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“No. Not this.”
“What’s this then?”
“I’m not sure.”
He smiled against my mouth. “This was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“No?”
“What if it was?”
“I want to hear you say the words.”
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.”
“Says the girl who’s still sitting on my lap. You want me to kiss you again, kitten?”
I licked my lips, still feeling him there, and nodded.
In true asshole, Tristian Hawkins form, he declared war, “The next time I kiss you, you’re going to beg me for it.”
The sad thing was, I had no defenses against him.
He made sure of it.
Chapter 11
—Tristian—
Now
I rolled over to embrace my wife, finding her side of the bed cold and empty. Sitting up, I glanced around the room. Not finding her anywhere in sight.
“Kitten?” I shouted to no avail.
Grabbing my cell phone off the nightstand, I looked at the time. Seven in the morning.
I texted her.
Where are you?
While I waited for her reply, I rubbed my face to wipe away the sleep from my eyes.
My phone dinged.
None of your business.
“So fucking stubborn,” I muttered to myself.
This was not how I envisioned our first morning as newlyweds. Throwing my phone on the bed, I jumped in the shower and got ready for the day. After I was dressed in my suit, I called down to valet to bring me my car.
Thirty minutes later, I was walking into her office.
“Kitten, what the fu—”
She lifted her finger in the air, signaling she was on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Saxon. Everything is on schedule for—”
