secretary.”
“That is the most sexist comment I’ve ever heard. You’re disgusting!”
Calm goes straight out the window and down about forty stories.
“I didn’t say I thought that way—I said he thinks that way! Fucking Christ Almighty!”
And it’s true. I don’t care what you’re packing in your pants or which way you roll. A pecker, a cooch, or both—it’s all the same to me. As long as you get the job done right, that’s all that matters. But Kate seems determined to think the worst of me.
I push my hands through my hair in an effort to vent some of the frustration that makes me want to shake the shit out of her.
“Look, this is the way it is. Trying to pretend certain biases don’t exist won’t make them go away. We have a better shot at signing Anderson if I do the talking.”
“I said no! I don’t care what you think. Absolutely not.”
“God, you’re so fucking stubborn. You’re like a menopausal pissed-off mule!”
“I’m stubborn! I’m stubborn? Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t King of the Control Freaks!”
She’s right about the control thing. But what can I say? I like things done the right way—my way. I won’t apologize for that. Especially not to Ms. Stick Up Her Ass.
“At least I know when to back off—unlike you. You walk around like an uptight overachiever on crystal meth!”
By this time, we’re both on our feet, less than a foot apart facing each other. Without her heels, I have a major height advantage, but Kate doesn’t seem intimidated.
She pokes me in the chest as she argues, “You don’t even know me. I am not uptight.”
“Oh, please. I’ve never seen someone who needs to get laid as badly as you do. I don’t know what the hell your fiancé is doing with you. But whatever it is? He’s not doing it right.”
Her mouth opens, forming a big ole O at my little dig against her betrothed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand come up, ready to slap me across the face.
This is not the first time a woman has tried to slap me. You’re not surprised, are you?
Like a pro, I catch her wrist before she makes contact with my cheek and hold her arm down at her side. “Gee, Kate, for a woman who claims she doesn’t want to screw me, you’re certainly eager to make this physical.”
Her other hand comes up to try and slap me from the other side, but I block her again and am now securely holding both her hands at her hips. I smirk. “Gotta do better than that, baby, if you want a piece of me.”
“I hate you!” she yells in my face.
“I hate you more!” I shout.
Admittedly, not my wittiest comeback—but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.
“Good!”
It’s the last word she gets out.
Before my mouth descends on hers.
And our lips crash together.
Chapter 7
I’ VE K ISSED H UNDREDS O F G IRLS . No—make that thousands. I only really remember a handful of them. But this kiss? This is one I won’t forget any time soon.
She tastes… Jesus , I’ve never done drugs, but I imagine this is what that first snort of cocaine feels like, that first shot of heroine. Goddamn addictive.
Our lips clash and move over one another, angry and wet.
I can’t stop touching her. My hands are everywhere: her face, her hair, down her back, grasping at her hips. Pulling her closer, desperate to feel more of her—wanting her to feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
Needing air, I rip my mouth from hers and attack her neck. I feast on her, like a starving man. And that’s exactly what I am—ravenous—for her. I inhale as I lick, suck, and nibble my way from her jaw to her ear.
She’s whimpering incoherently, but I get the idea. The sound of her voice, wild and sexy, makes me groan. And her scent. Sweet Christ, she smells like…flowers and sugar. Like one of those decorative confectionary roses on the top of a cake.
Fucking delicious.
And her hands aren’t idle either. She grasps my biceps, and the heat of
“That is the most sexist comment I’ve ever heard. You’re disgusting!”
Calm goes straight out the window and down about forty stories.
“I didn’t say I thought that way—I said he thinks that way! Fucking Christ Almighty!”
And it’s true. I don’t care what you’re packing in your pants or which way you roll. A pecker, a cooch, or both—it’s all the same to me. As long as you get the job done right, that’s all that matters. But Kate seems determined to think the worst of me.
I push my hands through my hair in an effort to vent some of the frustration that makes me want to shake the shit out of her.
“Look, this is the way it is. Trying to pretend certain biases don’t exist won’t make them go away. We have a better shot at signing Anderson if I do the talking.”
“I said no! I don’t care what you think. Absolutely not.”
“God, you’re so fucking stubborn. You’re like a menopausal pissed-off mule!”
“I’m stubborn! I’m stubborn? Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t King of the Control Freaks!”
She’s right about the control thing. But what can I say? I like things done the right way—my way. I won’t apologize for that. Especially not to Ms. Stick Up Her Ass.
“At least I know when to back off—unlike you. You walk around like an uptight overachiever on crystal meth!”
By this time, we’re both on our feet, less than a foot apart facing each other. Without her heels, I have a major height advantage, but Kate doesn’t seem intimidated.
She pokes me in the chest as she argues, “You don’t even know me. I am not uptight.”
“Oh, please. I’ve never seen someone who needs to get laid as badly as you do. I don’t know what the hell your fiancé is doing with you. But whatever it is? He’s not doing it right.”
Her mouth opens, forming a big ole O at my little dig against her betrothed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand come up, ready to slap me across the face.
This is not the first time a woman has tried to slap me. You’re not surprised, are you?
Like a pro, I catch her wrist before she makes contact with my cheek and hold her arm down at her side. “Gee, Kate, for a woman who claims she doesn’t want to screw me, you’re certainly eager to make this physical.”
Her other hand comes up to try and slap me from the other side, but I block her again and am now securely holding both her hands at her hips. I smirk. “Gotta do better than that, baby, if you want a piece of me.”
“I hate you!” she yells in my face.
“I hate you more!” I shout.
Admittedly, not my wittiest comeback—but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.
“Good!”
It’s the last word she gets out.
Before my mouth descends on hers.
And our lips crash together.
Chapter 7
I’ VE K ISSED H UNDREDS O F G IRLS . No—make that thousands. I only really remember a handful of them. But this kiss? This is one I won’t forget any time soon.
She tastes… Jesus , I’ve never done drugs, but I imagine this is what that first snort of cocaine feels like, that first shot of heroine. Goddamn addictive.
Our lips clash and move over one another, angry and wet.
I can’t stop touching her. My hands are everywhere: her face, her hair, down her back, grasping at her hips. Pulling her closer, desperate to feel more of her—wanting her to feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
Needing air, I rip my mouth from hers and attack her neck. I feast on her, like a starving man. And that’s exactly what I am—ravenous—for her. I inhale as I lick, suck, and nibble my way from her jaw to her ear.
She’s whimpering incoherently, but I get the idea. The sound of her voice, wild and sexy, makes me groan. And her scent. Sweet Christ, she smells like…flowers and sugar. Like one of those decorative confectionary roses on the top of a cake.
Fucking delicious.
And her hands aren’t idle either. She grasps my biceps, and the heat of
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