Some Like It Charming - By Megan Bryce Page 0,43
turning her panties into one big, wet puddle. Tired of being the only person trying to keep their relationship not a relationship.
But she said, “I live to fight.”
Ethan ran his tongue up her ear. “Don’t I know it. I’ve been imagining you fighting beneath me for weeks.”
Weeks? It felt like years since she’d moved in with him. She said, “Who says I’d be beneath you?”
He grabbed the back of her thighs, lifting her and pinning her against the door. “I remember. You like to be on top.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, felt his hands cup her butt, felt her control slipping. She tilted her head back, stared holes into the ceiling, and tried to talk some sense into herself. He was Ethan Howell O’Connor. He was a celebrity playboy. He dated models and debutantes. He was too handsome, too charming.
He was a charming rat bastard. The kind of man she hated most in the world.
He was a charming rat bastard who was slowly grazing his stubble across her exposed neck, slowly kneading her butt with his magic fingers. Oh. . . so. . . slowly pushing himself against her, rhythmically banging her against the front door.
He wasn’t ever serious, always playing some game.
He hefted her higher, fitting himself even more snugly between her open thighs.
She thought he seemed pretty serious about this.
She might have bit his earlobe when he whispered her name. She might have whimpered when his fingers dipped down the back of her jeans.
He exhaled, letting her slide slowly down the door, still trapped against him, still feeling every last inch of him.
He took a step backwards, grabbing her hands and pulling her away from the door. He said, “Your bed or mine?”
His eyes bore into hers, his hands held hers, and his erection probed her stomach.
She mentally counted down the days. Four more weeks of this? Four more weeks of a near constant barrage of Ethan Howell O’Connor trying to get into her pants?
She wasn’t going to last.
Maybe if they got this out of the way, he would lose interest. Move on to the next game.
Plus, she really, really wanted to.
She said, “The hell with it. Mine.”
He smiled slowly and kissed her for one long moment. Then he bent, hoisted her fireman-style over his shoulder, and briskly walked toward her bedroom. “Excellent choice.”
He put her back on her feet in front of her bed and went to his knees, slowly unzipping her jeans and tugging them down.
She ran her hands through his hair. “Don’t I get any kind of foreplay here?”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing this last week? I’m foreplayed out.”
He looked at her exposed underwear, blinked, and sat back on his heels.
“What are you wearing?”
Mackenzie glanced down, then groaned. “Spanx. I forgot.”
“Under jeans?” He shook his head. “This craze has gone far enough.”
She couldn’t help the flush that spread across her face. “Um. . . It’s to keep you out. I didn’t trust myself.”
He smirked. “With good reason.”
“I could always change my mind.”
He helped her step out of her jeans, then hopped up. “No. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him walk out the door, then stripped the Spanx off as fast as she could. She really had forgotten she’d been wearing them. It was not an undergarment that came off sexily. She pulled up a pair of panties just as he came back in, carrying scissors.
She took a small step back. “Er. . . What are those for?”
He picked the Spanx off the floor and started cutting it into long strips.
She yelled, “Hey!”
“I was going to cut it off your body. Would have been fun.”
“For you, maybe.”
He looked down at her panties. “We can still try it.”
“No.”
He dropped the destroyed Spanx on the carpet, along with the scissors, and turned back to her. “Sorry for the interruption. I had a foe to vanquish.”
“Glad you got that out of your system. But it disturbs me that you somehow got a pair of scissors in here.”
He grinned and reached down to grab the scissors, throwing them out the door. They hit the hallway wall and she jumped. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tumbled them to the bed.
He said, “Where were we?”
“I can’t remember. The scissors distracted me.”
He kissed the side of her mouth. “Let me remind you.”
He ran his hands underneath her shirt and said, “This shirt makes me want to rip it off you as well.”
“I think it’s a personal problem.”
He grabbed her shirt and ripped the two