Page 19 of So Wrong It's Right

Chapter Eight

Christopher

Jesus, her mouth.

Her mouth has been driving me insane for weeks.

I don’t know what drove me to jump into the circus tent of Stella’s life and kiss her, but now that I am here, now that the momentary shock that stiffened her muscles is gone and she is melting like butter in my arms, I no longer care what got me here. I just want to stay.

I lower one hand from her velvet-soft cheek to her hip and pull her closer, all those soft curves pushing into me is driving me crazier still. She ropes her arms around my neck and angles her head, so I take advantage and part her lips with my tongue, catching her sigh of pleasure in my mouth.

She tastes like candy. Which makes perfect sense, right? Because candy is deceptively sweet, enticing, and so, so bad for you. And I know, in the dim recesses of my mind, that no matter how good she tastes or how amazing she feels, Stella Stone is very bad for me.

A wave of heat caresses me from head to toe. The star has somehow fallen into my greedy hands, exploding the world into bursts of light and magic. Singeing the world I knew just moments ago.

I’ve never kissed anyone in public before. I prefer to display affection in a respectful way in private. And that was even before...well, before my ex. But right now, I don’t care who is watching or what they think. I only care about the way this woman tastes. The way she feels under my hands, against my body.

A thought tickles the back of my mind. That she called me her boyfriend. That the Neanderthal she was talking to was telling her she wasn’t desirable. I push the thoughts away. I’ll get to the bottom of why I am kissing her later; right now, I want to prove to Stella and the jerk just how desirable she is. Stella pulls back and looks at me, her eyes glazed with an emotion I can’t name. Like she doesn’t know where she is or how she got here. I let myself have one second to feel supremely proud that I have kissed Stella...stupid.

But logic starts filtering into my own lust addled mind. “We need to talk,” I whisper into her ear before I kiss her temple like a good boyfriend might.

I can’t feel my knees.

She nods. Her eyes are so blue I think the sea might get jealous. I didn’t know that the shade of pink on her cheeks would be so gratifying, that I could paint them that color with my kiss.

She still looks dazed. If I’d known all this time the way to shut her up was kiss her...

I better not go there.

The asshole is gone and everyone in the bar is staring. I’m coming down from the high of her candy lips and realize that I’ve made a mess messier. My instinct was to defend her honor, but instead I subjected her to more speculation.

I need to remember that she is the ringleader, and the big top she’s constructed and trapped me in is her own doing. I’m just a clapping monkey.

She brings her fingers to her lips and blinks like she just woke up. “We can talk at my place. I need to say goodbye to my friends.”

I’m coming back to myself, from wherever I went, and realize it would be better to go with her to the table where her friends are. To not let her cause any more trouble. Not let her run amok.

Her friends at the table seem to be in shock. She tells them we are heading out, as if it was something expected and normal. The woman from the grocery store makes eye contact with Stella. I don’t understand the language, but I can tell that they are communicating without saying a word. Whatever Stella tells her puts the woman at ease, and she sits back and raises a mock toast to me with her wine glass, her bangles jingling as they slide up her arm.

“Do you want me to drive?” I ask, pulling my manners out from muscle memory more than anything else.

“I live upstairs, silly,” she tells me with a fake smile. Pretending I would have known that and just forgot.

She lives above a tavern. Isn’t that just like her? Is she the life of the party every night? Does she have many men coming on to her so cruelly, like the jerk from the bar?

And before I let my caveman, the one I didn’t know I had, come back out, I remember that she lied about me. Creating a relationship we don’t have. Making me part of a gossip mill for who knows how long? Now the strange visits from family and friends make more sense. The way her sister wants me to be part of the wedding table. The cookies and the offers of golf games...

Just when had Stella started this crazy story and why?

I follow her up the back stairs, anger replacing some of the blood that had gone south a few minutes before. I don’t let myself look at her ass.

She unlocks the door and gestures me into her apartment. Leaning against the closed door, she takes a deep breath and hits her head on the wood, exposing the arch of her long neck and a thin gold chain I want to rip off her with my teeth just because I want nothing on her skin but me. The décolletage above her dress glitters, promising a path paved in stardust to her breasts.

No. Do not look directly at the breasts. That’s how good men go blind.

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