Page 7 of Man of the Month Club: May
After we walk into my kitchen, we stand there gaping at each other. The sexual tension that had built up while we were bickering at Wendy’s seems to have completely dissipated.
In an attempt to charm her and get us back on track, I say, “I think maybe we’ve been destined to be together since that first moment when we locked gazes and scowled at each other over that parking space. We just didn’t know it yet.”
She has the audacity to scoff at me before asking, “Does that kind of cheesy line ever work for you?”
“Yes, every time,” I assure her before adding, “so don’t be the single mar on my perfect record.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not nearly as charming as you obviously believe yourself to be,” she says, looking like she doesn’t actually hate breaking the news to me at all.
“You know, I’ve always heard that there is a thin line between love and hate. Do you believe that could be true?”
“Perhaps,” she answers. After mulling it over for a moment, she adds, “I guess we’re going to find out.”
Awkwardness begins to set in again, so I ask, “Are you thirsty? Would you like a beverage?”
“I could use some ice water,” she answers, so I head over to the cabinet to retrieve a glass for her.
When she takes the glass out of my hand, I offer, “I’ll get it for you.”
“I think I can find where you keep the ice,” she tells me as she heads to the freezer to help herself.
As she takes several large gulps of her chilled water, I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am. She proves that she might be by turning to me and saying, “I can be extremely difficult to get along with because I’m always right about everything.”
I grin at her before answering, “What a coincidence… because I’m never wrong about anything. I can see why Phoebe’s app matched us. Sounds like we should be super compatible.”
Our gazes lock together as we share a quiet moment of amusement over how wrong we obviously are for each other.
“Not everyone thinks it’s worth the trouble to break through my walls, and that’s okay. They’re wrong, though. I am worth the work, but I tend to think there are two ways to go about everything––my way and the wrong way,” she tells me.
Believing her and deciding to be vulnerable, I say, “It’s clear that we both have stubborn and obnoxious streaks. We will probably bicker nonstop, but I think we owe it to ourselves to see if this can turn into something real. My guess is that we will discover a fiery passion burning between us that isn’t like anything either of us have ever experienced before.”
“Perhaps,” she says, before adding, “But what if we end up wanting to strangle each other?”
I shrug my shoulders before asking her, “Or what if we end up falling madly in love?”
“It would be unfortunate timing because I’ve been intending to take a mancation to allow me to focus all of my attention on my artwork,” she says as if falling in love would ruin her grand plans.
“The men of the world would appreciate that,” I say, without thinking––quickly falling back into the comfortable pattern of firing insults at her. When she angles a narrow-eyed glare in my direction, I add, “I didn’t mean that. There’s just something about you that brings out this unfamiliar, primal, and aggressive side of me.”
She sets her glass down and steps forward into my personal space before suggesting in a husky voice, “Show me more, you sexy savage.”
Happy to oblige, I lean down and crush my lips to hers.
7
Poppy
My hot and cold feelings for Cooper don’t make a lick of sense. One minute I want to clobber him, and the next, I’m desperate to cling to him in the throes of passion. I’ve never felt this burning need for anyone, and it’s terrifying.
His tantalizing kiss is bold and confident. It is filled with an irresistible fervency that leaves me aching for more. He brings his warm palms to the sides of my face, cradling my cheeks like I am the most precious being he’s ever encountered.
I moan into his mouth as our tongues find each other and slowly slide together, mimicking the sensuous tango our bodies long to engage in. He keeps kissing me senseless as one of his hands begins exploring the bare skin that my one-shouldered dress leaves exposed.
His finger trails a tantalizingly slow line down the side of my neck, along my collarbone, across my shoulder, and down the entire length of my arm––all the way to my fingertips. That simple touch creates a vibrating tingle in its wake that makes the tiny hairs along my arm stand up and prickle with awareness.
My free hand comes up to rub his scruffy jawline. His short beard tickles my palms in a most delightful way. I’m convinced this has to be as good as it gets when he proves me wrong by leaning down to lightly nuzzle those bristles along my neck as he presses sweet kisses to my sensitive skin.
Needing to feel more of him, my fingers begin working to unbutton his dark dress shirt. As soon as I have the tiny buttons free, I ease my palms down over his smooth chest and along the sides of his flat abdomen.
