Page 16 of Wild Curves
A meaty hand reaches down, and he takes a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. The gesture is so simple and so sweet it makes my heart flutter in my chest.
“Your hair looks cute under the chef’s hat,” he says. “You’re a beautiful woman, Maggie, and a talented chef. I wish your mom could see that.”
I’m frozen in place, looking up at him. I want to believe him. I do. My heart’s racing as his thumb skims my cheek.
“If you’re fucking with me, Arlo, this is going too far.”
His thumb brushes against my lip, and I gasp at the sensation.
“I’m not fucking with you, Maggie. I’ve wanted you ever since you started working at the restaurant. I’m not pretending.”
His hand slides around the back of my head, and he tilts my face up to him. My lips part as my heart hammers against my rib cage.
“I want you here in my cabin always, babydoll.”
His lips press against mine and a tingle spreads through my body all the way down to my toes. He tastes like coffee and cake and temptation. And I can’t get enough.
His body moves towards me, until I feel my breasts press against his muscular chest. The kiss deepens and his hand slides down my back, pulling me toward him until I bump against something hard.
I gasp in surprise when I realize what it is. But not before my body has a response that I can’t control. Wet heat surges between my legs. My pussy flutters and I grind myself against him, wanting him, needing him.
Then I remember where I am, and all the reasons why I can’t be with a man. Why I shouldn’t lead him on. My eyes flick open, and I slip out of his grasp.
“I can’t, Arlo.”
Disappointment clouds his face as I back away. My insides churn. He felt so freaking good, but I can’t go any further. I’ve spent too long on my career; I won’t give it up for a man. And it wouldn’t be fair to him.
“Maggie…”
Arlo takes a step toward me and I hold my hand up, cutting him off.
“I’m sorry, Arlo. You’re my fake date, nothing more.”
Hurt flashes across his face, but I turn and flee up the stairs before I do something I regret.
8
ARLO
It's hard to sleep when there’s a pint sized goddess in your spare room. Somehow, I make it through the night without ripping Maggie’s door down and ravishing her. I had a taste of her lips last night, and I’m hungry for more. But she needs time.
I don’t believe I’m nothing to her. The way she kissed me yesterday with hunger and passion told a different story. I need to convince her we’re meant to be together.
Maggie doesn’t realize how damn gorgeous she is. She’s a queen, and today I’m going to treat her like one.
I’m up early to make breakfast, hoping the smell of bacon will lure her out of the spare room. When she doesn’t come out of her room, I make up a tray and take it to her.
“Maggie?”
There’s no response when I knock on the door, so I push it open a crack and call again.
The shower’s running in the adjoining bathroom, so I put the tray down on the bedside table. She’s only slept in here one night, but her scent lingers, icing sugar and sweetness and something feminine and floral.
I’m about to leave when the shower turns off, and a moment later she comes through the bathroom door.
Maggie’s wrapped in a bath towel, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. Water droplets glisten on her chest, and the mounds of her breasts swell above the line of the towel.
My mouth goes dry as I cast my eyes over her. She might be pint sized, but she’s perfection, her curves bursting out of the towel.
