Sure, he has come in here and apologized for, yet again, being a dickhead. Don’t get me wrong; the apology is a first and a shock. But I’ve had enough of his dickish ways.
The silence between us stretches and drags. I’ve overdried my hands. Now, I’m counting the tiles on the wall.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I toss the towel on the counter and turn around to face him. “Is there something you need me to do?”
That’s it, Daisy. Keep it work-related. Don’t make it personal.
Is it personal?
Kas warily eyes me. Then, he tips his head in the direction of the bag of muffins I brought him, which is now sitting on the center island.
“You can help me eat those.” His words are soft but ineffective.
“No, I’m good. Anything else?”
He stares at me, surprised and also like he’s not sure what to do now.
What did he think was going to happen? That I’d fall at his feet and say, Yes, Kas! Of course I want to help you eat those muffins that I brought you and put in your office before you yelled at me.
Not likely, arsehole.
“Is there something else you need?” I push.
I’m pushing because I want to get out of here and away from him.
His brows draw together in consternation. “No.”
“Okay. Well, I’ve got work to do, so…” I pivot on my heel and make for the door.
“Actually…”
His low tone stops me in my tracks, and I slowly turn to face him.
He pushes off the counter and walks forward, stopping by the island. The look in his eyes makes my heart bang against my rib cage. He leans his hip against the island and folds his arms over his chest. I ignore how good his arms look while stretched over that magnificent chest of his.
Magnificent chest. Have you heard me?
You dislike him, remember, Daisy?
“I changed my mind,” he says. “There is something you can do for me.”
I frown. “What is it?”
“You can accept my fucking apology.”
I laugh.
I actually laugh.
His brows angrily crash together.
Still laughing, I say, “You really need to work on your apologies, Mr. Matis.”
That makes his frown deeper.
Tired of this conversation and him, I turn and start to leave, but he stops me—this time, with a hand on my wrist.
Surprised that he got across the kitchen that quickly, I spin back and find myself staring up into his livid black eyes.
“What are you doing?” I fire at him.
But it’s like he didn’t hear me. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he says low and seething.
Taken aback by his words, I say, “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Then, just like the snap of fingers, I change my mind. “Actually, I do want something from you. I want you to stop yelling at me!” It’s funny I say that because I’m yelling at him right now. “I want you to stop being a wanker to me! I want you to stop running hot and cold with your moods! I want you to treat me like a human being—all the time and not just some of the time! I want—”
I don’t get to finish that sentence. My words are cut off by his mouth.
Because the bastard kisses me.
He actually plants his lips on mine and kisses me.
Twenty
He’s kissing me.
Holy shit. Kas is kissing me.
He’s kissing me!
It takes a fifth of a second for that shock to wear off. Then, the feel of his lips against mine registers, and all bets are off.
My free hand finds its way to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. I part my lips on a soft moan. He takes advantage of that and slips his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeper. And I give back as good as I get.
Kas backs me up to the wall, his mouth still firmly on mine.
His hand is gripping my wrist. He pins my arm to the wall and then pins the lower half of his body with mine, trapping me. Not that I’m looking to get away anytime soon. Or ever.
And, holy hell…he’s hard. I can feel his erection digging into my stomach.
I made him hard from just a kiss.
Go, me!
The feel of him hard and pressed up against me with his tongue sweeping delicious strokes over mine has me squirming. I’m pretty sure my knickers are damp as well.
God, the man can kiss.
I could write songs about how well he can kiss.
But then that would be weird. And, also, I can’t write for shit.
Kas drops my wrist and takes ahold of my face with both hands, and then he angles my head so that he can kiss me exactly how he wants to. And I have absolutely no problem with that.
I slide my hands around his back, wanting to feel him, solid and strong beneath my fingers.
His tongue sweeps over my bottom lip, making me moan and move against him.
I feel a shudder run through him, and he presses even harder against me.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans before taking my mouth again.
He kisses me with more intensity, bordering on crazy.
And I match him stroke for stroke.
We’re pulling on each other, both taking what we need. Basically fucking the hell out of each other’s mouths.
All of him is against me, and even still, I don’t feel close enough.
I want more of him. I want all of him.
I hook my leg around his. His hand leaves my face and slides down to my thigh. He lifts my leg higher, hooking it around his hip.
He shifts his lower body, grinding himself against me.
Right on the very spot where I need him. The spot that’s begging for his touch.
His teeth graze over my bottom lip as he thrusts up against me.
“Yes, Kas,” I moan.