“I don’t want to kiss you.”
“A small, harmless peck on the lips.”
“You’d have to force me, Nick,” she sneered. “Now where would the fun be in that?”
He licked his lips and grinned, apparently pleased by her vehemence. Though it was unlikely he even knew the word. “I don’t have to force you. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Like I think you’re a sociopathic, misogynistic, kidnapping cretin?”
“Like I’m a man you’re attracted to.”
Like hell. “I prefer my version,” she said.
“I’m sure you do. But you’re still going to give me that kiss.” And he looked awful damn sure of himself.
Fuck him. She bared her teeth. “You’re insane. Better yet, you’re projecting. Do you know what that is, or shall I explain it to you?”
“I think I can figure it out.” The bastard actually winked at her.
“Bright boy. The summation of it is this: I do not want to kiss you.”
“You mean you don’t want to want to kiss me. There’s a difference.” The corners of his mouth curled upward. What she wouldn’t give to wipe the smirk off his face with the flat of her hand. “Would you like me to explain what that is, sweet?” he asked.
She held in the snarl of rage. Just. Her hands clenched into tight fists. It made the bruises from decking Neil ache. “You’re full of shit and I have no interest in touching you, kissing you or coming within fifty yards of you. Do you understand? Are those words little enough to penetrate your thick skull?”
“Oops. You said penetrate. You know what I’m thinking now?”
She blinked, stupefied.
“I want my kiss,” he said.
“I want you dead.”
He hung his head but his gaze stayed on her face. “Come on, Roslyn. Just one. Why are you putting up such a fight over one insignificant little kiss? Hmm?”
She covered her face with her hands, blocking all sight of him. Just a second to pull herself together, that was all she needed. Because lunging for his throat with her bare hands wouldn’t end well. No matter how tempting.
“Sweetheart, we were all cozy and warm last night. Every time you woke up and saw I was there, you went straight back to sleep. Just like a baby, safe and sound in my arms.”
She lowered her fingers to glower at him. “You didn’t give me any choice.”
“Mmm.” Dark eyes narrowed and he gave her an assessing look. “You prefer it that way, don’t you? Me making you do things?”
“No.” Her hands fell away and she literally saw red, a sheet of it, swamping her vision. A hot blood-red veil covered her world. How dare he insinuate such shit about her. “Absolutely not.”
“What do you think that means? That you like me being in charge?”
“I do not like you being in charge!” Birds fled from a tree nearby as her voice hit a pitch just short of shattering glass.
“Roslyn,” he groaned. “Why don’t you just give me the kiss?”
“I don’t want to kiss you because you’re holding me hostage, you idiot.”
“But besides that?”
“You’re a dickhead and an ass**le and I hate you. You repulse me.”
“Really? Do I?” He laughed in her face.
Murder was too good for him. Only torture would satisfy the sick shame and anger hiding inside her.
“Yes,” she said. “You make me want to puke.”
His hand rubbed at his mouth, half smothering a smile, and he made a noise of disbelief.
“You do! You’re dirty and sweaty and you stink and—”
And then the bastard kissed her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Roslyn did nothing for the longest time.
Nick pressed his lips against hers and waited. His hands cradled her head, holding her to him. He didn’t try to take it deeper and didn’t try for tongue.
Just kissed her, hard but chaste.
And wouldn’t she be impressed he even knew that word.
He poured all his lust for her into it, trying to show her how much he wanted her. Fuck but her lips were soft. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him with the familiar look of shock and horror in her wide eyes. But she didn’t move. She seemed to have frozen rock solid before him.
Reluctantly he stopped and pulled back, hands still in place. Silky strands of hair slipped between his fingers. He sat there on his haunches, staring at her closed mouth. Not getting distracted by the set of br**sts heaving beneath her baggy sweater. Her upper lip was a perfect dusky pink cupid’s bow. Was her pu**y the same color? Her ni**les?
Nick sat patiently, panting, waiting for her to do something. Shit, she didn’t even seemed to be breathing and he was about ready to hyperventilate.
Suddenly her face twisted into something like grief, eyes hurt and confused. A strangled, angry noise escaped her and she shoved him hard with both hands. An action so fast and violent it sent him reeling back onto his ass. He should have been ready for it.
“Roslyn. Don’t.”
She sprang to her feet and was off, getting the hell away from him as fast as she could. Arms and legs pumping, she sprinted down the driveway. Gravel crunched beneath her socked feet.
Nick pushed to his feet and took off after her, a bare body-length or two behind. It didn’t take much for him to catch her. For all her effort, she wasn’t fast. He grabbed her up in a big bear hug from behind. The woman yowled like a wet cat. Her feet left the ground and her heels drummed against his shins. She wrestled and growled and he just held on tight as he could without hurting her.
“Stop it,” he ordered.
Her kicking increased.
“Alright. Alright, I shouldn’t have done that.” Because a half-assed kiss wasn’t worth all this drama, not when it hadn’t even gotten him anywhere. But he had to push her, didn’t he? Fair enough if she pushed back.
He couldn’t resist the opportunity to grab for more. His idiot dick stirred in his pants, seconding the notion, loving the feel of her curvy ass writhing against him. She made him greedy and stupid, stupider even than normal. “Roslyn, ease up.”
Her elbows jerked, trying to reach him and failing.
“Easy,” he said. “I’m going to put you down.”
She slowly slid down him until her feet returned to solid ground. Bits of grass and debris clung to her socked feet.
“There,” he said. “Now calm down.”
“Let me go,” she huffed.