Taste Me. Carrie Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ photo stylist.”

      “Whatever you say. He just left with the model.”

      “Yes, that’s why we’re meeting up,” Mia insisted, even though he’d caught her in a lie. “In ten minutes.” She snatched up a small plastic cup of purple paint that had been overlooked. The crew at the photographer’s next shoot could graze on the remaining boxes of Sugar High candy.

      She felt Julian’s eyes on her. It was hard to ignore the magnetic pull they seemed to generate.

      He cleared his throat. “Would you cancel if I asked you to come with me instead?”

      “No. I don’t do that to my friends.”

      “You don’t like me,” he said with the supreme confidence of the adored.

      “Oh gosh. What gave you that idea?” Mia angled her head to look up at him, intending to be skeptical.

      Not easy. He stood at least a head—maybe a head and a neck—above her five-two. Health and vigor radiated off him. The conservative business suit couldn’t hide that his body was as lean and toned as an Olympic swimmer’s. She’d know that even if she hadn’t touched him through his shirt, or seen the shift of muscles when he’d tossed his jacket over his shoulder. She’d know even if she was locked in a sensory deprivation tank. His masculine aura was that strong.

      Worse, he had the chiseled face of a Greek god…if Greek gods had been given hot-towel shaves and herbal facial wraps. Then there was the wealth, privilege and charm, not to mention the caustic humor that cut his arrogance to an acceptable level of confidence.

      As far as she could see, the man didn’t have a flaw. Not one single flaw.

      Very irritating.

      Mia was both repelled and fascinated by the perfection. Julian was at the other end of the spectrum from her usual boho crowd of artists, writers and other creative types, most of whom struggled to make rent as they stayed true to their muses.

      However, she despised superficial judgments. It seemed only fair that she give Julian a chance to prove that he was more than the sum of his glossy parts and lady-killer reputation.

      Oh sure. That’s what Miss Hood had said before the Big Bad Wolf got his jaws around her.

      Mia knew what she had to do. Put him back in his place and then keep away.

      Julian shrugged. “What gave me that idea? Oh, I don’t know. Read any gossip columns lately?”

      “Nope. I tear Page Six into strips for papier-mâché.”

      “What a relief. It’s all true, but now we can skip the usual explanations and apologies.”

      “All true?” Mia blurted.

      Julian grinned. “I thought you weren’t familiar with my exploits. Most of them greatly exaggerated, if I may add.”

      Ha! She could just imagine what didn’t make it into the papers. “I overhear things. You’re a player.”

      “Assume what you will, little girl.”

      Little girl? Was that a shot at her height? Maybe the cutesy features that she’d given up agonizing over? She might have been ticked if she wasn’t positive his eyes had twinkled when he’d said it. He was deliberately provoking her!

      Into doing what?

      Mia glanced down into the cup of grape paint. Her grip tightened when Julian leaned even closer. If he tried to kiss her, she’d throw the congealing contents in his face.

      He dipped a finger into the cup. Tasted it. “Very sweet.”

      “We thickened grape juice.” Or, actually, added dollops of juice and food coloring to a concoction of sugar and cornstarch. It probably didn’t taste very good at all.

      Julian dipped again. “Have you tried it?”

      He didn’t wait for an answer. His glistening finger touched her lips, drawing slowly across them. First the bottom, then the upper, leaving them coated with the sugary paint. A hundred sensations rushed through Mia’s body, surging upward to gather at her mouth. Her tingling lips swelled with anticipation.

      Instinctively, her tongue darted out to lick away the thick grape coating. She made herself stop, her tongue curled against her upper lip before she reluctantly drew it back in. Sugar melted into her taste buds, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was on other flavors to come: the taste of hot, hard lips, warm male skin, pungent, salty, sweet…deliciously sexy.

      “I want to taste,” Julian said.

      Her voice whispered, barely audible. “You—you already did.”

      His face was so close to hers she could have counted his nonexistent pores. His breath was warm and sweetened with the tang of peppermint. She knew that he would taste good, but not because of the candy.

      Their noses bumped. “I want to taste you.”

      She swallowed. “What makes you think I’ll taste any different than your thousand other conquests?”

      “Every woman is unique.”

      “But this one doesn’t want to be just another note in the Julian Silk hit parade.” And yet she didn’t pull away when his cheek grazed hers. His fingertips touched under her chin, tilting it up; instead of shaking him off, she felt her lips pout and her lids drift shut.

      “No worry. You, Mia Kerrigan, are an entire song.”

      Big whoop, she thought in some dim, lazy part of her brain, where there was still a sliver of rationality that wasn’t dying for his kiss. It was as if he were a spider who’d wrapped her in silken, sticky strands. She could not move. She was at his mercy. But lucky for her…

      Julian kissed her.

      Mercy.

      The man really knew how to kiss. Of course he did. Practice makes perfect.

      She couldn’t rouse much disgust for that, not when his lips were covering hers with a sure, steady pressure that was somehow soft and hard at the same time, and easy, and deep, sending urgent signals to her fuzzy brain about wrapping her arms around him and pushing her breasts into his chest.

      She held the cup of paint to the side and slid her free hand around to his back. He’d gripped her by the waist and was bending her under the force of his kiss. She arched—terribly, wonderfully conscious of the ache in her breasts as they rubbed against the rough denim of her overalls…the melting sensation between her thighs…

      The prodding of a growing hard-on.

      Whoa. The man was a quick draw. With a hefty six-shooter, by the feel of it.

      “Umm,” Mia said.

      Julian took the opportunity to slip his velvet tongue into her mouth. Grape and peppermint. Sugar and spice. Seduction and delusion.

      “That’s enough.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ