Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [31]
Oh, thank heaven.
“Are you always so bossy?” he growled.
I somehow found the strength to nod once.
“Anybody ever do anything about it?”
Licking my lips, I shook my head and managed to whisper, “Uh-uh.”
“Maybe it’s time someone did.”
I had a really good someone in mind.
Scared—excited—I just stood there, waiting. Finally, after a long, breathless moment, he tugged me closer, until my body was crushed against his. Even though I was half out of my mind with want, there was no missing the ridge of arousal I felt pressed against my crotch. God, he was big. Hard. And I could barely remain on my feet.
Simon dipped his head closer. Dying for his kiss, I tilted mine back, closing my eyes and parting my lips, breathless with anticipation.
When he did kiss me, though, it wasn’t the hungry, deep and passionate encounter of the night before. Instead, he did something completely shocking.
He caught my lower lip between his, sucked it into his mouth and bit on it. Lightly. But deliberately.
I almost came right then. Hot waves of pleasure radiated through me, rocketing in a frenzy to pound between my legs, which went weak. As if he knew it, he pulled me closer, his fingers tightening around my bottom as he hoisted me, until I was almost riding that massive erection.
He licked away the spot where he’d bitten, as if easing some nonexistent pain. When what I really wanted was for him to nibble and nip at my entire body.
But oh, I think I could forego his teeth because his tongue was utterly delicious, sliding across my lip. I tried to wriggle closer, to catch his mouth with mine for the kind of slow, drugging kiss I knew he could provide. Simon, unfortunately, seemed to have finished doing whatever it was he wanted to do. Because he suddenly let go of my hands, allowing me to slide down to stand on my own feet, and stepped back.
His eyes were stormy, his frown fierce, as if I had been the aggressor and had stolen an unwilling embrace from him.
Not that I’d been unwilling. Oh, no.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.
“I’m not going anywhere. You said I could stay.”
I heard that note of belligerence in my voice that had always served me well when dealing with my brothers. Of course, with my brothers, I always had the threat that I’d tell my parents about something they’d done to back it up.
With this man, I had nothing. Nothing but bravado and sheer force of will.
We were at a checkmate moment and I held my breath waiting for his next move. When he made it, I wanted to cry in relief. Because fortunately, force of will seemed to be enough. Though a muscle in his cheek clenched, making that strong jaw of his jut out, he finally nodded. “All right. But only for a day or two. Get what you need and then go back where you came from.”
Turning away from me, he strode toward the door. Before exiting, though, he looked back at me. “And just stay out of my way because I’m going to do my best to pretend you’re not here.”
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, after sneezing about twenty times in a row due to the rank air permeating the basement, I decided to try a change of scenery. I’d gone through a bunch of old mildewy boxes that contained lots of paperwork on the hotel. Guest registries, comment cards, advertisements, bills of sale for supplies and groceries. All appeared to be from the past twenty years or so, when Simon’s uncle had been running the place. Right up until this past June. I even found my professor’s name on a hotel reservation sheet.
I needed to go back further. So, remembering Simon’s words, I made my way to the third floor, started testing doors and found the one to the attic. Climbing up the narrow wooden steps, I made my way carefully, because they were steep and hard.
It was a good thing I was so interested in my topic, because it had been hell doing what Simon Lebeaux had asked of me this afternoon. Stay away from him? How on earth could I do that when all I wanted to do was touch the man, soothe his scars,