story about me. I had to keep it vague.

“I just would. We can’t.” My body was making a very strong argument about why it was a bad idea to tell him to stop, and I was definitely listening.

He looked from side to side and then said, “Are any of those people here in this room?”

My skin flushed in response, in anticipation. “No. But we shouldn’t be doing this.” My protest sounded weak even to my own ears.

“I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted it ever since the moment I laid eyes on you again, glaring at me like you were ready to murder me.” He said it like it was endearing.

“I am ready to murder you.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

That was the question of the day. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he said with such certainty that it made my spine feel like Jell-O. He came closer and closer to me, and I held my breath, waiting. It was like torture.

Until the moment when his chest made contact with mine and I let out a whimper of relief because this was exactly what I wanted. He rested his right forearm against the bookshelf, above my head. He trailed his left fingers along my jawline until he reached my sensitized lips, and when he rubbed his thumb against them, I had to bite back a moan.

“Say yes, Sinclair. It will feel so good to say yes. Try new things and see how good it makes you feel.” He was so seductive and alluring that it took me a second to figure out where I’d heard that before.

It was what I had said to him in our hypnosis session. He was trying to use my own words against me. “That’s not going to work. You can’t hypnotize me.”

“Yes, I can.”

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