A round of applause breaks out, and she jumps back, and the sweet, pliant girl is replaced with my tigress. “You can’t just go around kissing people!” she hisses.
I give her a lopsided grin. “I think I just did.”
“It’s… but… I can’t…” she sputters.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Tell me, darlin’, are you wet for me?”
Her breaths come rougher, and I know I’m right. She’s turned on and is angry about it. She doesn’t want to be attracted to me. I’ll show her how right this is.
“That’s none of your business,” she says for my ears only.
I lick my lips. “I bet your little pussy is as sweet as you are. I grip her hair and pull her head back for another kiss—this one softer, sweeter. Once again, she melts for me. “Get used to me kissing you, Ana… it’s going to happen a lot more.”
She looks at me wide-eyed but doesn’t argue. Whether it’s because she knows it’s useless or because she’s as affected by me as I am her and she doesn’t want to protest, I don’t know. Either way is a win for me. She’ll learn in time it’s a win for her too.
5 Ana
He kissed me! In public. At my job. In front of half the town. Holy crap. That’s not exactly how I thought my first kiss would happen, especially not how I pictured it or who I pictured it with… But it was one hell of a good kiss. Well, I think it was. It’s not like I have anything to measure it by. Hours later and my lips are still tingling from his on mine. It’s like he burned the feel and taste of him into my skin.
No matter how much I scold myself, I can’t get the vision of him picking that little shit who felt me up out of his chair and almost crushing his hand when it nearly came to blows out of my mind. I might’ve told him I had it handled but having someone step in for me was hot.
I shake my head; I can’t like Carson. I just can’t. He’s a jerk to me. He hates me—well, at least I thought he did before the kiss. Now, I’m questioning everything.
My phone rings, and I wipe my hands off on my shorts. I escaped to my flower beds the minute my shift ended and have been weeding and digging and planting spring bulbs for hours.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Carson freaking Moore kissed you in the middle of Burnt Sugar, and you didn’t call me?!” Margo says instead of a greeting. I wondered how long it would take for someone to call freaking out. I’m not surprised it’s Margo since her man is my boss and the diner's owner.
“Yeah. He kissed me in front of half the town,” I grumble.
“Was it good?” she asks. She’s one of three people who know about my kiss-less status, so she knows that the moment was more significant than a simple kiss. The fact that I didn’t slap him says it all, really.
I sit back on my knees and think about the moment and how it makes me feel. Desired. Sexy… wanted… oh and horny. “Yeah, it was good,” I answer honestly. “Really good.”
That makes me wonder if it was as good for Carson. He did say there would be more kisses, so it couldn’t have been terrible. I wonder if he realized it was my first kiss. I brush that aside. It’s neither here nor there because he stole it and now it’s his. Though I find that I don’t mind too much.
My protest that we hate each other isn’t even holding up in my own mind. I’m starting to see all the things he’s said and done in the past as protective, if not a bit caveman-ish. I can understand my body betraying me. Carson is freakin’ hot. He’s tall, built like the MMA fighter he used to be, and just sinfully sexy with those ice-cold blue eyes that see way more than you want them too.
That is the only reason why I responded to his kisses. Carnal desire. It has nothing to do with liking him… does it?
“So, what’s the problem?” Margo asks, breaking my train of thought.
I lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky. “He hates me, Mar. How could he kiss someone he hates? Better yet, how could I kiss someone back that I hate?”
“Carson doesn’t hate you. He just has a weird way of showing how much he likes you. He speaks grunt and grumble… Amos was like that at first, too, remember?”
I sigh. “But he looked at you with goo-goo eyes. He never went out of his way to be mean to you like Carson has. He’s insulted me basically every time we’ve talked.”
“But were they insults?” she asks.
“He told me never to wear my purple skirt again! Then remember that pretty emerald green blouse I had? He told me it was inappropriate. The next time I wore it, he spilled gravy on it and ruined it!” My anger is coming back, drowning out the sexual tension his lips breathed into my body.
“I remember the blouse. It’s the one that made your boobs look amazing. And the skirt that makes your legs go on for miles…” she talks slowly as if trying to make a point and giving me a chance to catch up.
“Are you saying he doesn’t like looking at my body?”
I can hear Margo rolling her eyes at my less than brilliant answer. I know exactly what she was hinting at, but if she’s right, then that means I’ve read Carson all wrong, and he does like me—a lot.
“I’m just going to ignore you trying to act like you
