Page 64 of Champagne Fizz

There’s going to be a lot of too fast, too hot, too intense.

“If things are becoming more than you can handle,” Simon continues, “that’s something you should tell me.”

“Like a safe word?” I ask.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “I mean, this isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey, but—”

“Couldn’t read it,” I clarify, before he pushes the comparison too far. “Way too hot. I couldn’t watch the movie, either. I mean, let’s look at the reality here. You just said you’re interested in sleeping with me and I’m snicker-my-own-doodle swimming in girl sauce over here.”

“Um …” Simon looks at me like he isn’t sure what to do with that comment.

Yeah, that was probably a little graphic.

“Simon”—my eyes plead with his—“a lot of this isnotgoing to be hot. It’s going to be awkward and embarrassing. My body is—”

“Gorgeous,” Simon interrupts, looking at me hard like I need to understand that. “And amazing.” He twists his legs out from under the table and gets up. “Please stop apologizing for your body.” He moves to my side of the table and kneels down beside me. “You get excited. Good. That’s sexy, Kendall. Trust me, I can’t wait to feel you come again.”

Oh, sweet jambalaya and hot sauce!

“In fact—” Simon leans in and pulls me into a kiss.

It’s a broiling, full-sun, we’re-on-a-beach-and-in-public tonguing. Oh, and sweet yum, fizz, and gumdrops, I don’t want him to stop.

My mouth opens and lets him in. Accepts. Invites. Demands. Oh fuzz, he’s way too good at this.

His hands are somewhere—on my face, in my hair—all I can register is his tongue claiming me like he wants to get to the main event right here. When—

Unruly heat surges between my legs—a hot, aching, swell of lust rising up like a wave about to crash.

I tear myself away from his mouth and press my face into his chest to muffle the groan that climbs up my throat. I smash my lips against the fabric of his shirt, only to find the firm muscle of his body underneath.

It makes me ravenous.

I bite into his shirt, into his pec, and he yelps as prickles of need sparkle through my legs. Mother of pearl and tartar sauce this is completely raw and heathen, and yet all I can do is rake my teeth against him.

Thisis the problem: I can’t control these urges.

He cups my head delicately, his arms around my shoulders, holding me tightly as I shudder. It’s not a full orgasm, but it’s close. That kiss was so unexpected, so brash and immediate, and now Lady Lada is flooded with tea lights.

When I feel like I can breathe again, I pull my head back and unwrap his arms from me.

“Not here,” I say hoarsely. “Youcan’ttouch me in public.”

“I just did,” he says almost cheekily.

“Yeah, and I almost—” I motion to the wet mark on his shirt where my mouth was biting and panting.

“Hot as sin, Kendall. It’s not a problem.” Simon brushes his hand softly against my thigh and I swear my eyes roll back into my head like I’m the exorcist child.

“Abacus!” I bite out, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hands back. “That’s my safe word.”

“Abacus?”

“It’s an ancient counting tool—”

“I know what it is,” Simon says, tilting his head to the side. “Accountant, remember?”

“Abacus, Simon!” I say, releasing his hand and leaning away from him. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be in private. Not here. Not in public. Ever!”

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