Page 115 of Phishing for Love
“What exactly is your problem?” I demand.
He looks at me then, his eyes burning into mine. “Youare my problem, Tess.”
My stomach does a peculiar little flip. This is not the cool, calm Aaron I’m accustomed to. This Aaron radiates heat and hunger. Oddly enough, I’m not at all intimidated. If anything, excitement stirs inside me.
“You better leave,” he says, his voice low and guttural.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this office now.” His eyes are glittering, and his hands are fisted at his sides, as if he’s barely restraining himself.
I don’t move. My pulse thuds in my ears.
Aaron hasn’t laid a finger on me, but his eyes are touching me everywhere.
Before I lose courage, I ask the question that I somehowknowis going to tumble us over the edge into the abyss. “What do you want me to stop?”
“I want you to stop scrunching your nose when you’re deep in thought,” he says in a rough voice, taking a sure and measured step toward me. I hold my ground. “I want you to stop stretching so that your shirt rides up.” Another step. “I want you to stop biting your lip when you’re nervous.”
He closes the remaining distance between us until he’s only a breath away.
I stare up at him, my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t move. I can’t speak.
“But most of all,” he says huskily, backing me up against the wall with his hard body, caging me in with his arms on either side of me, “I want you to stop wearing those damn boots.”
I hold his gaze. “Why do you think I wear them?”
“Tess.”
It gives me ridiculous pleasure to hear him say my name like that. Like I’m someone special to him. Like I’m one of those chocolates you keep in your mouth as long as possible to experience maximum pleasure.
A surreal feeling rolls over me as I watch him lower his head and frame my face with his hands.
He stares at me for what feels like the longest minute of my life. On a harsh, defeated exhale, he says, “I knew you were going to be trouble the moment you called me a pretty boy.”
Then he crashes his mouth down on mine.
My lips part and he slides his tongue inside.
The moment I taste him, my knees give out and he has to hold me up. I’m surrounded by his heat and power and strength. It’s intoxicating. All I crave is him.
“I’ve wanted to do this the first time I laid eyes on you,” he murmurs against my lips. “The first time you opened that sassy mouth of yours I wanted to teach it a lesson.”
I arch against him. My words come out all throaty. “Teach me then. Make it a lesson I’ll never forget.”
With a groan, Aaron slants his mouth over mine and takes complete charge of the kiss. Exactly as I imagined he would. What wasn’t in my imagination is how fierce and consuming and desperate the kiss is. And how completely it steals my breath away. I’m throbbing with my need for him.
That night in the bar, when I brought up the KISS principle in what feels like a thousand lifetimes ago, Aaron hadn’t lied. There is nothing simple or straightforward about the way he kisses. The man kisses like it’s his calling. He’s possessive and tender and fierce all at the same time.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he rasps, his fingers threading through my hair and his tongue tangling with mine. I can’t get enough of him either.
One hand moves to the nape of my neck to anchor me, while his other hand slides under the hem of my shirt to press his palm against the small of my bare back, urging my body closer. I let myself melt against him.
“You’re killing me here,” he murmurs.
“What a way to die,” I murmur back, biting his lip and digging my nails into the muscles of his back. He groans into my mouth. The sound of his pleasure drives me insane. Our bodies are pressed so close there’s not an inch of space between us.
I feel singed. And completely overcome.
