Page 46 of Tempting Kat
I cross my arms over my chest, painfully aware that I'm wearing the same clothes I worked in, now wrinkled and smelling of spilled beer.
“I don’t need a daddy, but thanks.”
He stands up in one fluid motion, and fuck me if he doesn't somehow look even taller and broader than I remember. As if I hadn’t just seen him less than an hour ago. He moves toward me with a predatory grace that makes my stomach flip, stopping just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
“Hm, well one thing for sure is that what you need,” he says, his voice dropping to that register that makes my thighs clench, “is to learn when to accept help.”
“What I need is a shower and some sleep, not a lecture from my stalker boss.”
His eyes darken at the word 'stalker,' but he doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin just long enough to send shivers down my spine.
“The bathroom's through there,” he says, nodding toward a door on the right.
I step back, breaking contact with his hand. “Great. Thanks for the tour. You can go now.”
His jaw tightens at my dismissal, and the muscle in his cheek twitches. I shouldn't find it hot, but fuck me if I don't want to lick it.
“I'm not leaving,” he says, and his voice is so deep it practically vibrates through me.
“I'm a big girl, Conrad. I can handle myself.” I step around him, deliberately brushing against his shoulder as I pass, just to be a bitch.
His hand shoots out, wrapping around my wrist like a manacle. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't easily pull away.
“That's the problem, isn't it?” he says, pulling me closer until I can smell his cologne. Something expensive and woodsy that makes my mouth water. “You're so used to handling everything yourself that you can't recognize when someone wants to take care of you.”
I yank my arm, but his grip tightens. “Let go.”
“Make me,” he challenges, those dark eyes boring into mine.
Something inside me snaps. I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I'm fucking horny, and this man has been driving me insane for weeks. I surge forward, grabbing his shirt with my free hand and yanking him down to my level.
Our lips crash together, and holy shit, it's like someone lit a match in a pool of gasoline. His mouth is hot and demanding against mine, and I can taste liquor on his tongue as it slides against my own. He groans into my mouth, a primal sound that makes my pussy clench.
I bite his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss, and he retaliates by releasing my wrist only to grab a handful of my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his body so I can feel every hard inch of him.
“Fuck,” I gasp against his mouth. “I fucking hate you.”
“No, you don't,” he growls, his teeth grazing my jaw. “You hate how much you want me.”
He's right, but I'd rather die than admit it. Instead, I push him back against the wall, my hands fumbling with the buttonsof his shirt. I want to feel his skin, need to touch him like I need my next breath.
Conrad lets me have control for about three seconds before he's spinning us around, pinning me to the wall with his body. His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly so my legs wrap around his waist.
“Two fucking weeks,” he snarls against my neck, his teeth scraping my pulse point. “Two weeks of your bratty little texts and you ignoring my fucking calls.”
I grind against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, loving the way his breath hitches. “Poor baby,” I taunt, rolling my hips harder.
His grip tightens in my hair, and before I can even process what's happening, Conrad's walking through the suite, carrying me like I weigh nothing. My legs are still wrapped around his waist, his mouth still hot on my neck, and I'm clinging to him like my life depends on it.
“You think you can tease me for weeks and not face consequences?” He growls against my throat, kicking open a door to what must be the bedroom.
“What are you gonna do about it?” I taunt, digging my nails down his back through his shirt.
The next thing I know, I'm airborne. He tosses me onto the massive bed like I'm nothing more than a rag doll. I bounce once on the plush mattress, trying to catch my breath, but he's on me in an instant, his large hands gripping the waistband of my jean shorts.
“These fucking shorts,” he snarls, yanking them down my legs in one swift motion. “Do you have any idea what they do to me? How many men stare at your ass when you bend over?”
I try to kick at him, but he catches my ankle easily. “Maybe I like being looked at.”
