Christmas In The City (Imperfect Match 1.50)

Before she can try to drag me out again, I shut the door in her face, put the chain on, and rush back into my bedroom.

I close the door, toss my robe aside and lean back against the wood. It feels extra cool because I’m still burning up from that orgasm. “Hi.”

Michael smiles. “Hi. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, my boss was just … it doesn’t matter.”

“Come here,” Michael says crooking his finger at me.

6

Michael

While Harlow stepped out to deal with whomever it was that stopped by, I lay there trying to make sense of what the hell is happening.

How did this girl, whom I just met, manage to get me to break all of my rules? I never fuck on the first date. And I usually spend a good amount of time making sure I don’t end up with a stage-five clinger.

Still, I can’t seem to help myself.

“Kiss me,” I demand.

And she does.

It takes me no time to get hard again. The second I saw those brown eyes after she closed the door, flushed and still glowing a little after she came on my tongue—it’s all I need. She tastes like sugar and spice and everything fucking fantastic.

“You have too much on,” Harlow says as she stands at the edge of the bed right between my legs.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

She grins. “I’m thinking that maybe we should remove some of it.”

“Just maybe?”

Her fingers move to the buttons of my dress shirt. She slowly pushes each one out of its hole, moving down lower and lower. I groan as she lets her nails scrape down my undershirt, loving the way her breath hitches when she feels the muscles beneath.

Harlow drops to her knees. “I need to be eye level,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. I swear, I’m going to blow like a teen on prom night if she wraps that fuckable mouth around my cock.

I close my eyes for a second, thinking of anything unsexy to try to get a grip.

Spiders. Pizza. Elephants.

Then she makes a low moan and there’s not a damn thing I can think of to reduce how fucking turned on I am.

“Promise me you’re not crazy,” I find myself saying, because this girl is pretty damn perfect. Not that I think crazy people realize they’re nuts, but I’m praying she’s not. My last girlfriend was a money-grubbing bitch. All she wanted was the family money and status.

It’s why I’ve sworn off dating anyone who knows who the hell I am.

Michael West, heir to the West Investment millions.

She looks up through her sooty lashes. “I’m not. Promise me you’re not an asshole who is going to treat me like a pariah tomorrow.”

I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “I promise.”

“Good, then you’re still overdressed and I’m very much wanting to get back where we were.”