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My breathing turns shallow as I try to tamp down my anger in the silence. Yes, anger. Nothing else. I’m definitely not turned on by his firm body smashed up against my own.
I know what he’s doing. He thinks that if he inserts himself on the couch with me and I’m uncomfortable enough, he can make me crack and I’ll take the bed.
Well, he better guess again if he thinks he’ll win because my resolve when it comes to Jace Taggart is made of steel.
I roll over and sit up slightly to face him and tell him as much, barely stopping myself from spiraling off onto the floor. “If you want me off this couch,” I say, jaw clenched, “you’ll have to make me get off.” I regret my choice of words the moment they leave my mouth, and based on the heat flaring in Jace’s gaze, he caught the double entendre. He starts to shift, hands reaching under my legs. “And I swear to God if you try to carry me, I’ll kick you in the balls before you have the chance,” I add.
His eyes darken to denim in twilight and time slows. “Fine.” His lips curl. “I’ll make you get off another way.”
I gasp, but before I can protest, he straightens and pushes me. I start to fall before I yelp and grapple with his arm. But he doesn’t count on me having the dexterity of a spider monkey as I cling to him like a suction cup to prevent myself from crashing to the floor.
He tries to stand, but I’m still attached, starfishing his body like I have suction cups on my limbs, even as he tries to peel me off.
“What the fuck?” He extricates one arm only to go for the other as I suction right back onto him.
“My limbs are glue,” I say, beginning to pant from the exertion of maintaining my grip on him.
Sweat beads at the back of my neck as he takes another tactic and lowers me back onto the couch where my hold on him backfires. I’m suctioned to him so tightly, he comes with me, theweight of his body pressing me back into the cushions. I struggle harder to maintain my hold as he tries to remove himself from my grip.
After a couple minutes of my floundering, he stops fighting me. The tension in his muscles eases. Our heavy breathing fills the silence between us as we find a momentary truce to catch our breath. Our eyes meet and the hard planes of his chest press against the soft swell of my own, the heat of his breath washing over my neck as I become increasingly aware of all our points of contact. His heart beats against mine, pounding a steady rhythm while my legs tighten around his waist.
I want to unwind myself from him like a shriveling vine, but I’m afraid to move. To breathe. Especially when his gaze drops to my lips and something dark glitters in his eyes.
My stomach swoops like I’m plunging down the steep dip of a roller coaster, and before I have a chance to react, he crushes his mouth to mine.
I’m frozen in place, iced over as my mind registers the contact.
His mouth is warm and impatient as he brushes his lips against my own, then slants his mouth again to try and coax a reaction from me.
But my mind is playing catch up.
This is Jace Taggart.
His mouth is on mine.
And he’s kissing me.
It’s obvious he’s no amateur by the way his mouth expertly parts my own, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips and cajoling me into action as I begin to kiss him back.
The ice around my heart thaws at the taste of mint on his tongue. It figures he’d taste as good as he looks. Everything about him is dangerous. Even his tongue is weaponized. But I’m onto him. The war he’s started is not lost on me. He’s pulled out the big guns. He thinks this will scare me off. That I’ll retreatlike some delicate flower. That by kissing me, I’ll be repulsed or pissed—he’s probably banking on both—and retreat to his room like a coward.
Boy is he wrong.
Two can play this game.
My mouth parts and I angle my head, brushing my tongue against his as my hands sink into his thick locks, yanking slightly at the roots and smiling when he sucks in a breath, clearly surprised I’m so fervently reciprocating. His shock fades quickly, though, as he slides one hand up my side, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. His hand stops at my jaw, angling my face so he can gain better access to my mouth.
He’s experienced, I know this. Jace Taggart has been with his fair share of girls. Heshouldbe good at this. Yet his kiss still exceeds my already high expectations. In fact, he’s so skilled, it’s not hard to understand why girls drop their panties at his feet.
Fireworks burst behind my eyelids. The burning heat of arousal claws up my spine, awakening places in my body that have long since gone into hibernation.
He tries to dominate the kiss as the delicious weight of him pushes me further into the cushions, hips pressing into mine, hands everywhere as I try to keep pace.
My hands slide underneath his shirt, tracing the hard ridges of his muscles, mesmerized by the way they undulate under my touch. A growl vibrates in the back of his throat in response as he drags his teeth over my bottom lip, hands moving to the sliver of skin below the hem of my shirt. They leave a trail of fire, torching every inch he touches.
I moan when his mouth moves to my neck, pressing soft kisses under my jaw until he reaches my mouth again. A shift of his weight, and I can feel his arousal, hard against my stomach.
Alarm bells go off in my head, and I blink my eyes open, staring at the ceiling as reality comes crashing in.
