“You’re warmer than I expected.” I continue to stroke her shoulders. “Very human-like.”
“You don’t smell like a sewer,” she says primly. “Even though I was sure you would.”
“Is that why you like to rub my cologne all over you?”
Her eyes flare, and for once, she doesn’t have a response. Funny, the little stalker didn’t think I knew what she was doing in my bathroom every time she came over.
“Jasmine. Ocean breezes. Frangipani.” I lean in and inhale her hair. “I guess you don’t smell like a dumpster either.”
“I mean, I guess your face isn’t that bad,” she chokes out. “If you were the last man alive and there weren’t any other options, it would do in a pinch.”
“Want to sit on it?” I tease her ear with my lips, and she melts into me a little more.
“Um…”
Her words trail off as I slip my palm beneath the hem of her tank, pressing the pads of my fingers against the warmth of her back. “Hmm, strange. I was expecting scales.”
She squeezes her thighs together and arches into me without thinking it through. “Are we going to do this all night, or are you going to—”
“You didn’t eat any of the gifts I left you this week.” My fingers curve around her waist.
She shivers. “What, you mean the arsenic cupcakes?”
“Of course, you would think that.” My hand drifts down and pauses on her hip. “Are you going to take off your shorts, or am I?”
“What?” she yelps. “You said a kiss.”
“I did.”
When she looks up at me, it takes all my restraint not to devour her lips right now. But I’m not wasting another kiss there if I only get one. Instead, I lean in and bite at her neck, my words muffled against her skin.
“I didn’t say where I was going to kiss you.”
Her chest heaves, and she jerks away again, trying to collect herself. But her nipples are hard, and despite her protests, it’s obvious she likes the idea of it. I have no doubt she also wishes she could hate the idea of it. I tug my tee shirt up over my head and toss it aside.
“What are you doing?” Her voice comes out all froggy.
“I’m anticipating a torrential downpour.” I nod to her shorts. “Now it’s your turn.”
She hesitates again, and in that second, her eyes drift over my abs before she licks her lips and turns her head.
“You do it,” she orders.
“Take off your shorts?”
She nods as though she wishes a natural disaster would just take us both out right now.
I reclaim the distance between us, guiding her back until she’s flat against the wall. She watches me carefully as I slip my fingers into her waistband and tug down the shorts and her panties at the same time.
“If anyone hears about this, I’ll murder you,” she threatens.
“Funny coming from you.” My palms skate up the inside of her thighs, widening her stance.
When I kneel in front of her, she tilts her head back against the wall and holds perfectly still as I inhale her sex with a groan. Just as I suspected. Wet little liar. Kail makes a sound in her throat, her fingers digging into my hair as I dip my head forward. I kiss her just like I promised, and she whimpers.
“I forgot to mention I wanted to French kiss you,” I tell her.
She arches into me as my tongue lashes against her. And when I do it again, her knees nearly buckle.
“That isn’t horrible,” she rasps.
“I wasn’t asking for your approval.” I dive between her legs again, tasting her like I’ve wanted to since she showed up on my doorstep with that stupid plate of fruit. Fucking pineapples, for fuck’s sake.
She’s a nightmare. This girl could ruin me, and a part of me wonders if she still will. She could still go to the media. She could tell them whatever she wants, and they would print it. But would she?
I watch her as my tongue slips inside her. She’s gripping my hair so hard it stings in the best way. My fingers are branded into her ass as I hold her exactly where I want her. Her eyes are closed, and she’s so pretty it hurts sometimes, but especially like this.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but Kail isn’t complaining as she squirms against my face. She’s biting her lip now, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to rip from her throat. I’m not gonna