The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

Janie laughed and said something in Vietnamese to her mom and grandma. They both looked at Stella and laughed as they voiced their agreement.

“Michael’s been really happy this month,” Janie said. “Like embarrassingly happy. The general consensus is it’s because of you.”

She caught her breath. “Has he really?”

“Yeah. He’s obnoxious when he’s happy.”

Stella bit her lip to hide her smile. All of the emotion boiling inside her chest made her feel like it would rupture open, spewing rainbows and glitter. “He’s never obnoxious.”

Janie snorted. “I bet he doesn’t make you smell his socks.”

She choked on a laugh.

“What’s going on here?” Michael asked from the doorway.

His hair stood up in complete disarray, and his face was still flushed from beating up on his sister. He wore a wrinkled white button-down over a plain T-shirt and faded jeans. He was gorgeous.

“Telling her about the socks, dickhead,” Janie said with an evil smirk.

M? sent her a sharp narrow-eyed look, and Janie shrank into her chair.

“I mean, Anh Hai,” she mumbled.

“That’s right. Give me my respect.” His smile was superior and lofty and . . . obnoxious. Stella loved it. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Out in the kitchen, his mom went about dishing rice noodles into giant bowls and ladling soup over the top. Janie took the first bowl and brought it to the table where Ngo?i sat, cutting everything into little pieces with a scissors before squeezing in lime.

Michael pulled her to the side. “Hi.” He swept his eyes over her and ran his hands down her back, pressing her close. “I like this dress on you. Are the seams bothering you?”

“No, they’re fine. The problem is in the front.”

“What is it? Want me to fix it?” He unbuttoned her black cardigan and inspected the construction of the tight-fitting Lycra dress with a frown. “I don’t see anything obvious.”

“Can you sew a-a-a . . .” She glanced at his family as they set bowls at the table and dropped her voice. “Can you sew a bra into it?”

A wicked smile spread over his mouth, and he opened her cardigan wide to look at the hard points of her nipples. “I could, but I’m not going to.”

He pulled her into the dining room and leaned her against the wall. When he palmed her breasts and tweaked at her nipples, she gasped as her body softened in a jolting flash.

“This is a very high-fashion look, you know.” He bent down and brushed his lips against her temple, her cheek, and finally her mouth—a whisper-light touch that left Stella wanting. “You know how I feel about fashion.”

She snuck her fingers underneath his shirt to touch the hard ridges of his belly. “It’s indecent.”

He kissed her again, deep and slow this time, and pulled away with hooded eyes. “You’d be cold without the cardigan, anyway. No bra.” He rubbed her nipples in exactly the right way to make her limbs melt. “Look at you getting weak in the knees for me. So hot, Stella.”

He captured her lips and stroked his tongue into her mouth. When he pulled her hips flush against his arousal, heat arrowed through her body and made her toes curl. She shouldn’t want him again. Their morning had been particularly acrobatic today, and she’d barely made it to work on time.

The tension on her scalp loosened, and her hair tumbled free. He worked a hand under her dress and gripped her inner thigh.

“Ugh, get a room.” One of his sisters stomped by.

Michael broke away with laughing eyes and high color. “You’re just mad because you didn’t win.”

“You’re a dick,” Maddie said.

After his sister disappeared into the kitchen, Michael ran his fingers through Stella’s hair. “Are you okay? Too embarrassing getting caught?”

She shook her head. She didn’t care if she was caught as long as it was with him.