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But in a very good way.
“I know you aren’t sleeping.” Whiskey is beside me now, has been for a good thirty minutes. I rolled to my side when he laid down, not wanting to look at him and see him naked. It scares me that he may win whatever this game is we’re playing at.
And I’m just trying to play when he is probably two steps ahead of me, fuck maybe even ten.
“You don’t.” I hear him laugh softly next to me.
“You aren’t snoring.” Turning over, I face him, which is a big mistake because he’s already looking at me. “I want to kiss you right now.”
“That’s good,” is all I reply.
“You don’t want me to kiss you?” he asks, locking eyes with me.
I’m afraid to blink—will he see my lie if I do?
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Pity. I could have made it worth your while.”
“How?” I ask him.
“How about a month off your contract if you can kiss me like you mean it.”
A month?
A whole month.
What is he up to?
Free earlier than I thought would be better than the original contract stated.
“Just a kiss?”
“Just a kiss,” he tells me back.
Before I can move to him, his hand touches my lips.
“Make me believe it, Bunny.”
I roll my eyes at his words and lock my lips to his.
At first, he doesn’t move, and I reach for his wet hair, running my hands through it and moving until he opens his mouth to give me access. When I slide my tongue in, I taste the mint of his toothpaste. His lips smash against mine, and soon we’re kissing with sexual tension floating between us so heavy I’m afraid this is just a taste of what’s to come. Eleven months will be a long time if we keep this up.
Pulling back, I remove my hand from his hair and look at him. His eyes are closed, and when he opens them, I wait. Wait for what? To see if I can kiss well? Or, to see if he’s not a liar?
“That wasn’t your best kiss. You didn’t make me believe it, Bunny.”
My eyes narrow at his words. “I kissed you. Now, you take a month off.”
The asshole shakes his head. “No can do! You can have one more chance, though. But this time”—he leans in close, his lips redder from our kiss—“make me believe it.”
Make him believe it? Maybe I should punch him in the junk and make him believe that.
Okay, taking a deep breath, I think of how to kiss this man so good that he will take a month off this stupid contract. The sooner I am out of here, the better. As I sit up, I tell myself I’m doing this for one reason only, that this man doesn’t make me weak at the knees and causes butterflies to flutter around in my stomach.
No, he makes me sick with the twisted games he likes to play.
Maybe he will be better at this than me.
