Page 43 of Cocky Jerk

“He wants to meet you.”

No one’s ever taken me home to meet the family. Not a mother, or a father. No siblings and no cousins.

“Why?” I stammer.

“Probably because I couldn’t stop talking about you on Saturday,” he replies, smiling at me. “The party is next week, and Soraya appointed me the guy responsible for getting them there. It’s a surprise, so my options are limited, and your boss is no help.”

“You want to take me to a family party?”

“It’s not really a family party, we just invited their friends. Tig and Delia aren’t likely to close the shop for no good reason when they’re swimming in debt, but if I dangled you in front of them, well, you’re pretty irresistible. So, what do you say?”

“I don’t know. That would mean another week of talking to you and I’m not really in the market for a long-term relationship,” I tease, a big fat grin spreading across my lips. Lifting my arms, I wind them around his neck. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Then it’s settled,” he rasps, bringing his hands back to my hips. Our noses brush as he pulls in a deep breath. “I planned on waiting until after dinner.”

“For what?”

“This.”

He lowers his head, and his lips brush with mine. It’s slow at first, almost teasing but then his tongue rolls over my bottom lip and I welcome him into my mouth. My arms tighten around his neck and his fingers dig into my hips as I fall against his hard body.

A moan sounds from the back of his throat as his teeth playfully nip at my lower lip. Spinning us around, he moves me away from the table and pushes me against the wall. His hand comes up to my neck, curling around the back of it, holding me in place as his lips continue to attack mine. Heat pools between my legs as his tongue rolls over mine and I inch even closer. His erection presses against my belly and it’s my turn to moan.

Fuck.

I really needed him to be an awful kisser.

The timer on the oven goes off and Marco slowly tears his mouth away from mine, peppering my lips with chaste kisses.

“Dinner’s ready,” he rasps, meeting my hooded gaze.

Screw the chicken, give me more of that.

Chapter Fourteen

Marco

Earlier, I decided I wasgoing to take Tig’s advice and just go with the flow. I wasn’t going to worry about who Antonia’s father was or why she was keeping it from me. And I wasn’t going to mention the fucking creep hanging around outside the office or that sleazeball Hound either. I was simply going to enjoy her, and by that, I mean, I was going to give us both a night we’d never forget.

All that other stuff would come with time.

With trust.

But when she agreed to come to the party with me, something inside me snapped. I can’t explain it, but I needed to taste her. It’s been twenty minutes since my mouth touched hers and I’m still fucking hard as a rock. I could give a fuck less about the chicken on my plate. All I’ve got is an appetite for her.

“You’ve barely touched your food.”

Reaching for my beer, I twist the top off and glance at my dish before meeting Antonia’s gaze.

Christ, she’s pretty.

“That’s because I’m currently wondering if your pussy tastes as sweet as your mouth and it’s taking every ounce of self-control not to flip this table and pull your leather pants down.”

Watching as her cheeks flame, I bring the bottle to my lips and take a gulp. My imagination kicks into gear and I picture her sprawled across my bed, her cheeks flush, her hair mussed and sweat dripping from her brow.

“Oh,” she murmurs, setting her fork down. It’s not a graceful move, and it hits the dish with a clank. Her tongue slips over her bottom lip slowly, enticing me. Driving me fucking mad. Then she pulls it between her teeth, and I’m done. Just fucking done.

Lowering my hand under the table, I press the heel of my hand to the bulge between my legs and reach for my fork. Stabbing the chicken with the prongs of the fork, I close my eyes and try to picture something unattractive. Something sure to kill the party in my pants.

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