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She quirks a brow back at me.
Touché.
“A little too cocky; you think I will swoon at your feet and forget myself? I might just show you a thing or two, Royal.”
“You poor, poor, naïve woman. Of course, you need a safe word because if Tucker Royal hasn’t kissed you before—a safe word isindeeda necessity. My kiss willneverbe just a kiss. Cough up a word, Hamlet.”
She laughs softly. “So cocky and sure of yourself.”
“Safe word, now, woman. Think of something that makes you happy or proud.”
“Sunflower.” She walks over to my bedroom door and quietly shuts it before coming over to stand a few feet back from me. “Now, shut up and kiss me before I change my mind.”
“Such a spitfire,” I murmur, crooking my finger, beckoning her to come much closer. When she stays where she is, I reach out, threading my fingers through both of her hands, pulling her forward until she’s standing between my spread legs.
“Jesus, woman, you are beautiful.” She’s got stitches in her forehead, bruising around her eye, and all I see is a perfect creature in front of me. I wish I could capture this moment in a photo because everything for me will change once we kiss. I will know what I can’t have for the next ten weeks.
Caveman groans.
I don’t even think she realizes she is wetting her lips with her tongue because her focus is on my mouth. “One kiss,” she whispers.
“Last chance, Hamlet, you only have to say your safe word, and I will stop.”
Grasping her hips, I tug her closer, snaking a hand around the back of her neck, pulling down gently.
We are now so close I can feel her breath touch my lips. I pause. She doesn’t yet know it, but her life is about to change because whether she knows it, I will be making sure she doesn’t forget me when we part ways tomorrow, and I can be very creative.
“Royal, snap out of it. If you are having second thoughts—”
I press a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I am just enjoying the view.” I chuckle at her impatience. “Are you getting itchy?”
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” Her irritation is an act.
“Oh, Shagspeare, I thought you would never ask.”
I’ve been dying to use that one.
“You didnotjust call me ‘Shagspeare!’” She puts on a good show, not smiling at that nickname, but I can see the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Sure, I did. A friend of mine is British,” he says as though that explains how he came up with Shagspeare. “I have been waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip it in. No pun intended.”
“You won’t be getting to home base, big guy. There will be no slipping anything in.”
“Okay.”Insert inner monologue groan.“One last chance to jump ship.”
“Tuck-er,” she grumbles softly.
But I am deadly serious. “What’s your safe word again?”
She playfully punches my shoulder.
I wait.
She sighs dramatically. “Sunflower.”
“Hamlet, just to be clear. This kiss has waited for you andonlyyou, my entire life.”
Twenty-Two
