Page 3 of Her Possessive Valentine

“I hate to interrupt you two, but Ma, we’ve gotta run.” Vance shrugs, and a massive sigh tears out of him.

“Nonsense.” Veronica flicks her hand to send his words away. “Hana has prepared us a banquet.” She gestures over the table where various tarts, cakes, and other pastries wait to be eaten. “And she made some exotic tea from … where was it, hon?”

“Japan.” I peel my eyes off the enormous slab of man and reach for the teapot. The ornate design doesn’t do much in the way of showing the black tea blend inside, but I feel the need to do something with my hands.

I pour three cups and sit back down.

“I have a meeting in—” He tries to lift his arm to check his watch, but Veronica catches it before he gets to see.

“You have a meeting with your mom and her friend,” she says with finality. Vance nods and pulls out Veronica’s chair.

“In a minute. I forgot something in the back, and I need to fetch it.” She smiles at me, then her son, and disappears into the haze of people coming and going from the tea shop.

Something tells me her sudden need to leave isn’t because of some forgotten item. But who am I to second-guess a dear client?

Vance shakes his head and smiles. “Then there were two.”

And with it comes my guilt-free inspection of his body. Not that I’d be able to stop myself if Veronica were still here, but it’s much easier with it only being us.

His wet jacket clinging to his massive upper body makes it easier. It reveals his huge arms attached to broad shoulders, a barrel chest that narrows inward at the waist, just generally the kind of body that screamsI spend a lot of time in the gym.

But my haphazard glances come to a stop as I travel past his belt, and my eyes lock onto something they probably shouldn’t…

The outline of his manhood, stiff and constrained, against the front of his trousers. He’s lucky it’s tied down by his underwearbecause if it shot straight out, the tent would be enough to take someone’s eye out.

I catch myself staring too long, my heartbeat thumping in my ears, as a mix of guilt and desire floods my system. It’s partly to stop myself from drooling at the sight but mostly out of the necessity to urge him to hide it away before his mother returns.

“You might want to sit down,” I say, feeling my teeth instinctually sink into my lower lip.

“There’s no time to sit down, darlin’. I’ve gotta mosey on down the old dusty trail,” Vance says with the most put-on cowboy accent I’ve ever heard. He shakes his head, and the internal struggle ofWhy the hell would you do that?washes over his face, blending beautifully with his ever-reddening cheeks.

I can’t help but giggle at him.

“When I say might, I mean sit down. Like immediately. Unless you want someone seeing something they shouldn’t.” I gesture downward with my eyes.

With a furrowed brow, Vance looks down. His eyes widen, and he swallows hard enough for me to hear when he realizes what I’m pointing at.

“Oh, shit.” He pulls a chair out and falls into it, looking around at the other tables to see if anyone else noticed. “Guess the wet pants making everything stick to me isn’t helping.”

“Well, you can take solace in knowing your pants aren’t the only thing that’s wet.” Holy shit, did I really just say that? I turn my head away immediately, trying to hide my suddenly burning cheeks and the smirk I haven’t managed to knock off my face since Vance got here.

He clears his throat, and I wish I hadn’t looked away from him. I’d love to see what’s happening on his face—if I took things a step too far or if he’s as entertained as I am.

Then again, no matter how he tried to play it off, his body gave an answer long before my wondering started.

“Now, you can’t go and say something like that when I’m trying to get rid of the problem,” he says. “You will and have made it much, much worse.”

I look at him again, mighty pleased with his low-hanging jaw and hazel eyes settling south of my chin. It’s not surprising that my boobs caused hisreaction, but what I don’t fully understand is how they did it. My blouse is the furthest thing from sexy, and all the buttons are done up to hide my cleavage.

Vance’s mind must have carried him to some far-off place that had me stripped of it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

And I want to hear all about it.

“Yes, I know. Apologies, Mr. Valentine. Sometimes, my mouth runs faster than my brain.” I wink at him, feeling the smirk slip for a second into a devilish smile.

“Nothing to apologize about.” He lifts his cup of tea and eases back in his chair. “It’s that kind of go-getter attitude I love in a woman.” He sips.

“Love, you say?”

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