Playing Hard to Get(33)

“I’m not so bad, right, Jo Jo?” His smile is faint, seemingly full of doubt.

There’s no trace of the arrogant bravado from last week, and I wonder why.

“You seem like a decent guy,” I concede.

“I’m the most decent guy you’ll ever meet.” He actually scoffs.

“Mr. Player? I don’t know about that, Knox.”

We’re quiet for a moment, the unavoidable tension between us growing.

Filling the room like fog, until it’s swirling around us. It’s all I can see and feel.

“I like it when you say my name,” he finally admits, his voice low. Gravelly.

Sexy.

Shit!

“Oh, come on. You hear girls chant your name every weekend,” I tease.

“That’s not the same.”

“I’m sure it’s even better.” I mean, come on. He has a major fan base. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis, I’m sure. Isn’t that more exciting than little ol’ me?

“Not really.”

We’re quiet again and I clear my throat, reaching for the iPad. He’s faster than me, shoving it out of my way and across the table, so I can’t grab it. “Hey.”

“I’m not reading anymore.” His voice is firm, as is his expression.

“Why not?” I start to lunge across the table, but Knox stops me, his hands on my shoulders, slowly shoving me back into my seat. “Come on.”

I’m whining. He’s still touching me, his hands curved around my upper arms, and he gentles his grip, slowly hauling me closer. “Joanna.”

Staring at his mouth, I watch him descend, unable to stop him. Unable to say anything, a tiny squeak leaving me two seconds before he settles that perfect mouth on mine.

And then we’re kissing.

His hands are on my face, cupping my cheeks, and it’s like one of those fantasy kisses you see in the movies, but even better because it’s real. His lips are soft and warm and persuasive. I part my lips almost immediately, allowing his tongue entry, but he doesn’t quite take it.

No, he teases me with his tongue, licking at the seam of my lips. Teasing just the tip of mine before he retreats, making me want more. I rest my hands on his broad chest, tilting my head, trying to take the kiss deeper, but he still won’t do it.

I whimper in frustration, and he streaks both of his thumbs across my cheeks, still keeping it light. Sweet. Like he’s savoring it.

Savoring me.

Well, it’s been months since I’ve been kissed by someone, and years since I’ve been kissed by someone new. I want more.

Now.

He slips one hand under my jaw, angling my head just so, nipping at my lower lip with his teeth.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked into the room,” he murmurs, his deep voice making me shiver.

“Really?” I’m still squeaking. I sound like a mouse.

He smiles. Nibbles my lip again. “Really.”

Knox draws my lower lip between his, sucking on it, making my insides turn to liquid. He releases it, his fingers sliding into my hair, my scalp tingling. I’m on sensory overload and I wonder if he knows it.

I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose.

“You said what happens in this room stays in this room, right?” He murmurs the question against my lips, tickling me.

“Y-yes.” I didn’t mean it in regard to things like this though…

“Perfect,” he says, just before he takes the kiss deeper, his tongue doing a thorough sweep of my mouth.

I cling to him, helpless, my tongue sliding against his over and over. Oh, the man can kiss. Better than Bryan. Better than anyone I’ve ever kissed, not that there have been many.

I’m sure Knox Maguire has kissed lots of women. Hundreds of women.

The thought doesn’t deter me, because his magical lips are currently on mine and, my God, I don’t think I’ve felt anything better.

He breaks the kiss first, disappointment coursing through my blood, my mouth aching and already missing his, but I’m immediately placated when he blazes a path of kisses along my neck, making me shiver. I tilt my head back, a sigh leaving me when he continues to kiss and lick at my sensitive skin, and I’m clinging onto his shoulders like I’m afraid I’ll slip away if I don’t. His hands are running up and down my back, nice and slow, and I crack my eyes open when he pulls away, so our gazes meet.

“You can touch me, you know.” The desperation in his voice is obvious.

He’s dying for me to put my hands on him.

Giving in to his need, I slide my hand down his chest, slowly. Lingering. Wishing I could shove my hand beneath his T-shirt and touch his bare skin.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The words leave me without hesitation. I didn’t even plan on saying them.

“We’re just kissing. That’s it.” He actually does slip his hand beneath the hem of my sweater, his fingers streaking up my spine, making me shiver. “Your skin is so soft.”

That one statement spurs us into action and has us frantically reaching for each other. His arm hooks around my waist. Mine slide around his neck. Next thing I know, I’m on his lap, straddling him in the chair, our mouths fused, our low moans filling the air. The sound of our lips connecting. Breaking apart.