Page 62 of Bridesmaid for Hire
And when I’m about to ask him for more explanation, he instead closes the distance between us, pinches my chin with his thumb and forefinger, and tilts my head back.
Our eyes meet momentarily, his dark to my light and, when I search his, the only answer I get is his lips pressing against mine.
I’m caught off guard.
Confused.
But also aroused because I don’t think there will ever be a moment when this man kisses me, and I don’t feel it all the way down to my toes.
When I don’t swoon from the way his lips work over mine.
Or where I don’t want to melt into his arms and stay there for as long as he allows me.
And that’s what I can’t stand about myself. Ireallyshouldn’t enjoy his kisses.
I actually hate that I like his lips on mine because this man is infuriating. One moment he’s snapping at me, saying things to me that…that make me feel less than I should and then the next, he’s apologizing and kissing me.
It doesn’t make sense.
It’s toxic.
And it’s not behavior I want to participate in no matter how much it makes droves of butterflies take flight in my stomach.
This is exactly the reminder that I need to stay away from him. To detach myself.
But God does his mouth feel so good.
His lips.
The hold he has on me.
I hate that I like it so much.
When he releases my mouth, I feel satisfied that it’s over, saddened that we aren’t doing it anymore, and so distraught over my emotional roller coaster that I don’t notice him leaning in close enough so his mouth is on my ear as he says, “Don’t forget that you belong to me, Maggie. Stop flirting with Hardy and Hudson or I’m going to make more of a display, so they know exactly whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight. Got it?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, pulling away just enough to catch his expression. “You can’t be serious.”
His eyes meet mine. “I’ve never been more fucking serious.”
“You’re acting like a Neanderthal. I was not flirting.”
“Could have fooled me.”
My eyes narrow and I poke him in the chest. “Do not accuse me of flirting with anyone. It’s called getting to know people, getting on their good side. Maybe you should try it instead of scowling in the freaking corner. Remember what I said. We’re here for business, so start acting like it.”
I try to move past him, but he stops me, his hand to my stomach. “Do not fucking walk away from me.”
This man. He’s so infuriating.
So up and down.
Pick a freaking lane, man.
“Don’t give me a reason to,” I say.
I’m just about to pull away again, but he takes my hand in his and brings my knuckles up to his lips. All for show, for the crowd to see that we aren’t having a lover’s spat, but rather intimately talking. He presses a few kisses to my knuckles, which only makes me want to flick him in the nose.
Flirting.
