The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

She unfolded the top bill and read it as fast as she was capable. Just an electric bill. Less than a hundred dollars a month. She was about to fold it back up when she noticed the name on the bill. Michael Larsen.

A strange pain pierced her chest. He hadn’t trusted her with his real name.

She grimaced. If she didn’t know who he was, she couldn’t stalk him after things ended. She put the bill back the way she’d found it, but even with how bitter she felt, she couldn’t help scanning the other one on the file cabinet. A medical bill from the Palo Alto Medical Foundation. It wasn’t addressed to him, however. The name on it was Mrs. Anh Larsen.

Stella snatched it up and read the itemized list of procedures: CAT scan, MRI, X-rays, blood draws, blood tests, et cetera. The total came to a staggering $12,556.89.

Wasn’t insurance supposed to cover these things?

She pressed an unsteady hand to her forehead. Had his mom gotten sick without health insurance? Was Michael paying her medical bills? How was he paying . . .

Her breathing went erratic, and her stomach twisted and sank. Michael didn’t have a drug addiction or a gambling problem.

He just really loved his mom.

The room went blurry as her eyes watered. She straightened the bills back to the way she’d found them and swallowed around the knot in her throat. He’d slept with all those people, with her, because his mom was sick.

She pressed a fist to her lips as she curled up on his couch. The door swung open.

Michael took one look at her and rushed to her side.

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He scooted onto the couch and wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her temple, wiping the tears from her cheeks, running his hands down her back. “What is it?”

What did she do now? How did she solve this? She didn’t know how to cure cancer. Maybe she should have gone to medical school after all.

She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He tried to back away. “You need to tell me—”

She kissed him harder. He softened slightly and kissed her back for one drugging second before he pulled away again.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said firmly. “Why are you crying? Did I go too fast again? Did I do something you’re not ready for?”

She didn’t know how to communicate what she was feeling. Her chest was bursting with emotion. It was too much, too intense . . . Terrifying.

“I’m obsessed with you, Michael,” she confessed. “I don’t want just a night or a week or a month with you. I want you all the time. I like you better than calculus, and math is the only thing that unites the universe. When you’re done with me, I’m going to be that crazy client who stalks you just so I can see you from a distance. I’m going to call you until you’re forced to change your number. I’ll buy you an extravagant car, anything and everything I can think of, so I can feel connected to you. I lied when I promised I wouldn’t get obsessed with you. That’s my nature. I have—”

He sealed his lips over hers, and his urgency seared through her. He grasped her with rough hands, but she didn’t care. She clawed at his pants until she could free his length. Then she tore away and worked her way down his body to take him into her mouth.

She sucked and laved him with clumsy strokes of her tongue. She had no idea what she was doing, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rocked his hips into her mouth with sinuous movements. She stroked his tattoo, caressed his strong thighs. By the tenseness of his body and the increasing speed of his motions, his hoarse sounds, she knew he was close. It fueled her own arousal, made her press her legs together as moisture coated her thighs.

“I want inside you,” he said, trying to tug her away from his erection.

But Stella didn’t want to stop. She needed to feel him filling he

r mouth, needed to taste his completion.

He groaned as she resisted his persistent attempts at freedom. When she finally relented, letting him slip from her mouth, he kissed her hungrily and rolled her into the couch. After sitting up, he dug into his pocket. His chest worked on deep gusting breaths as he tore the foil open and rolled the condom on.

He lowered himself over her and kissed her mouth, her jaw, her neck. Hard flesh prodded at her sex. As he slid into her, their eyes accidentally met and locked. Panic spiked. Too raw, too exposed. She tried to look away until she realized the vulnerability she saw was his. Dark eyes gazed deep, seeing her seeing him.

Their bodies picked up an elemental tempo. Hips surged and retreated, claimed, gave. He searched between their bodies until he could touch her right where she needed it. She burned and wound tighter and tighter. Moans tumbled from her lips as she arched into him. Through it all, their gazes held. He saw it all, heard it all. She would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for his smile, the tender way he brushed the hair from her face before his free hand tangled with hers. The most incredible feeling of being loved washed over Stella.

Release seized her. Hard wrenching spasms stole her ability to move, speak, and think. The hand interlaced with hers tightened. His motions sped up. With one last deep thrust, he joined her in falling apart.