Gypsy king

“No.” I ran my hand up her bare arm, from wrist to shoulder. Her breath shook and the fine hairs on her forearm rose. Her chest heaved but she didn’t pull away.

At least I wasn’t the only one affected by this magnetism between us. By this chemistry and this . . . want. Touching her pushed my control to the edge, so before it broke, I flicked the material on her tank top and moved away. “It says so on your shirt.”

She flinched, looking down at the words on her gray tank. The color in her cheeks flushed brighter as she scooted away an inch, pretending that my touch hadn’t just scorched us both.

I’d come up with a plan as I’d worked on the Mustang today.

My intimidation tactics weren’t working on Bryce and never would. She didn’t care that I had money. She didn’t care that I had power. She didn’t care that I had enough pull in this town to ruin her precious newspaper.

Because she was different. She wasn’t going to respond in the same way as a man. So instead of treating her like I would a man, I had to treat her like the gorgeous woman she was.

I couldn’t threaten her into silence, but maybe I could seduce her onto my side instead.

The plan had seemed brilliant an hour ago. Now that I’d touched her, maybe it was as goddamn stupid as it seemed.

How was I supposed to seduce a woman who made it impossible to think about anything other than stripping off those leggings?

I took another long drink of my beer and cleared my throat. “Paper comes out on Sunday. Anything you want to throw in my face before then?”

“Not at the moment,” she said quietly as I studied her profile.

Her nose was straight except for a small bump at the end. Her lips were plump, the bottom slightly wet from the beer. She even had a nice chin. I don’t know if I’d ever noticed the shape of a woman’s chin before but hers was tapered to a soft point. I couldn’t think of a nicer chin in the world.

“You’re staring.”

I blinked. “Yep.”

She twisted her neck to meet my gaze. “At the risk of being repetitive, you haven’t answered my question. Why are you on my porch? Because if it’s to intimidate me by telling me you’ve been following me around or to threaten—”

I slammed my mouth down on hers. Oh, hell. I never made the first move on a woman. My seduction technique was shit. But I couldn’t resist that mouth, and I had to taste it. I slid my hand up her face, my thumb resting on that perfect chin.

Bryce sat frozen. I’d already swallowed the little gasp she’d let out as my lips had crushed hers. She didn’t pull away. I waited for it, mentally counting the seconds before her beer bottle would smash into my temple. I’d need stitches for sure.

Except it never came.

Instead, she melted.

My tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip, tasting her own sweetness with the bitter beer. She parted for me and angled her head, giving me permission to sink in and get wet. And God—I moaned down her throat—she tasted good.

She slid her tongue into my mouth, but before we could get serious, she yanked her face away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of that familiar angry fire. Bryce stood, swiping up her beer to march to the front door. The keys rattled in her hand and the door pushed open, but before she disappeared inside, she shot me a snarl over her shoulder.

“Drunk or not, get the hell off my porch.”

Yeah. That was a damn good idea.