3 Brides for 3 Bad Boys by 3 Brides for 3 Bad Boys (mf) Page A
Authors: 3 Brides for 3 Bad Boys (mf)
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shiny black hair behind one ear in a nervous gesture. It rippled over her shoulder, and he wanted to touch it. Bad.
"You really want to kiss me?"
"Yes."
"Now?" she repeated, and it was all he could do not to shout the affirmative.
"Yes, now." His voice came out like some kind of animal growl, and he hoped like Hades he hadn't scared her.
She stood up and closed all but two feet of the distance left between them.
He had long arms, and they were itching to reach out so he could grab her. It took more concentration than he felt he could spare to stop from doing it.
"My job doesn't depend on this?"
"No." More growling. In a minute he was going to start howling like a wolf at a full moon.
Moons made him think of backsides, naked backsides. Carter came closer to losing it than he had since he was fifteen and necking with his girlfriend when she let him cop a feel under her blouse for the first time.
"Is that why you asked me about the um … the sexual harassment thing? Did you think I felt pressured sexually by you?"
"Not yet." He hadn't pressured her at all. He'd been extremely careful not to.
"But now you want to kiss me." She seemed to be having a really hard time taking it in.
He closed the distance between them and laid his hands on her shoulders. Her small bones felt fragile under his fingers. "I want to kiss you, and I need you to either say yes or tell me to take a hike in something like two seconds."
Her head tilted back so she could see him. She didn't look scared. She didn't look intimidated. She just looked confused, and at that very moment that wasn't a whole lot better than the other two. He needed to have his lips on hers in the worst way.
"Do you want to use your tongue?" She asked it like she'd ask if he wanted a mint, and it took him a second to grasp the meaning of the words.
When he did, his knees about buckled. "Yes. I'm going to want to use my tongue."
She bit her lip and stared at him for a second. "Oh."
"Is that a problem?"
"I don't like using tongues."
It was his turn to stare. Not like tongues? No. She couldn't possibly have said that. He wanted to use his tongue in a lot more places than her mouth.
"I'll make you like it."
"If I don't, will you stop?"
"Stop kissing you?"
"Stop putting your tongue in my mouth."
His knees did buckle, and he pivoted to fall back against her desk. He leaned on the edge and pulled her between his legs, so her body was one inch from rubbing up against the biggest, baddest erection he'd ever had.
"I'll stop if you don't like it."
"How will you know? I can't talk with—"
He couldn't bear to hear her say it again. "Hit my shoulder. I'll stop if you hit my shoulder."
"Okay."
His hands gripped convulsively on her shoulders. "Did you just say I could kiss you?"
"Only if you stop using your tongue if I tap your shoulder."
"I promise." But he was going to do everything in his power to make her like it.
She clasped her hands in front of her, closed her eyes, lifted her face and pursed her lips as though she'd just taken a bite out of a crab apple.
He didn't laugh. He couldn't. His sex hurt too much, but man, it was funny.
Hadn't she ever been soul-kissed, or didn't she think he could do it? Either way, she was in for a shock.
He lowered his head and stopped to savor her scent. Vanilla and pheromones mixed together in a cocktail that went straight to his head and not the one attached to his neck. He kissed her once, softly, and savored the feel of lips he'd been wanting for four interminable years. Then he broke contact and waited with his mouth poised just above her own.
Two seconds went by. Three. Four. Five. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his. The disappointment there was food for his starving libido.
"Is that all?"
He closed his mouth over hers before she finished speaking, catching her lips apart. He kissed her with all the finesse twenty-nine years of living had given him.
Her lips were soft and so sweet, he would gladly eat them
"You really want to kiss me?"
"Yes."
"Now?" she repeated, and it was all he could do not to shout the affirmative.
"Yes, now." His voice came out like some kind of animal growl, and he hoped like Hades he hadn't scared her.
She stood up and closed all but two feet of the distance left between them.
He had long arms, and they were itching to reach out so he could grab her. It took more concentration than he felt he could spare to stop from doing it.
"My job doesn't depend on this?"
"No." More growling. In a minute he was going to start howling like a wolf at a full moon.
Moons made him think of backsides, naked backsides. Carter came closer to losing it than he had since he was fifteen and necking with his girlfriend when she let him cop a feel under her blouse for the first time.
"Is that why you asked me about the um … the sexual harassment thing? Did you think I felt pressured sexually by you?"
"Not yet." He hadn't pressured her at all. He'd been extremely careful not to.
"But now you want to kiss me." She seemed to be having a really hard time taking it in.
He closed the distance between them and laid his hands on her shoulders. Her small bones felt fragile under his fingers. "I want to kiss you, and I need you to either say yes or tell me to take a hike in something like two seconds."
Her head tilted back so she could see him. She didn't look scared. She didn't look intimidated. She just looked confused, and at that very moment that wasn't a whole lot better than the other two. He needed to have his lips on hers in the worst way.
"Do you want to use your tongue?" She asked it like she'd ask if he wanted a mint, and it took him a second to grasp the meaning of the words.
When he did, his knees about buckled. "Yes. I'm going to want to use my tongue."
She bit her lip and stared at him for a second. "Oh."
"Is that a problem?"
"I don't like using tongues."
It was his turn to stare. Not like tongues? No. She couldn't possibly have said that. He wanted to use his tongue in a lot more places than her mouth.
"I'll make you like it."
"If I don't, will you stop?"
"Stop kissing you?"
"Stop putting your tongue in my mouth."
His knees did buckle, and he pivoted to fall back against her desk. He leaned on the edge and pulled her between his legs, so her body was one inch from rubbing up against the biggest, baddest erection he'd ever had.
"I'll stop if you don't like it."
"How will you know? I can't talk with—"
He couldn't bear to hear her say it again. "Hit my shoulder. I'll stop if you hit my shoulder."
"Okay."
His hands gripped convulsively on her shoulders. "Did you just say I could kiss you?"
"Only if you stop using your tongue if I tap your shoulder."
"I promise." But he was going to do everything in his power to make her like it.
She clasped her hands in front of her, closed her eyes, lifted her face and pursed her lips as though she'd just taken a bite out of a crab apple.
He didn't laugh. He couldn't. His sex hurt too much, but man, it was funny.
Hadn't she ever been soul-kissed, or didn't she think he could do it? Either way, she was in for a shock.
He lowered his head and stopped to savor her scent. Vanilla and pheromones mixed together in a cocktail that went straight to his head and not the one attached to his neck. He kissed her once, softly, and savored the feel of lips he'd been wanting for four interminable years. Then he broke contact and waited with his mouth poised just above her own.
Two seconds went by. Three. Four. Five. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his. The disappointment there was food for his starving libido.
"Is that all?"
He closed his mouth over hers before she finished speaking, catching her lips apart. He kissed her with all the finesse twenty-nine years of living had given him.
Her lips were soft and so sweet, he would gladly eat them
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