The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

She prepared to get up, and he told himself to let her go. This space was not for clients, and he didn’t need more memories of her in his bed.

Let her go.

His arms refused to listen. They pulled her close so their bodies lined up in that perfect, custom-made way.

“In my mind, I don’t group you with them, Stella.”

“You don’t?”

She looked so hopeful, Michael couldn’t stop himself from saying, “No. You’re not just another client to me.”

“In a good way, right?” she asked with a wobbly smile.

“In the best way.” He stroked her loose hair, and she shut her eyes as she leaned into his caress, trusting him in a way that humbled him.

When he slipped her glasses off and set them on the nightstand, she opened her eyes and swallowed, drawing his attention to the wildly beating pulse point beneath her jaw. Her cheeks bloomed with color. She wanted him. He’d never loved being wanted this much.

“So pretty, Stella.”

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, and she sighed and kissed it before she surprised him by sucking it into her mouth. She stroked her tongue over him before she bit him, sending a sudden fire burst of sensation directly to his cock.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

She released his finger. “I just wanted to do it. But I plan to research erotic finger biting tomorrow.”

“You could ask me, you know.” He lifted her small hand to his mouth and bit the base of her palm.

Her fingers twitched, and her breath came out in a long, ragged exhalation. “I want to know all the things you love most.” She captured his hand and brought it to her mouth. White teeth nipped at his skin, and the hairs on his body stood up.

“I love kissing you,” he admitted.

She trailed her fingertips lightly over his lips. “Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” She was the only one who ever did. Maybe that was why he was so crazy about her.

“I have permission to kiss you whenever I want?” She watched his mouth like what he said was too good to be true.

“Yeah.”

She brought their lips together and kissed him like he was oxygen and she was short on air. He ran his hands down her back to her hips, cupped her sweet ass, pulled her into his hardness. She struggled to get closer, threaded her fingers through his hair as she

poured herself into the kiss.

So soft, every part of her. But covered by clothes. Michael loved clothes, but they locked Stella away. He’d never felt the urge to tear at buttons like he did now. Breaking the kiss, he captured a hand and loosened the cuff around her elegant wrist.

“Clothes off,” he growled.

After he’d unbuttoned her cuffs, she wordlessly went to work on his, and he realized this was her first time undressing him. He’d been undressed by hundreds of different people. In that moment, he couldn’t remember a single one of their faces.

There was only Stella.

They worked together, their arms crisscrossing and intertwining as they unbuttoned each other’s shirts and his vest, tugged the tails free. She stroked pale hands over his chest and grazed the disks of his nipples, making his skin burn.

He trailed his fingers from her collarbone, down the valley between her bra-covered breasts, over her flat belly, to the waistband of her skirt. After he undid the hook fastening at the side, he eased the zipper over the sweet curve of her hip.

“Skirt off, Stella. If I can’t touch you, I’ll go crazy.” He needed his hands between her legs, needed to taste her.

She sat up on her knees and lowered her skirt. Sitting back down, she pulled the skirt all the way off and set it on the nightstand. She peeked at him from beneath her eyelashes as she curled her legs under herself and fiddled with her open cuffs. Her unbuttoned shirt exposed her skin-tone bra and panties and flawless creamy skin.