Page 47 of Resisting the Grump

Confusion twisted her expression. “What?”

“The first time I came into the café,” I explained. “You were bending over behind the counter, and I caught a glimpse.”

She feigned a scowl. “Cheeky.”

“Like I said, I’ve wanted to sleep with you since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Then what?” she asked, reaching towards the coffee table for her wine glass.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after you sleep with me, is the jig up?”

“What jig?”

“The chase.”

“Ahhh.” I relaxed back on the couch and dropped my eyes towards her hips. “Why the vine?”

“Because the artist couldn’t draw a pretty fern, which is what I really wanted.”

“Why a fern?”

“For protection and everlasting youth obviously.”

I laughed. “I take it back. I didn’t get a good enough look at it.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Show it to me.”

She stared at me for a moment and swallowed when she realized I was serious. Then she stood up.

My jaw clenched with anticipation as she spun around slowly, her fingertips stretching towards the bottom of her short dress. And just when I thought she might change her mind, she peeled her dress up like a second skin, her beautiful ass blooming before me.

“Exquisite,” I said, admiring the way the delicate vine seemed to climb between her sexy back dimples.

She looked over her shoulder. “And the peach,” she said, spinning around to face me as she hoisted her dress a little higher up her hourglass body.

I was stunned by her beauty, by the unapologetic way she owned it and shared it with me. “You only get more beautiful,” I said, scooting to the edge of the couch and reaching for her. Her waist was warm under my palms, and I let her feel the weight of my hands on her hips as I dragged a thumb across her fuzzy peach, eliciting a little giggle that revealed she was probably more sensitive than she let on. “I had a dream like this once.”

She bit back a smile. “Are you saying I’m your dream girl?”

“I know you are,” I said, smoothing my hands over her hips as my mouth watered.

“You never answered the question,” she said, letting me pull her into my lap, my dick swelling between us as she straddled me.

“What question?”

“What happens when the chase is over?”

I scoffed. “That’s the kind of question you ask a boy,” I said, pulling her dress off over her head.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not chasing you just to chase you.” I lifted my gaze to hers and slid the straps of her black bra off her shoulders like I was slipping a delicate ribbon off a fancy package. “Nor am I chasing you just to catch you.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you chasing me?” she asked, exhaling softly as I freed her breasts and took them in my hands.

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