Page 15 of The Perfect Wrong
Mystery Chris swipes his tongue against mine with fire, with passion, with desire.
He drinks me in with empathy.
And in one brutal, beautifully unexpected kiss, this stranger rips the veil of my entire world in two.
Holy hell.
My panties feel like they’re so drenched they’re barely there, but somehow I grind against him, clinging to his thick neck for dear life.
The throaty way he rasps when he tears away from my lips renders me freaking blind for the next ten seconds.
“Say the word,” he whispers.
“The word?” I whisper weakly.
“Say you want this, princess, and I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. I will end your dry spell. I will make itrainso damn hard, you can drown your idiot friend in an ocean she’ll never be good enough to taste.”
Oh my God.
Even his eyes are blistering, not just his touch, crackling like teal-green flames.
“Of course, if it’s too much—” he starts.
“No.” I shake my head, running my tongue along my lips. “No, Chris. Please. Give me rain.”
His eyes ignite a shade brighter and he grins.
“See? I knew you’d be fun, Delia. Storm’s coming, but not until I’ve softened you up,” he breathes against my lips.“I’ll take you away, woman. Every goddamned place I see you begging to visit in every glance. You just have to trust me. Let me steer. After tonight, I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
Goddamn.
I think those words might echo in my head forever, and I wonder why he’s so magnetic. So undeniably bad for me that he’s actually good.
An electric shudder ripples up my spine.
Everything about this man screamed power before.
But once he guides me into dancing again, leading me effortlessly across the sands, around the fire, weaving our shadows together like rich black velvet, I start to get an inkling of just how incredible he is.
Just howrighthe might be to win my silly bet with Marnie and break my personal, unsexy curse.
There’s something visceral every time I breathe him in, that intoxicatinglyChrissmell of old pine and testosterone and sandalwood gliding off him.
No question, this is a man—not another college boy—and he brings an edge so sharp I want him to cut me to pieces.
Chris handles me with strength and elegance as we dance deep into the night.
I offer up my trust.
He gives total control.
Everything he promised and it’s barely begun.
Soon, we’re awash in music and heated touches, soft lights and filthy anticipation.
I go spinning out on the next song, skittering across the beach before he snaps me back to his hot skin, his teasing kisses, his raw temptation.