Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,62

that excruciating tension, no gentle squeeze of her fingers over his generous biceps flexing beneath her hand. It took everything she had to only allow the moment to be the kiss and nothing more.

Whether he sensed it subconsciously or not, the lack of her physical submission—those subtle sexual cues that told a man if he was winning the battle over a woman’s resolve—only made him deepen the anger-tainted, punishing assault on her willpower. It was like he wanted to tame her with his kiss, own her with it, make her his with it.

I’m only giving you this, Bennett. Just this and nothing more.

Maybe it was her imagination, but the more she attempted to contain the panty-dropping effects of his warm body pressing to hers, the more his sinfully skilled tongue felt like an erotic dancer inside her mouth, working that pole determined to get the last twenty in her hand.

He pressed his mouth harder to hers, his tongue pushing deeper inside her, becoming more demanding, more sexual in its rhythm. Then she felt something infinitely more erotic: his huge, stiff penis pushing into her stomach.

Oh God. He does not play fair. A part of her knew they were standing on a busy sidewalk in the middle of Tokyo where the fine citizens probably did not appreciate two foreigners making out like horny teenagers on a path to accidental parenthood, but she just didn’t care. With each stroke of his tongue and the sensual massaging of his large warm hand over her back, her inner thighs quivered, her core throbbed, and her entire body sizzled. Bennett tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her so close.

Okay. You win, Bennett. Closer. I need to be closer, was all she could think. Where’s the damned pusher now? Because she’d love to be pushed all the way back to a hotel room to finish what they started last night.

Suddenly, Bennett pulled away and released her. His lips were red and wet, and he had a wild look in his eyes. She, on the other hand, probably looked like someone had smacked her upside the head with a phone book. She swore she saw stars circling over his head, and she felt like she might actually pass out. Oh God. He kissed the breath out of me. He’d punished her with his mouth and tongue and showed her who was boss.

The sun caught the tiny flecks of brown in his thick multi-day stubble, and a wicked little victory-smirk danced across his lips. Yes, dammit, he knew he’d conquered her resolve.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” he said with supreme cockiness.

She blinked at him, unable to think straight. “Huh?”

“About coming with me to Paris.”

“But I…”

He took her hand and grabbed her suitcase handle. She stumbled along, and Bennett tapped on the window of the limo. The driver appeared and opened the rear passenger door. Bennett gestured for her to get in, but her feet couldn’t move.

“Don’t make me do it again.” His victory smirk turned into a frown.

“But…but…” Her mind was spinning. There was that horrible bet with his friends—I should be mad right now—and there was the way he touched her last night—okay, I should be dry humping him right now—and then there was the way he bossed her around like he owned her and that cellphone stalking and—

“Taylor, this is one of those moments you shouldn’t overthink. Get in. Please,” he added. How he managed to make the word “please” sound like a command, she’d never know, but she sensed it was the closest this man would ever come to asking nicely.

Nope. Feet not moving. Maybe the powers that be inside her—heart, body, soul—weren’t as aligned as she’d thought.

He sighed exasperatedly. “Opening up doesn’t come easily for me, Taylor. But I promise, if you give me time, you’ll understand my actions. All of them. I’m not a bad guy. I just…do things my way. It’s the only way I know how.”

She opened her mouth and wanted to say a million different things to him, starting with asking why he’d kissed her like that, why he’d played a hand in ruining her reputation, and why he’d freaked the hell out because her cell reception dropped. “Not good enough.”

He laughed and rubbed his whiskered jaw, shaking his head. She noticed then how he had a prominent bulge pressing against his nicely tailored black pants.

Holy crap, it’s huuuge. She could see the distinct outline of his rigid shaft starting from the base directly between his legs, jutting