Chapter Three
Hot stuff? Could she get any more cringe-worthy? The wedding hoopla was sending Kiara crazy but had she actually called the gardener hot stuff?
Bad enough she couldn't keep her hands off him and imagined riding him behind the pool house. His fault. He'd started with the overt flirting and she'd run with it. Not that she was complaining. Copping a feel of his hard, sweaty chest had made her palm tingle with wanting to caress him all over.
She didn't come on to strangers usually but the divorce earlier had kicked her ass and the mindless cake tasting had pushed her over the edge.
Would it be so bad to have this gorgeous specimen of manhood push her over the edge in a different way?
"Bold, I like it." He stilled her hand and slid it higher up his abdomen. "But can you follow through?"
"Maybe." She patted the ridges of his six-pack in blatant appreciation before removing her hand. If she didn't stop touching him she'd be in danger of following through with her horny thoughts. "Though I'm not in the habit of having sex with strangers."
His slow, sexy smile turned her insides to treacle, warm and viscous, dulling her common sense. "But we're not strangers. You're a divorce lawyer who hates weddings and I hate weddings, too."
He snapped his fingers. "See? We have so much in common already."
"Hmm…" She tapped her bottom lip, pretending to think, trying not to show how much she enjoyed sparring with him. She loved a guy with a killer sense of humour. "What's your stance on romance?"
His nose crinkled, doing little to detract from his handsome face. "It's for suckers."
Another tick in his favour. "What about Valentine's Day?"
He grabbed at his throat and pretended to gag. "Commercialised rubbish. Makes me want to puke."
"Good answer." She folded her arms, studying him with renewed interest. "I think you're the male version of me."
"See? That roll in the rose petals, as you so delicately put it, is inevitable." He reached out and touched her arm, starting at her shoulder and trailing a fingertip slowly down to her wrist. "Fate."
"I don't believe in it. We control our own destiny," she said, her breath hitching as he slipped his thumb into her palm and stroked it in lazy, concentric circles that sent heat flowing through her.
"Are you in control now?"
He stepped in close, the intoxicating blend of citrus aftershave and sweat making her want to bury her face into his chest and inhale.
"Totally," she murmured, making a mockery of her bold declaration when she let out an embarrassing yelp as he nuzzled her neck, nipping at the tender skin with small, precise bites designed to tease.
"What about now?"
His hands rested on her waist, spanning it easily, before tugging her towards him until she could feel hard evidence of how far he wanted to take this flirtation.
"One hard-on isn't going to make me lose control."
She flung it out there as a challenge, well aware guys loved nothing better.
Because she'd come to a decision. This may have started out as a bit of lighthearted banter to take the edge off her lousy day but being visually bombarded by his hotness, followed up by feeling him and smelling him…her body had overruled her logical brain for once.
What better way to rid herself of romance and weddings and all that hearts-and-flowers rubbish than by having hot, meaningless sex with a stranger?
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