Page 69 of Himbo Hitman
“Y-yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
Hearing those words makes me surge forward. My eyes squeeze closed, I grip his face between my hands, and I smoosh our lips together so hard I swear I nearly break his nose. My heartbeat is so fucking loud it takes a moment to pick up that St. Clare’s grunt wasnota good one.
He jerks back from my hold. “Well, that was aggressive.”
“Thanks?”
“Not in a good way.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
Wow. Right. That doesn’t hurt. “It was my first time,” I try to defend.
“First time what? Beingaroundanother human?”
“Kissing a man.”
“What if I told you it’s not all that different to kissing a woman?”
“I’d ask you if you’ve ever kissed a woman before because that was nowhere even close to being the same.”
“Good. It’s a relief that you don’t go around attempting to pull the head offeveryoneyou hook up with.”
“I didn’t try to pull off your head!” I’m so loud I’m surprised Lars doesn’t burst in here. “I was nervous, okay? That’s a perfectly normal, totally fine thing to be, and I don’t think that a little, well,passionis such a bad thing, actually.”
“I agree. It’s not.”
I grunt and fold my arms over my chest. “You’re complaining about it pretty loudly right now.”
“No, I’m complaining about your attempt to eat my face. That was completely absent of passion.”
“And now you’re insulting my kissing skills.”
“I would be … if that was kissing.”
I finally look over at him again. “Then what the hell do you call it?”
“A personal attack on attraction everywhere?”
Ihumpfand turn away again. “Well, if that’s how you feel, I’ll just take my attraction somewhere it’s appreciated.”
“I don’t think that place exists, Perry.”
I’m about to get up and storm out of the room when St. Clare pulls me back onto the bed almost as fast as I stand. Then he throws one leg over my waist, straddling my thighs, and like that, I’ve forgotten everything I was supposed to be doing.
My hands are up in front of me like a busted perp, and my jaw is down somewhere around my aching balls.
He smirks, a light breaking through the deep offense I’mriddled with, and when he takes my hands and sets them on his hips, I finally remember how to swallow.
“You are way too high-strung,” he murmurs, gaze settled back on my mouth. “And you have an abnormally large Adam’s apple.”
“Are you insulting me again?”
“No. It just means you can’t swallow around me, ever, because it’s a kink I wasn’t aware I had before, and every time you do it, it makes me want to lick your throat.”
I’m still in complete shock when I do it again.
St. Clare groans. “Don’t test me.”
