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She hooked her hand around his nape and yanked him down as she surged onto tiptoe. “Jace!” she cried out before her lips crushed against his.
His insides gripped with need. God, he hadn’t desired a woman this much for a long, long time.
She tasted so sweet, with a hint of something fresh and herbal. His head flooded with her scent and flavor and he couldn’t hold back.
Pressing his mouth down on hers, he gave her time to pull away, to refuse him. But she only twined her fingers in the hair on his nape and threw herself into the kiss.
Slow down, Abel.
You can’t do this. She’s your fucking WARD.
You’ll scare her and she won’t trust you when she needs to.
Goddamn, she tastes good.
He angled his head, deepening the caress, moving in slow, tender passes until they were both gasping and clutching at each other. He swiped his tongue across her lips, and she opened to him on a soft cry that tangled his guts up even more.
Plunging his tongue inside, he bundled her against him. Her hips rocked, and he issued a primal sound.
Jace was good at a lot of things, but his specialty was knowing how to drive a woman crazy for him. Locking one hand on her hip, he used the other to explore the dip of her waist, the sleek line of her torso…and cupped her full breast.
She cried out, and he sucked in the sound, feeding her his tongue and dragging more and more moans from her as he pinched her hard nipple. What would it take to get her clothes off quick? It’d be seconds before he had her bare and stretched out on her big bed with the metal bars perfect for a woman to grip while he ate her pussy.
Meow.
Meow.
MEOW!
The sound broke through his lust-fogged brain and he realized it was Hemingway wrapping himself around Jace’s ankles.
Something sharp sank into his leg. Five somethings. Five claws, in fact.
He tried to shake the cat off but didn’t slow the kiss.
“What…was that?” Bronte asked between flicking her tongue over his.
“Your cat clawing my leg.”
She jerked out of his arms and stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over Hemingway. “Oh god! I’m so sorry. I-I practically threw myself at you just now.”
He tilted his head to better see the pink in her cheeks she was trying to hide from him. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, unable to shake off the shape and feel of her nipple hardening at his touch.
“I didn’t exactly fight it.” His voice was like sandpaper.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “It was wrong of me. You’re my employee. And you’re not even my type.”
His brow shot up. If she was trying to insult him, it worked. Whatwasher type? And what exactly was wrong withhistype?
She raked her gaze over his body, and his cock pummeled his fly with the need to lay her down on the closest soft surface and show her just how damn much he was her type.
“I mean, you’re totally wrong for me,” she sputtered.
Okay, that stung. He wasn’t a guy who chased a woman who wasn’t into him, but Bronte couldn’t kiss him like that without feeling the same burning attraction he’d been fighting since the start.
He squared his shoulders and straightened to his full height, giving her a good look at all he had to offer. “What about me don’t you like?”
“Uh…you’re cocky, for one.”
