Page 100 of The Perfect Wrong

But I force a smile, get her talking about this shallow dope, Marnie. I’ll never understand how they’re best friends.

Delia needs the laughter, the passion, about as much as she needs my mouth all over her body.

She can’t stop smiling as her pecks of food turn into proper bites.

When we’re done eating, an impulse takes over.

Reaching under the table, I grab her foot and hold it in my lap, massaging her ankle gently.

I noticed it’s slightly bruised this morning, twisted from the way she walks, courtesy of the merry band of scumfucks I dispatched.

She goes quiet, casting small, shy looks at me.

I swear on everything holy those mahogany eyes could take me to heaven.

“If anything hurts, tell me,” I say. “We’ll get you a doctor.”

My hand works her arch, my fingers working deep into her tissue.

It’s damnably impossible not to think about the way her toes curl—and how I could curl them more if these feet were wrapped around my ass while I drive hard, having her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Fuck.

“So. A man of many talents,” she says, her laughter fading as she watches me massaging up her ankle. “I won’t lie—I thought you were kinda an arrogant jackass when we first met.”

“Still am. Total donkey and proud of it. Deal with it,” I tell her with a shrug. “I know what I want in life more than anything. I stopped caring what the hell people think a long time ago.”

Her smile softens to worn empathy.

I think she gets it, even if I’m ruining this head trip where she sees normal Chris, and not a carefully honed killing machine.

I polish off the last of my wine and stand, heading for the balcony. She follows me outside just as a breeze sweeps in, tossing her raven-dark hair around in tresses.

“Still want that brownie sundae later? Sounds like it’s as big as my head. I’ll need backup if we’re gonna tackle Mount Chocolate.”

“Oh, man, I can’t even. Rain check?” Smiling, she lays a hand against her belly. “I’m about to burst at the seams. Kinda got carried away while you were talking, but I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

“Damn right.” I take her hands and jerk her up, spinning her into my chest. “We’ll do the sundae later. Frankly, I’ve built up an appetite for something else.”

I don’t give her time to react.

Just push her against the wall and throw my lips on hers, pouring out my heat, my need, all the molten desire I’ve bottled up since I first laid eyes on this woman and had my first stolen kisses.

The sheer force takes her by surprise.

So does the rough groan that slips into her mouth.

Damn.

Damn it all.

She’s just that hot.

This is what you do to me, woman.

She’s stock-still for about ten seconds, but finally she melts, opening her lips for my tongue to stroke deeper, slick lines, tracing her mouth.

I kiss Delia the same way I want to fuck her—hard and deep—reaching down to her soul.

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