Page 47 of A Bossy Roommate
“You tell me,” he says, “where you think our first kiss should be.”
This is new. Up until this point, Carter had made it clear he didn’t want any of my input. What’s changed? I almost ask but don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. I mull it over for aminute before I sit up excitedly. “Okay, it needs to be romantic. So, how about after our dinner, we decided to go for a long walk and kept talking. It was dark, a little cold out. I was wearing a super-cute blue dress—but no coat. You gave me your jacket, and then you leaned in, andmuah!” I make an exaggerated kissing sound.
“How romantic.”
There’s a slight tease in his tone I ignore. “Isn’t it? Of course, not that I would know anything about what it’s like to kiss you.”
Carter raises his eyebrow at me. “Was that a hint of regret I heard?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was only stating the fact that we haven’t kissed, even though we had full-on sex together.”
He snorts at my phrasing. “Full-on. As opposed to what?”
My brain is too enlivened to come up with the answer. “Um…not full-on. You know. Subtle. Reserved.”
“I’ve never heard of subtle or reserved sex.” He lowers his voice to a sexy growl. “You mean teasing washing machine run-ins?”
Quickly, I shake my head, hoping to get rid of any blushing. “No. No. That wasn’t subtle sex. That was a chance meeting beyond anyone’s control.” I ignore the almost unbearable clench between my thighs caused by the memory of me sitting uncontrollably in my white robe on that running washing machine, legs spread. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s your loss, you know. I’m an excellent kisser.”
He smirks, clearly amused. “Is that so?”
“Yup. Best kisser in the world.”
“That’s a bold statement.”
“One that you can’t disprove since we haven’t kissed.”
“Fine. I believe you.”
I look up at him. What’s happened to Mr. Control Freak, and where has this agreeable man suddenly come from? “You do?” I ask him.
He loosens his tie a bit, then pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his strong, inked arms. Each muscle is defined like chiseled marble, veins subtly snaking beneath his sun-kissed skin. “You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“Good.” I shrug. I get up, ready to head to my guest suite. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“I guess not,” he grumbles, observing me walk past him. “But to me, this whole interaction feels like a desperate attempt to get me to kiss you.”
“It’s not.”
“Stop lying. I know you want to kiss me. You can’t stop thinking about it. You wonder how it would feel. You’re curious to learn if I’m a good kisser. I’ve seen you staring at my lips.”
“I have not,” I tell him. Just when I reach the door, I decide that lying doesn’t suit me. “And even if I have, it was by accident.”
“Hush, Eden.” He’s by my side in a second. “Get over here now.” He pulls me back, and suddenly, I find myself face to face with him.
My brain shorts out for a second, and I stare at Carter, trying to process what I just heard. Did he just tell me to kiss him?
“Come again?” I ask.
“You heard me,” Carter says, casually leaning against the doorframe, larger than life.
His closeness has me frazzled. The scent of his cologne overwhelms my senses and leaves me feeling lightheaded. It’s a perfect blend of fresh orange, leather, and musk, screaming sophistication, confidence, control, and power.
“You said you’re the best kisser in the world.” He dips his head, but then he stills. “Prove it.”