A huffing sound fills my ear.
I turn to find Max, my dog, panting with his mouth open. I scowl and he flattens his ears.
All of my businesses are dog-friendly. Before you draw conclusions about me being the caring sort or some such shit—it attracts footfall.
Max scrutinizes the girl, then glances at me. Huh? He hates women, but not her, apparently.
I straighten and my nose grazes hers.
My arms are on either side of her head. Her chest heaves. The fabric of her dress stretches across her gorgeous breasts. My fingers tingle; my palms ache to cup those tits, squeeze those hard nipples outlined against the—hold on, what is she wearing? A tunic shirt in a sparkly pink... and are those shoulder pads she has on?
I glance up, and a squeak escapes her lips.
Pink hair surrounds her face. Pink? Who dyes their hair that color past the age of eighteen?
I stare at her face. How old is she? Un-furrowed forehead, dark eyelashes that flutter against pale cheeks. Tiny nose, and that mouth—luscious, tempting. A whiff of her scent, cherries and caramel, assails my senses. My mouth waters. What the hell?
She opens her eyes and our eyelashes brush. Her gaze widens. Green, like the leaves of the evergreens, flickers of gold sparkling in their depths. "What?" She glowers. "You're demonstrating the plank position?"
"Actually," I lower my weight onto her, the ridge of my hardness thrusting into the softness between her legs, "I was thinking of something else, altogether."
She gulps and her pupils dilate. Ah, so she feels it, too?
I drop my head toward her, closer, closer.
Color floods the creamy expanse of her neck. Her eyelids flutter down. She tilts her chin up.
I push up and off of her.
"That… Sweetheart, is an emphatic ‘no thank you’ to whatever you are offering."
Her eyelids spring open and pink stains her cheeks. Adorable. Such a range of emotions across those gorgeous features in a few seconds? What else is hidden under that exquisite exterior of hers?
She scrambles up, eyes blazing.
Ah! The little bird is trying to spread her wings? My dick twitches. My groin hardens, Why does her anger turn me on so, huh?
She steps forward, thrusts a finger in my chest.
My heart begins to thud.
She peers up from under those hooded eyelashes. "Wake up and taste the wasabi, asshole."
"What does that even mean?"
She makes a sound deep in her throat. My dick twitches. My pulse speeds up.
She pivots, grabs a half-full beer mug sitting on the bar counter.
I growl, "Oh, no, you don’t."
She turns, swings it at me. The smell of hops envelops the space.
I stare down at the beer-splattered shirt, the lapels of my camel colored jacket deepening to a dull brown. Anger squeezes my guts.
I fist my fingers at my side, broaden my stance.
She snickers.
I tip my chin up. "You're going to regret that."
The smile fades from her face. "Umm." She places the now empty mug on the bar.
I take a step forward and she skitters back. "It’s only clothes." She gulps, "They'll wash."
I glare at her and she swallows, wiggles her fingers in the air, "I should have known that you wouldn’t have a sense of humor."
I thrust out my jaw, "That’s a ten-thousand-pound suit you destroyed."
She blanches, then straightens her shoulders, "Must have been some hot date you were trying to impress, huh?"
"Actually," I flick some of the offending liquid from my lapels, "it’s you I was after."
"Me?" She frowns.
"We need to speak."
She glances toward the bartender who's on the other side of the bar. "I don’t know you." She chews on her lower lip, biting off some of the hot pink. How would she look, with that pouty mouth fastened on my cock?
The blood rushes to my groin so quickly that my head spins. My pulse rate ratchets up. Focus, focus on the task you came here for.
"This will take only a few seconds." I take a step forward.
She moves aside.
I frown, "You want to hear this, I promise."
"Go to hell." She pivots and darts forward.
I let her go, a step, another, because... I can? Besides it's fun to create the illusion of freedom first; makes the hunt so much more entertaining, huh?
I swoop forward, loop an arm around her waist, and yank her toward me.
She yelps. "Release me."
Good thing the bar is not yet full. It's too early for the usual officegoers to stop by. And the staff...? Well they are well aware of who cuts their paychecks.
I spin her around and against the bar, then release her. "You will listen to me."
She swallows; she glances left to right.
Not letting you go yet, little Bird. I move into her space, crowd her.
She tips her chin up. "Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested."
I allow my lips to curl, "You don't fool me."
A flush steals up her throat, sears her cheeks. So tiny, so innocent. Such a good little liar. I narrow my gaze, "Every action has its consequences."
"Are you daft?" She blinks.
"This pretense of yours?" I thrust my face into hers, "It’s not working."
She blinks, then color suffuses her cheeks, "You’re certifiably mad—"
"Getting tired of your insults."
"It's true, everything I said." She scrapes back the hair from her face.
Her fingernails are painted... You guessed it, pink.
"And here’s something else. You are a selfish, egotistical jackass."
I smirk. "You're beginning to repeat your insults and I haven't even kissed you yet."
"Don't you dare." She gulps.
I tilt my head, "Is that a challenge?"
"It's a..." she scans the crowded space, then turns to me. Her lips firm, "...a warning. You're delusional, you jackass." She inhales a deep breath, "Your ego is bigger than the size of a black hole." She snickers, "Bet it's to compensate for your lack of balls."
A-n-d, that’s it. I’ve had enough of her mouth that threatens to never stop spewing words. How many insults can one tiny woman hurl my way? Answer: too many to count.
"You—"
I lower my chin, touch my lips to hers.
Heat, sweetness, the honey of her essence explodes on my palate. My dick twitches. I tilt my head, deepen the kiss, reaching for that something more… more… of whatever scent she’s wearing on her skin, infused with that breath of hers that crowds my senses, rushes down my spine. My groin hardens; my cock lengthens. I thrust my tongue between those infuriating lips.
She makes a sound deep in her throat and my heart begins to pound.
So innocent, yet so crafty. Beautiful and feisty. The kind of complication I don’t need in my life.
I prefer the straight and narrow. Gray and black, that’s how I choose to define my world. She, with her flashes of color—pink hair and lips that threaten to drive me to the edge of distraction—is exactly what I hate.
Give me a female who has her priorities set in life. To pleasure me, get me off, then walk away before her emotions engage. Yeah. That’s what I prefer.