Page 34 of Kiss Me

“What the hell do I know? I’m an asshole. Remember?”

Her eyes widen.

“Or so someone told me,” I say, managing to pull a smile from her, which was my goal.

“You’re still an asshole,” she replies.

“A man can’t change in the span of a day,” I counter.

I capture her chin again, keeping her attention on me. “But your father, your assistant, and even the girls who look up to you aren’t here.”

I give the room a wide sweep with my arm for reference.

“It’s just the two of us right here and now. And you don’t have to keep pretending with me.”

Her eyes drop to my lips, and a stirring that I’ve been fighting all night—especially since that kiss—begins to grow.

One moment, I’m staring at her lips, knowing I would truly live up to my asshole nickname by pulling her in for a kiss the way I’m yearning to after she just had an emotional breakdown in my arms.

Yet, I am who and what I am.

This is my final thought before I do exactly that. I claim Tania’s lips the way I’ve been daydreaming about since I came face to face with her on that ski lift.

Fuck it, if I’m honest, since long before. Ever since the first moment she rejected me all of those months ago.

I’m a man with more options than I know to do with. Between my part-time home in the U.S. and in Korea, I could have a different woman every night of the week, if I wanted.

Still, I’ve craved this one for longer than I’m willing to admit out loud.

And now that I have her in my home, in my bed, in my fucking arms, I start to wonder if I ever want to let her go.

Those are the insane, and, yes, deranged, as she said earlier, thoughts that continue to stream through my mind as I lay Tania down against my bed while never breaking the kiss.

She locks her arms around my neck, obviously as affected by the kiss as I am. Her kisses taste sweet. More decadent than the lingering taste of gingerbread and hot chocolate that remains from earlier.

I move my hand underneath her sweater, touching the smooth, taut skin of her abdomen. A small moan escapes from her lips, encouraging me. She likes the touch of my hand against her skin.

Good, because I fucking love it.

I enjoy it so much, in fact, that I lift her sweater over her head, making sure to not tug too hard over her braids. She’s left in a bra, black camisole, and a pair of jeans. My hands move to the button of her jeans, pausing only momentarily as I gauge her reaction to my undressing her.

“Are you stopping?”

My lips curl into a half grin. “Someone’s anxious.”

“And someone’s taking too damn long,” she pants as she pulls the camisole over her head.

Damn, I love a woman who knows what she wants. No. Who she wants. Especially when that ‘who’ is me.

I strip her of her jeans and the boy short panties she has on underneath in record time. My mouth hungers for hers again. Before I’m able to get a good look at her nearly completely naked form, I lean down for another kiss.

She lifts her head to meet my lips. Our tongues sweep against one another, feeling each other out.

My cocks press hard against the zipper of my jeans.

But I don’t have time to undo my pants because Tania’s hands are already working.

“Shit,” I hiss when she frees me from my jeans and wraps her hand around my cock.

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