Page 48 of A Bossy Roommate
I can’t tell if this is a bad idea or not.
I also can’t tell if Carter is messing with me. I mean, we had been teasing each other during our dinner, so he very well could be joking.
But he doesn’t look like he’s joking.
He stares at me expectantly, as if it’s a challenge. As if he expects me to back down.
Obviously, he doesn’t know me very well.
Without thinking twice, I raise my head and take his face in my hands. He’s way taller than me, and since I’m not wearing my heels, I have to stand on my tiptoes.
Suddenly, my mouth meets his.
The blow of feeling his soft lips on mine almost makes my heart stop.
I almost collapse. Worse. I almost black out.
Butterflies take off in my stomach.
A volcano erupts inside me.
Instant heat shoots through my body, and my knees buckle involuntarily, making me sway away. Carter catches me with his strong, muscular arm around my waist, dragging me closer against him while making sure our lips stayed connected. And not just our lips. His other hand slides into my hair, gripping my neck and head firmly, and keeping my whole body in place, flush against his.
Every thought I’ve ever had vanishes into thin air.
That magic of his touch and his mouth against mine controls my being. His lips are everything and more: soft, teasing, demanding. He tastes and nips at my lips until I open my mouth, feeling his tongue softly against mine before I have even a second to realize what’s happening.
Desire clouds my senses, and my body aches for his touch. When his tongue teases mine again, more demanding this time, I can’t help but let out a soft moan. Carter’s tongue pushes deeper, past mine. His hand falls to my ass, gripping, pulling me closer, and squeezing. As if on their own accord, my hands move up his chest and broad shoulders, fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles, until my arms circle his strong neck.
We kiss like two people who have been deprived of kissing for far too long. We make out like our lives depend on it.
The sensation of his fingers in my hair, both his hands holding me close, and his tongue inside my mouth bewilders all my senses, sends them into a whirlwind of blissful confusion.
My heart does the twirly-whirley.
My knees do the wobbly jellybean jive.
My pussy does the giggly carnival carousel spin.
My soul does the swoony moonlit serenade.
Sweet Jesus, this man knows how tokiss. This man isn’t just an excellent kisser, he’s a heart-melting-jaw-dropping-panty-wrecking kisser. He needs to come with a warning label.
Everything is suddenly way too hot and way too overwhelming, and the urge to tear my and his clothes off forces me to break the kiss, gasping for air.
Part of me feels cheated that I didn’t get his mouth on mine when we hooked up the first night, or when we got “fake” married, or when we happened to interlock in the laundry room. And all other moments in between.
Carter leans back against the doorframe, our gazes locked, both his hands suddenly cupping my ass. He just looks at me, saying nothing, his gorgeous eyes searching mine.
“See,” I say, breathless. “Best kisser in the world.”
Carter’s lips quirk, and he slides his hands up and down and around my ass, the strength of his palms leaving tingling feelings along my body. “I might agree with you on that fact,”he grumbles, his voice low and gravelly. “But best in the world?” One hand reaches up, pushes a loose strand of hair from my face and his thumb grazes my cheek. “Sorry, not convinced yet.”
Cheeky bastard.
I’m acutely aware of the proximity of our bodies and that I’m frozen in place, physically incapable of moving away. I’m also acutely aware that his hand has moved back down to my ass. He pulls me closer, pushing my breasts against his torso and his length against my belly, deliriously hard. Sweet Jesus.
Yes, I was the one to swear off men.