The Kiss Quotient(92)

Brushing off the bear’s fur, she said, “This can be interpreted as stalking, you know.”

He ducked his head with a sheepish smile. “I know.”

“You need to stop all of this.”

“It’s not just a little romantic? I don’t have a lot of experience with courting, so you’ll have to excuse me if I come across too strong.”

She pursed her lips. With his looks and charisma, she was sure all he generally had to do was crook his finger and wait for women to crawl to him. She didn’t want to be one of those foolish women anymore. “Cut it out, Michael. We both know you’re not courting me.”

His shoulders stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t need to protect me from Philip anymore. He’s switched his attention to the receptionist.”

“None of this has been about Philip.” He stalked toward her, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight.

Her instincts told her to back away as he neared, but stubbornness had her digging her feet in. She lifted her chin. She wasn’t scared of him. “I’m done being your charity case. I don’t want—”

Clasping the sides of her face in his hands, he kissed her. Sensation shocked through her, ending her struggles before they began. The cool silk of his lips on hers felt like heaven. As he stroked his hot tongue into her mouth, his salty taste and familiar scent intoxicated her. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her body to his. He surrounded her with his arms and aligned their hips, her softness to his hardness. Liquid aching pervaded her limbs.

“Look at you melting for me,” he rasped against her mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

He kissed her again, a deep, slow tasting that curled her toes and made her sigh against his lips. Her hair loosened, and she shivered as he threaded his fingers into the mass.

“Pretty Stella,” he whispered, running his hands over her loose locks. “I might not have the hang of courting, but I kiss you right.”

That snapped her out of her kiss-induced haze immediately. She jerked free of his arms and wiped a sleeve over her mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Don’t touch me. I don’t want you doing anything with me out of pity.”

“Why do you keep talking about pity? I never said I pitied you,” he said with a frown.

“Then why didn’t you take my money?” Without waiting for his response, she retrieved the bear from the ground for the second time. She wanted to hug it close, but she made herself hand it to him. “This past week was nice, but I’ve had enough. I’m asking you to stop. Please.”

“Does that mean you no longer have feelings for me?”

A film of moisture glossed over her eyes, and she spun away from him blindly. “I’m going to go now.”

“Because I have feelings for you.”

She froze, felt his hand close around hers and pull until she faced him once again. He tipped her chin up, and her tears threatened to spill free. Had he really said that? With her heart drumming in her ears like this, she must have misheard.

He took a breath, released it, took another. “I didn’t take your money because I’m in love with you. I told myself you needed me, that helping you would prove I wasn’t like my dad, but those were just excuses to be with you. You don’t need me, and I don’t have to prove I’m not like my dad. I know I’m not. I ended things because I was certain you didn’t love me back. But when you said you were going to get over me, you gave me hope.”

Her skin flushed with heat—her hands, her neck, her face, the tips of her ears. He didn’t pity her. He loved her. Had she heard correctly? Was it true?

He swallowed once. “Could you say something, please? When a guy tells a girl he loves her, he doesn’t want silence in response. Was I too late? Are you over me?”

“Are you wearing the underwear I got you?”

Laughter cracked out of him. “Sometimes, the way your mind works is a complete mystery to me.”

“Are you?” She transferred the bear underneath her arm and tucked her fingers into the waistband of his pants above his leather belt.

Lips curving, he unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and drew the zipper down. “If we get arrested for lewd acts in public, they better let us share a cell.”

She pulled his shirttails out of the way, and even in the poor lighting of the parking lot, she could see the red plaid of his boxers. She lifted her eyes to his as effervescent warmth pervaded her body, filling her heart and spreading to every extremity. He did love her. And her theory was confirmed. Michael’s β had changed from one to zero. For her. “You’re wearing them.”

“I don’t like to go commando. Chafing.”

Trying to suppress a goofy grin, she straightened his pants and belt. “Women buy underwear for the men they love. It’s economics. Data supports this claim.”

“Are you telling me you love me, Stella?”

She hugged Karate Bear tight and nodded, suddenly overcome by shyness.

“You’re not going to give me the words?” he asked.

“I’ve never said them to anyone but my parents.”

“You think I run around telling women I love them?” He pulled her close and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m going to get the words out of you. Tonight.”