Page 60 of Interpreter

Sorry, Gretchen. When I leave, I might beg him to come with me. I don’t know that I’m going to be able to give this man up. His mouth is firm, hot, and unyielding. He dominates my mouth with little to no effort.

“Does my voice repulse you?” he mumbles into my mouth, breaking our kiss for the first time.

Say what?

Like he didn’t mean to let his question slip, he rips his face away and steps back, frowning at the baseboards like he’s on spider watch or something.

And what do I do?

I stand there, watching his jaw clench, and blink like there’s an eyelash in my eye.

Is his voice repulsive?

Is he drunk? He didn’t even finish his one beer….

Maybe he’s joking? I don’t get all the American terminology sometimes.

But his body is tense under my hands, and his eyes still haven’t come up from his “spider watching.”

Not a joke, obviously.

Gently, I slip two fingers under his chin and lift his face to mine.

Ahh, that’s better. Those deep mahogany eyes always suck me in.

“You’re loco if you thinkanypart of you is repulsive.”

His lip twitches like it pained him to read the words off my lips, but I don’t let him turn away. He brought it up, and he’s going to know how I feel about his voice.

Repulsive? Ha! If he only knew that his voice speaks straight to my vagina. It’s like he’s the panty whisperer. The rasp… the broken cadence… yeah, let’s set this man straight right now.

I squeeze his scruffy jaw between my fingers and hold his eyes, daring him to look away.

He grunts, which has me almost smiling. Now I’m the one manhandling Mr. Lambros, and he doesn’t care for it.

Hello, wet panties. Nice of you to join me.

With a twitch of my lip, I turn serious, chest to chest with the man I’m about to do naughty things with because really, it’s time. “Give me your hand,” I demand, enunciating clearly so he can read my lips in the dim lighting. That crazy strong jaw of his clenches under my fingers, but after a moment, he sighs and places his hand in mine again. Pushing his palm against my throat, I speak, “Do you need evidence on hownotrepulsed I am by your voice?”

He swallows thickly.

He knows I’m baiting him.

I squeeze his jaw just little.

“Answer me, Mr. Lambros.”

“Yes.”

One word. It’s choppy and breathy, but it’s exactly what I need to hear as I push his palm flatter against my throat and move it down my chest. Past my breasts—I know, not this time, ladies—and over my navel. I angle his hand to the side so when it slips past the slip of my dress and between my legs where he has the proper angle for my next move.

“Don’t ever doubt me again,” I say, watching as his eyes flash with something deeper, something hungry, and then I push his hand between my legs and hold it to my center where there is enough heat to burn us both.

I swallow the sudden nerves of having this sexy-ass man at ground zero and attempt to stay confident. “Go ahead, Mr. Lambros, get your evidence. See what your voice does to me.”

Okay, so that last line snapped the last little bit of control he had. As soon as I said the last word, my hands were off him in a flash and bracing me from the impact of hitting the wall behind us.

“Your mouth drives me crazy, and I can’t even hear you,” he growls, holding my neck at an angle so he can get to my throat.

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