Page 23 of So Wrong It's Right

He looks dead serious. But then, when doesn’t he look serious? His hand on my shoulder squeezes. Just a little.

“Why would you play along with my little ‘charade?’ Also, who even pronounces it that way?”

“Look, I know you didn’t do anything malicious on purpose, but you are screwing with my life. All I’m asking is that you defer to me in the office, the way it’s supposed to be.”

I think maybe helikelikes me. Interesting. Only one way to find out. I’m going to be the Stellaiest Stella I can be and force it out of him. I shrug, palms up. “I can’t make any promises. You know me, impulsive and rash.”

Oh...there it is. The muscle tic. He grimaces and takes a measured breath. “Then I’ll tell everyone you lied about me. That we were never dating.”

I cross my arms and send him my blandest look. He ought to like that. I also know that plumps up my boobies, and if I’m not mistaken, he likes that too. “How are you going to explain that kiss? Half the town saw it.”

“I’m offering you a chance to save face here. I just want a little bit of control of my life again. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll play my part if you play yours.”

This is an interesting turn of events to be sure. “You know when I met you, I thought you were mild-mannered and unassuming.”

“You thought you could steamroll over me.”

“No. I have no desire to be in control all the time.”

“Then it won’t bother you to let me be in controlsomeof the time, will it?”

It’s go time.Let’s see how in control you are or aren’t, dear doctor.“Do you really think you have what it takes to control someone like me, doc?” I run my hand up his arm, squeezing the hard muscles. “I’m impulsive and rash and destined to make you crazy, remember?”

Something in his eyes changes. Something dark and wild. “You don’t think I can rein you in, Stella? Are you calling my bluff?” I didn’t realize I was moving backward until he flattens me to the door. “I choose nonconfrontational methods whenever possible because I like things calm and steady. But that doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”

To prove his point, he pushes into me, the bulge beneath his zipper a sure sign that he isn’t indifferent to me. And damn it. According to the state of my panties, it turns out I’m not indifferent to him either. This man confuses me. I need to say or do something.

Were I a thinking, practical kind of girl, I bet I would soothe his ego with something like an acceptance of his terms or a nonconfrontationalno, thank you. But we’ve established that I’m impulsive and rash. “I’m calling your bluff. You wouldn’t last three days as my boyfriend.”

Christopher is changing in front of my eyes. I take a deep breath, allowing my chest to rise beneath his. There’s a bubble of tension around us. He is fighting to retain some kind of control, and I want him to lose it. The steely reserve in his eyes doesn’t falter. He pins me to the door, holding my wrists firmly in powerful hands. Wow. My pulse is skating figure eights, but I can’t show him I’m intimidated.

Because then he would stop.

I don’t want him to stop.

His eyes are hot and eager. Ruthless.

He lowers his head and breathes on that patch of skin below my ear but doesn’t kiss me. I fight the urge to squirm, to bring him into closer contact.

“Christopher...” I whisper.

He latches on to my neck, sucking, and I would melt into the floor if he wasn’t pinning me to this door with his hard body.

He kisses my jaw, my chin, and finally claims my mouth.

The kiss downstairs devastated me. This one...it consumes me. He takes and takes and takes, his tongue thrusting, mimicking raw sex. He isn’t thinking about my pleasure or even his own. He isn’t thinking at all. I’ve driven him to this hungry madness, and I haven’t even touched him yet.

And Goddess, do I ache to touch him. It’s all sparks and stars, and I’m sure the only way to put out the fire includes nakedness and my bed.

He rears back, breathing heavy like he’s just run up a couple flights of stairs. Okay, so we’re both wheezing a little. His glasses are foggy and that, for some damned reason, makes my thighs clench around the ache between my legs.

“Do we have a deal?” he asks.

I blink the world back into focus. “You seriously want to do this?”

“No. I don’t want to. But it’s in both our best interests. You save face, and I get some peace.”

If he thinks being my pretend boyfriend is going to net him any peace, he seriously underestimates living in a small town. “The reason my lie hasn’t spiraled out of control is because everyone thought you were shy and guarded. Kissing me downstairs—with tongue, I might add—will disabuse the townsfolk of that notion. It’s going to get pretty crazy now. Especially with the wedding next weekend.”

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