The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

“I can carry you.”

She aimed a sleepy smile at him, clearly thinking he was joking.

“I’m serious.” The idea of carrying her to bed was highly appealing at the moment. He liked holding her, and as messed up as it was, he wanted to check boxes. He hadn’t gone this long without fucking in three years, and seeing Stella in that dress was giving him full-body blue balls.

“Don’t be silly.” She pawed her door open and stood up with movements that were clumsy even for her. When he locked the car and met her at the door to her house, however, her eyes were steady. “I don’t have energy for lessons tonight.”

“It doesn’t have to be lessons.” He trailed his fingertips down her arm, and her skin dotted with goose bumps. Her eyelids went heavy, her eyes sensual. Beautiful Stella. “I can just make you feel good.” He stroked over her palm, and her fingers unfurled, inviting him to touch. “You already paid for tonight, Stella.”

Her hand fisted shut, and she turned to face the door. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Please come in.”

* * *

• • •

After returning her shoes to their place in her coat closet, Stella padded past her beloved Steinway to her dining room, enjoying the feel of the cool hardwood on her aching feet. Michael followed behind her quietly, and she suspected he was noting how barren the space was.

No centerpiece adorned her dining room table. No artfully arranged place settings, either. There was nothing but . . . she didn’t know what kind of wood the table was made of, but it was soft. She ran her fingers over the satiny surface as she walked to the far end of the table where she usually sat. The chairs surrounding the dining table were the only ones in her entire house.

“Did you just move in?” he asked.

She pulled a chair out for him and rubbed her elbow awkwardly. “Not really.”

Instead of sitting down, he strode into the adjoining kitchen with his hands in his pockets, inspecting the gas range, the stainless-steel refrigerating units, and whatever else she had in the echoing space. Cold, gray, and cavernous, the kitchen was her least favorite room in her house. At least, it usually was.

It became a different place with Michael in it. The ambience turned intimate and inviting, and the low-hanging lights twinkled more like stars than energy-efficient LEDs. It no longer felt lonely.

“What does ‘not really’ mean? A month ago? Two?” He aimed a teasing grin at her as he asked, “A year?”

“Five years.”

His face went slack, and he stared at her house with new eyes. “So you like it empty like this?”

She shrugged. “I’m at the office most of the time, so it doesn’t bother me. Here, I have a bed, a nice TV, and really fast Internet.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “The essentials.”

“Is that too strange?” Like being a late talker or getting overstimulated at clubs?

“No, I think I like it,” he said with a smile. “You could use some art, though, and a couch or two. Maybe a coffee table. You don’t need much more than that.”

A knot formed in her throat. At that precise moment in time, when she had him standing in her kitchen, in her house, she felt like she didn’t need anything else in the whole world. And their time together was ending soon.

She wasn’t ready for that to happen.

“Would you mind sitting so we can talk?” she asked.

With a serious nod, he rounded the oversized center island and sat in the chair she’d pulled out. His proximity drew her like a magnet, and she seated herself before she could do something distracting like touch him. She needed to stay focused. Maybe if she spoke very eloquently, he’d agree to her new plan.

She rested jittery hands on the tabletop, and within seconds, her fingers started tapping.

A warm hand slid over hers and squeezed. “You never need to be nervous with me. You know that, right?”

When he didn’t remove his hand, she analyzed the way he made her feel. This was a casual, uninvited touch, the kind that normally made her want to crawl into herself. But all she registered right now was Michael’s warmth and the roughness of his skin, his weight. She didn’t understand it, but her body accepted him. Only him.

The realization made her mind sharpen with determination, and she gathered her courage and plowed ahead. “I’m issuing you a new proposal.”

He tilted his head in a measured way. “You mean you want to extend our lessons beyond next Friday?”