After the Kiss (Sex, Love & Stiletto 1)

She did, and his hand slid to her jaw as he tilted his head and took the kiss deeper. His tongue moved along hers softly and she let out a tiny whimper.

Great—now she was the moaner.

His teeth found her bottom lip gently, perfectly, and this time she let out a gasp. She might be able to identify the different types of kisses, but Mitchell had mastered them. He’d taken everything she’d ever experienced, picked out the best parts, and delivered them perfectly.

And it was effective. Too effective. His time was up. Julie had a steadfast rule that the first kiss should never last more than two minutes. Enough to get a feel for the other person, but just enough mystery to leave him wanting more.

Pull back. Pull back now.

Instead she dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. She had no finesse, no awareness, no control. Julie tried to pull Mitchell on top of her, but he resisted. She pulled back slightly and frowned. How was it that he still had some restraint while she was practically panting?

He gazed steadily into her eyes, looking completely unfazed. Correction: looking completely smug.

No. Hell, no. If she was losing her mind, she was taking him with her.

Forgetting all about the types of kisses, both good and bad, Julie launched herself at Mitchell, pinning him to the couch while she climbed on top of him like a horny teenager. His eyes flashed in surprise, and she very slowly, very intentionally brushed the front of her ancient boxers against the front of his jeans. His expression went wary. This time it was Julie’s turn for the smug smile.

Mitchell glanced down at where his own hands had landed on her hips as though surprised to find them there. Julie moved slowly, sliding his glasses off and setting them carefully on her coffee table. Her breath hitched as she got the first close-up look of his eyes. No wonder he kept them covered. Eyes like that could kill a girl.

Julie suddenly became uncomfortably aware that she was straddling a virtual stranger without so much as a swipe of mascara or a bra, and her hair hadn’t seen a straightener since yesterday morning. No wonder he hadn’t exactly lost himself in the kiss. She looked like a bag lady.

Giving him an embarrassed smile, a first for her, she started to climb off his lap, but his fingers tightened around her hips in silent demand. Stay.

He straightened so that they were eye to eye, and slowly, deliberately put his hands on either side of her face before jerking her head forward and fusing their mouths.

Julie’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t pegged him as classic alpha, but the truth was in the kiss.

He was going for Hot and Hard.

And he did it well. Really well. If the previous kiss had been strangely familiar, this one was pure passion. All Julie could do was hang on to the front of his shirt as he took her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers in silky strokes as her hips began to move against his in a matching rhythm.

When they needed to breathe, they pulled back just slightly, reluctantly, catching their breath in between teasing flicks of slow, brief melding of mouths. What was this? It was like the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss in between, all rolled into one hot, bizarre moment.

His hands began a slow trek upward and Julie arched into him, wanting his hands over her. On her.

Something prissy and nagging tickled the back of her mind. Too fast. This is date three material.

But she couldn’t quite make herself obey her own rules of dating. In fact, if he would just take off these damned jeans, she could wiggle and—

His hands were bracketing her rib cage now and she caught her breath, waiting, wanting. And then he moved again, but not in the direction she wanted.

No!

Before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her up and off him and she was slouched in the corner of her couch, feeling very much like a cat in heat. Alone.

They stared at each other for several moments, and Julie read the same confused expression in his eyes.

What the hell just happened?

Mitchell let out a long breath and leaned forward to grab the glasses she’d set on the coffee table. He slid them back on before looking at her, and she felt a small surge of regret. His mask was firmly in place.

Wall Street was back.

He slowly extended a hand toward her, rubbing a thumb over her bottom lip.

“I should go,” he said quietly.

She bit her lip and refrained from asking why. Why stop something that good? If this was how relationships were supposed to progress, she wanted no part of it. She had a major case of blue ovaries.