Page 9 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

He sets his glass down and turns the full force of his gaze on me. “Boys use lines. Men don’t need them because there’s no question as to what we can deliver.”

“And what is that?”

He smirks. “The experience.”

Suppressing a shiver, I let the pad of my index finger circle the delicate lip of my glass. “Tell me.”

His eyes darken as he wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin before placing it on the table beside his plate.

“A woman looking for the experience doesn’t want a guy like that.” He nods subtly toward the guy standing at the bar, a new girl replacing the one previously standing there.

“I don’t know,” I hedge. “You don’t think he could provide an experience?”

“I saidtheexperience notanexperience.”

“What’s the difference?” I ask as I drag my high-heeled foot slowly up and down his calf.

“If that guy takes her home,”—he nods again toward the bar—“she’ll retell the story as ‘I met this guy and we had a really fun night together.’ Whether he delivers on the promises he’s making her is not as important as the spontaneous nature of their hookup.”

“So he’s forgettable is what you’re saying.”

“It is indeed.”

“So then,” I purr, “what’sthe experience?”

His eyes flick to my mouth and then up to my eyes. That move alone has my heart beating a little faster, but he doesn’t stop there. Cullen has my attention and he knows it as his gaze travels over my bare skin.

His perusal is languorous in nature, but I canfeelmy skin pebbling as if it were a physical caress. When he finally reaches my eyes again, the intensity almost steals my breath. He takes a sip of his wine before carefully placing the glass on the table.

“You see, Red,”—he leans back in his chair and I sit up straighter as if on command— “you’re already anticipating my hands on your body. I’ve told you exactly what I want from you without saying a word.”

My heart hammers in my chest anddamn, this man.

“Awfully confident,” I say but it’s breathier and has less sass than I would have liked.

“It’s part of why you want me, Gwen.” This time I do shiver when he uses my first name. “You know I’ll pull every ounce of pleasure from you before seeking my own. You’ll feel worshipped, possessed, cared for, and powerful. A woman’s body is exquisite—a privilege—and should be savored. You trust me to take you higher than you ever imagined possible, and your ultimate pleasure only increases my own.”

“Modesty isn’t your strong suit, I see.”

“There’s no room for modesty in the board room or the bedroom,”—his grin is devilish—“and I’ve been known to dominate both.”

I press my lips together to prevent them from falling open. I’m desperate for him and he knows it. I’ve taunted and teased this powerful man, and a thrill shoots through me before settling between my thighs.

I squeeze them together in search of any kind of friction, but he shakes his head the slightest bit as his eyes drop to my lap before looking me in the eyes.

“The only one allowing you pleasure tonight is me.”

His word choice is intentional, like the entirety of this conversation, and while he’s wound me up tighter than a top, I can’t help but push him a little further.

Resting my forearms on the table, I squeeze my breasts together as I lean toward him and make a show of dragging my tongue over my bottom lip. “In that case,” I say quietly, “let’s grab the check.”

5

CULLEN

MORE THAN 20 YEARS AGO

“Idon’t understand why you’re doing this,” I say as calmly as I possibly can. Carmen looks at me briefly before taking more clothes from her dresser and placing them in the open suitcase on the bed.

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