“Good.” I struggle to thread a string of brain cells together and finish with, “Please, come in.”
He steps forward, my eyes sneaking another glimpse downward, and I swear, that loose cannon under the gray fabric is getting bigger.
He doesn’t go for one of the chairs, or my desk, or off toward the window like most clients, but straight at me. His eyes connect to mine and there’s a tug in my chest like a line pulling me forward. As I lean into the vibration, my balance falters in more ways than one.
“I’m in,” he grumbles in a thick, gravely tone that shakes me down to my bones. “I’m King. Dr. Hoffman said you could help me.”
“Yes, I hope so.” The words come out dry and flat, the thumping heartbeat and gathering heat in my chest sucking all the air from the room. I clear my throat, noticing his hair is damp, and for a split second, I imagine his soapy hand moving up and down on his—
“So, red dress is the cuddler,” he mutters on a disbelieving head shake and a sniff. “Damn, karma’s on my side for once.”
He reaches for my face, as my brain comes back online. I step back, an involuntary sound chirping in the back of my throat, as I re-group and get whatever chemical imbalance he’s causing inside me under control.
“Yes, I am, but… But…”
Girl, your brain is not a potato, stick to the program.
With a hard swallow. “Let’s go through some things first.”
The floor suddenly feels like it’s made of marshmallows as I retreat another two steps, a swirl of some sexy male pheromone making the room wavy around the edges.
“What do we need to go through?” His voice reaches out and licks at my skin, his face a battleground of scars and brokenbones, which only amplifies his sex appeal. A chip on his front tooth sets off a battalion of butterflies in my belly.
“First,” I cough, the edge of my desk biting into my ass stalling my retreat, but I manage to right myself before I turn into a whimpering puddle, “it would be prudent for us to clear things up about what happened last night, so we can start fresh.”
“Yes.” He continues forward, pushing inside my personal space, waves of heat flicking at my breasts. “We do need to do that. Are you okay? I’ve been worried.”
“You’ve been… What? Am I okay?” I repeat, blinking once, twice, three times.
“Yeah.Are. You. Okay?Are you in any pain in here?” He brushes the backs of his fingers over my sternum, picking up the gold yin and yang pendant around my neck as my skin comes alive under his touch. He drops the gold emblem, raising his fingers to tap on my forehead. “Or in here?”
I forget how to speak as he brushes my hair behind my ear in a motion so sweet and intimate, my toes curl in my sneakers as I stare up at his perfectly imperfect face, a tsunami of arousal coating the inside of my panties.
“I’m—I’m, yes, I’m fine.”
“I mean, finding out your boyfriend is married. That’s…” He shakes his head, nostrils flared, with a menacing darkness in his eyes that should scare me. Instead, it only makes me want toreach up and trace my fingers down the long, ragged scar on his left cheek. “A gut punch.”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I correct in an urgent burst.
Rule number one of the Cuddlist Code...Don’t share personal information.
“Good thing. Then, you weren’t…with him?” The question implies more than if we were sharing physical space. I shake my head, ignoring rule number one.
“No. It was that dating app, Hollar. Third date. I didn’t even really like him.”
Good job, Emee not sharing anything personal.
“That dress you were wearing said otherwise.”
“What do you think it was saying?”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t saying it to him, but it was saying it to me, ‘Take me. Own me. Save me. Keep me.’ And I intend to do all of those.”
Chapter 5
King
Thisgirl was on a dating app?
