Page 85 of Take It Till You Make It
“May I kiss you, Ari?”
His voice is so low, I think I feel it more than hear it. My stomach lurches with some strange response, like it wants to force my entire body forward against him.
“You want to kiss me?” I literally have no idea why I asked that. Maybe I’m trying to stall so he doesn’t learn how completely novice I am at this boy-girl thing.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you stormed away from me in wardrobe that first day I met you.”
I jerk back to look at him. “What? That’s weird.” My voice is no longer quiet. As a matter of fact, it sounded like I yelled, even though I used a normal tone.
He chuckles, his gaze hops between my eyes and my lips. “I agree. It was an unexpected reaction that had me bespelled by you from that moment forward.”
I stare at him with a doubtful look as I imagine him filled with the desire to kiss me after being so rude. “That literally makes no sense.”
Tilting his head, he takes in all of me. “I think it was at that moment that my mind and body recognized what an incredible, independent, smart, and capable woman you are. At the risk of sounding like a caveman, I think I wanted to claim you as mine.”
My mouth drops open, then I snap it closed, because as caveman-ny as that is, it’s also flipping hot. Especially since he didn’t give in to his base instincts. That would have been gross. But now that I know he isn’t that guy, I imagine what it would have been like for him to stalk after me, take me in his arms, and kiss me silly. I bite my lips. “Cavemen are kind of hot.”
He chuckles, and his hand skims up my neck to cup my face. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Bring it, caveman,” I whisper.
We’re both grinning when our lips touch, but the jolt of heat and brush of velvet shocks the smile off my face. His lips move expertly against mine, and I turn my mind off so I can just enjoy the sensation and not worry if I’m responding properly. And boy, do I enjoy the sensation. It isn’t anything like I anticipated kissing him would be. I thought he’d be somehow more selfish, but he is all about taking his time getting to know my lips. I feel myself melting against him, and suddenly my hand is wrapping around his neck, and my fingers are burying themselves into his silken hair. I tilt my head so our lips are better aligned, and I sigh, which makes him lean into me more.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sweeps my lips open, and a foreign little sound I’ve never made before – like a moan – escapes me. Crispin pulls me closer, and I feel like my head is going to explode in the best way.
Without warning, he lessens the pressure against my lips and is no longer pulling me against him. His lips slow, and he breaks contact. My eyes pop open because I wonder if I did something wrong, but his eyes remain closed as he tips his forehead against mine.
His breathing is fast, and it feathers across my face and neck when he touches his nose to mine. Finally, he opens his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”
I blink. With his face so close, I can’t read his expression, but I can feel him struggle for control. It’s scary and exciting to know I can make him feel that way.
“That was…” He closes his eyes for a beat. “You are intoxicating.”
I smile as he pulls back.
“But it’s important to me that we take this slow. So, I’ll be better.”
I bite my tongue. “I mean…I liked it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I swear I feel when his gaze drops to my lips. “I’m glad to hear that, but I am more worried about keeping myself in check.”
“Oh!”
He leans in and gives me a leisurely kiss before suggesting, “Maybe we should go.”
I could sit on this rock and kiss him until the sun comes up, but I don’t want him to be miserable, so I nod and accept his help to stand. As I follow him back to the car, something about the sand clinging to his expensive black suit fills me with happiness.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I answerthe doorbell Saturday morning, I’m shocked to be staring at a man driving a handcart with a large paper-wrapped item on it.
He looks at the paperwork taped to the top of the item, which is as tall as him. “Delivery for Arabelle Quill.” He stutters over my first name like it has four “ls”.
“Oh.” I indicate for him to come in.
“Says here to put it on the patio.” The guy points to the paper as if that proves the truth of his statement.
“Okay then.” I lead the way across the living room and roll the door all the way open for him. Queen Brie, who’s outside, laying in the sun, beelines inside and disappears down the hall to the bedrooms.
