Page 45 of Playing Flirty

“You okay?” In one swift move, he hopped from his couch onto mine. His movements were careful and intentional as he leaned closer. “Did you hear any of what I said?”

No, I didn’t. Not while fighting the inexplicable desire to kiss him.

Instead, I told him another truth. “Your pants are so low, I’m surprised they manage to stay up.”

His gaze dropped to my cleavage, and I wondered if he could see my erratic heartbeat.

He rubbed his palms across his thighs. “I’m surprised you couldn’t find a shirt with an even lower neckline.”

“You wish I had.” My breath caught at how easy it was playing with William.

“I really do,” he conceded in a voice barely more than a growl.

The depth of his voice snapped whatever it was twisting in my stomach. A soft laugh escaped me, and I turned away to hide what I imagined were blood-red cheeks.

“What are you so nervous about?” A wolfish grin made an appearance on his face. Taunting. Teasing. Wanting.His body was turned to face mine.

“How do you know I’m nervous?” The nerves I was pretending not to have climbed with each careful word.

“Because I know you.” He inhaled with a struggle. “I know that little laugh when you’re nervous, or how you fidget. You look away when you’re lying, and you bite your cuticles when you’re planning but also when you’re anxious and stressed. But it’s different when you pick at them…”

My heart jerked almost painfully in my chest, shoving every coherent thought from my brain and replacing it with his words, his smooth voice, and his ability to notice things about me that most people didn’t.

Unable to take it anymore, I twisted toward him, tentatively reaching out to touch the arm nearest me. “How do you know all that? Why do you know all that?”

William remained silent while my fingers trailed over his defined bicep that he often flexed for my attention, then found its way to his chest. We froze, and for a second, his heart raced against my palm.

“I like looking at you.” His right hand slid to my waist. And squeezed. A gasp escaped me, and I lifted my gaze to meet his.

“If you know me so well, tell me what I’ll do next,” I managed in a soft, shaking voice.

“I think you’re going to kill me.” He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, his fingers pressing deeper into my side with a desperation that flowed through him and into me.

“I want to.”

His left hand found the other side of my waist and he lifted me onto his lap. “Do it, then.”

There was so much intention and power in his grip. A shaky breath pushed out of me as I widened my legs to accommodate his width and straddled him. An ache of desire burrowed into the depths of my stomach. I tried to look away, but he caught my chin and held my gaze with his obsidian eyes, as if breaking eye contact would break the spell. His thumb traced against the mole on my jaw, while his free hand pulled me closer.

A sound of wanting escaped me. I slid my hands along either side of him, bracing myself against the couch, supporting me so I wouldn’t fall into his gorgeous face. His fingers found the small patch of skin where my waistband and the hem of my shirt met. Our breathing synced, deep and wordless.

“Rose,” he choked out, his eyes almost black, “you’re succeeding.”

Strong fingers twisted into my hair, and he pulled me so close I felt his every heavy, struggling breath.

It was my turn.

His mouth was so deliciously near to mine that I couldn’t resist. Leaning forward, I kissed him. Softly at first, mapping the shape of his lips, which were new and, somehow, everything I’d expected. The same lips that had pouted and smirked at me for years.

I darted the tip of my tongue across his top lip, then the bottom, followed by the corners where they met, enjoying the way he reacted.

“Rose,” he said again, even deeper this time. He slid his hand from my hair to my neck and pulled me against him.

Our mouths crashed together in a hard kiss, desperate and hot. William kissed me as though I were the only person he’d ever kissed with such urgency, such desperation. As if it were something he’d waited for his entire life. His tongue parted my lips, and my breath hitched as it greeted mine.

He tasted like sweet, black coffee, and I wanted nothing more than to keep touching him and tasting him.

William leaned back for air, but kissing him was more important than oxygen.

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