Page 81 of The Charm of You

Why do I find this playful side of her so damn… charming?

“What are you doing, Princess?”

She lifts a shoulder. “I feel it’s my duty to inform the citizens of New York what they’re missing out on. I’m a philanthropist like that.”

“Is that so?” I inch toward her.

She launched the bait, and I bit. Time for the homecoming queen to reel me in with those manicured fingers and pouty pink lips.

“I think I might actually prefer this kind of work over commercial real estate. Who needs pompous asses calling them at all hours of the day and night with impossible demands? Not me—I’d rather talk wine.” She finally cracks into a laugh as I wrap an arm around her waist.

I tug her against me, and her breath rushes through her parted lips with a soft whistle.

In a hoarse voice, I finally give in, because this woman is a genius at getting what she wants.

“You win,” I say, my voice gruffer and scratchier than it would be had I just woken up. “The wine was expensive, okay?”

She gulps as she stares at my lips, then sets her glass down. “Why did you lie?”

My nose brushes along the tip of hers. “I didn’t want to admit that I’m really fucking trying here.”

She slides her petite hands up the outsides of my arms, ruffling my shirt in the process. “You lowered my expectations on purpose.” It might be a statement, but it reaches my ears as a question.

“There’s nothing for me to offer that should get your hopes up. I’m not your…” I bite out a curse as she arches into me until her hard nipples poke me in the chest. Growling, I manage, “I’m not your small-town guy in flannel you leave the city for. I’m just the guy you have your fun with until reality comes knocking.”

“No fairy tales. Just fun. I remember.” She threads her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. The rest of her practically writhes against me.

I’m all too aware of everything she’s doing as if it’s happening in slow, excruciating motion.

I press my forehead against hers, my chest heaving and my dick screaming. We have the entire house to ourselves, for Christ’s sake, and what am I doing? I’m sitting here promising her fun instead of delivering on that promise and indulging in said fun.

“I’m still sorry for lying about the wine, and for acting like an asshole this morning,” I mutter.

She bites her lip, and my knees practically buckle.

“Bo was locked and loaded to give me shit, and I couldn’t have that.”

“What would he give you shit about?” she whispers sensually, as though she’s telling me all the dirty things she wants me to do to her.

“About you. And how much I…” I trail my nose along her jawline and breathe her in. “Let’s just say, he’d give me shit over how much fun I’m having with you.”

She hums, and the sweet, seductive sound wraps around my nuts.

“I’ve never apologized so much to one person for such bad behavior,” I say into the crook of her neck as I slide my hands inside her sweater, where nothing but smooth, warm skin practically melts under my touch.

This earns me a soft laugh. “Is that because you never apologize, in general, or because you’ve never been so bad, Asstin?”

I slip my fingertips under the strap of her bra and toy with her. “A little of both.”

As she hums another light tune, I revel in her floral perfume, and my body aches.

“I don’t know if I even thanked you for the coffee,” I whisper into her ear, and the wisps of her loose hair tickle my lips.

“I can think of a few ways you can thank me now.”

I am officially hard as a fucking rock.

This is the most unbearable foreplay I’ve ever experienced, but I couldn’t fight this overwhelming need to get these things off my chest.

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