Page 100 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

I knew what I wanted, and I knew exactly why it could never be mine.

Carina hated me. I’d never given her a reason to like me, and that was the bed I’d be forced to lie in. Even touching her like this, with her chest against mine, with her smooth skin under my palms, was more than I’d ever have the right to.

She was too good for me. Always had been, always would be.

Nothing would ever change that.

I was about to open my mouth, to tell her to forget it, that I wouldn’t fight with her over this anymore. But before I could, Carina leaned forward.

And she pressed her lips to mine.

Five

CARINA

I think I read this all wrong.

The way he was staring at me. The way he grabbed me and pulled me to him. The way he wouldn’t let me go.

Was I wrong to think the man saw something in me besides a woman he could push around?

He was so close, his body so hot against mine. His tight grip on my arms felt possessive, but not in a creepy, stalker-ish kind of way. More like an I can barely control my desire to kiss you so you better do it for me way.

And yet now, with my lips pressed against his, he was just… standing there?

Good one, Carina. Looks like it’s back to the Minx for you.

Except, when I tried to pull away, King pushed forward. His stiff lips softened against mine, his mouth opening the slightest bit, as if he were as unsure of how to do this as I was.

How did you kiss your boss, a man who hated you more than he would ever like you?

Quite honestly, kissing wasn’t something I did. The last lover I’d spent time making out with was a female who enjoyed it almost as much as she liked being pegged. In the end, the strap-on always won, and I found I couldn’t compete with the stamina of her toys.

For all my sexual experience, I was sorely lacking in this. But when King traced my lips with the tip of his tongue, whatever inhibitions I held started melting away. I opened my mouth, and he traced me again, this time dipping between my lips to touch my tongue. He held me like that, hands on my arms, as he licked into my mouth like I was a decadent treat, and I wondered if he really did like me.

Once more, I tried to pull away. And once more, King fought against my backward movement. He pulled me closer, his mouth opening and closing against mine as he looped an arm around my waist and spread his hand wide across my hip. His other hand curled around the back of my neck, his strong fingers tilting my head just so as he kissed me until my knees went weak and my traitorous heart began to melt.

Raising my hands to his face, I fingered the short hairs on his jaw before sliding my palms down the sides of his neck to his broad shoulders. A moan rose from my throat as he deepened the kiss. His arm around my back tightened, pulling at me until I was flush against him, and my breath hitched.

He was hard. I could feel the entire solid length of him pressed against my gut. I wanted to feel more of him, for him to feel me. I needed to be touched by this man, but he was focused on my mouth and nothing more.

“King,” I whispered against his lips, my fingers poised at the buttons of his shirt.

His response was immediate, yet achingly slow. The hand at my neck shifted, angling my head as his kiss became brutal. The hand at my hip rose, loosening the tight fit of our lower bodies while pressing firmly at my back, keeping me right where he wanted me.

I was right where I wanted to be, too.

Although.

“King.” I didn’t wait for a response this time. I worked my fingers through the buttons of his shirt, spreading the fabric wide so I could feel the smooth, hard muscles underneath. But it wasn’t enough. My hands ached to touch more, to feel him and hold him. To be touched by him.

When I undid the button on his pants, King snapped out whatever spell had turned him to stone. His hands gripped at me as if he were kneading putty, sliding along my sides, down to my ass, up my back, until every inch of me felt molded and shaped. His kisses fell from my mouth, along my jaw, down my throat until his face was buried in my chest, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of me while I struggled to stay standing on my shaky legs.

“Fucking hell, Carina,” he growled against my chest as my fingers hooked into his waistband and tugged his pants down his long legs. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Make you mad?” I asked, wry laughter in my voice.

“Make me fucking ravenous,” he countered, and the power of his voice knocked me backward. He held tight, gently lowering me to the edge of my bed. “Make me fucking crazy with lust. You can’t begin to understand how difficult you are.”

---