The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

He touched his lips to hers, and pleasure jolted to her heart, down her arms, down her legs. Tilting his head, he kissed her deeper. Once. Twice. Again. Until she sighed and leaned into him, tangled her fingers in his cool hair. He claimed her mouth with his tongue in a way that was new and familiar at once. She kissed him back with everything in her, trying to tell him all the things she wasn’t articulate enough to say.

“God, Stella,” he rasped against her lips, his dark eyes dazed and heavy-lidded. “You learned that fast.”

Before she could respond, he took her mouth again. She forgot about the time, forgot about work, even forgot about her anxiety. His large body rubbed against hers, and she arched into him, reveling in his closeness.

Her phone buzzed with her mother’s ring tone.

Michael tore away at once, flushed and breathing heavily. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he stared deep into her eyes, looking like he was two seconds away from kissing her again.

“I should get that.” She slipped inside, sat on the edge of the bed, and pressed the talk button on her phone with a shaky thumb. “Hello?”

“Stella dear, your father’s—oh, hold on a second.” Her father’s deep voice rumbled on the other end, and Stella held the phone away from her ear as her parents discussed golf and lunch plans.

Michael approached her with a fluid-limbed gait. “I need to go, but we’re on for next Friday.”

“Next Friday,” she confirmed with a nod.

Instead of leaving immediately as she expected, he leaned down and brushed a fleeting kiss to her mouth. “Good-bye, Stella.”

She watched his departure in a dazed state. They were meeting again. In a week.

“Who was that?” Even with the phone several inches from her ear, Stella could hear her mother’s surprise.

“That was . . . Michael.” A breathless kind of nervousness filled her. She might like it that her mother had discovered her male visitor.

A brief silence ensued, followed by, “Stella dear, did you spend the night with a man?”

“It’s not what you think. We didn’t do anything. Other than kissing.” The best kissing of Stella’s life.

“Well, why ever not?”

Stella’s mouth worked without issuing words.

“You’re a mature adult, and you make good choices. Now, tell me all about this Michael.”

{ CHAP+ER }

6

Destroy. Defeat. Deceive.

Michael scanned his partner’s black-clad form for weaknesses he could exploit. Right now, during the heat of the match, was the only time he gave free rein to the base, selfish instincts he battled daily. And it felt so fucking good.

No matter how hard he fought against it, at his core, he was just like his dad. The badness had been passed down in his blood.

He shoved and went for a head shot. When his partner’s sword rose to block the strike, Michael pushed for that extra burst of speed and arched his weapon down. The tip of his sword cracked against his partner’s side.

Clean point. Match over.

Everyone bowed and set their swords on the blue matted floor before kneeling. Michael hated this part of class, not because it meant practice was ending, but because it was time to remove his armor and return to his normal self.

This was the beauty of apparel. A suit transformed you into a certain kind of person. A T-shirt, a different kind of person. Black nightmare armor that hid your face behind an ominous metal cage, yet a different kind of person. The gear weighed thirty pounds, but he always felt lighter when he wore it.

As he shed layers, cold air touched his skin, and reality crept back into his head. Heavy thoughts stacked one upon the other like bricks, returning him to his regular burdened state. Responsibilities and obligations. Bills. Family. His day job. His night job.

After class officially ended, he put his gear in its place on the shelf along the back wall. Space was tight as fuck with five guys in the cramped changing room, and he didn’t feel like waiting around, so he slipped his uniform off in the hallway. Nothing half the women in California hadn’t already seen.

Two high school girls giggled and hurried into the women’s room, and he rolled his eyes as he yanked a pair of jeans over his boxer briefs. Michael Larsen: now serving half the women in California plus two.