From Enemies to Expecting(7)By: Kat Cantrell
“I heard you,” he growled and went to smack away her finger—she’d assumed—but he crushed her palm to his chest, holding it captive with his hand. “What I meant was, that’s the craziest thing you’ve said so far today.”
The cameraman had zoomed in on their discussion. She noted the lens from the corner of her eye and nearly smiled.
You couldn’t buy this kind of exposure. This time tomorrow—with her help—this clip would go viral: Two executives melt down on the set of a reality TV show. Viewers would see a strong woman not taking any crap from her male partner. As long as they spelled Fyra correctly, it should amp up the positive publicity and counter the negative.
“Get ready for more crazy, because not only are you attracted to me, you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss me. Admit it. You’re curious about the tongue piercing.”
“Of course I am,” he bit out, fuzzing her brain at the same time.
He was? Fascinated, she zeroed in on him, and yeah, there was a whole lot more than agitation in his expression. Logan McLaughlin, official Boy Scout of major league baseball, had never kissed a woman with a tongue piercing. And he wanted to.
Heat and a thick awareness flooded all the places between them. His heart thumped under her palm, strong but erratic, which perfectly mirrored the stuff going on under her own skin.
“What red-blooded male wouldn’t be curious,” he murmured. “When there’s only one reason to have a steel bar through your tongue—to pleasure a man.”
His eyelids shuttered for a beat, and when he opened them, his eyes held so much wicked intent, her pulse bobbled. Caught in his hot gaze, she swayed toward him, her hand fisting his shirt. “One way to find—”
His mouth captured hers before she’d fully registered him moving. And then all rational thought drained from her mind as Logan kissed her. The TV set melted away, the fascinated onlookers disappeared—none of it registered as he yanked her into his embrace.
Exactly where she wanted to be.
Logan McLaughlin was perfection under her hands, because yes, he was that hard all over. His back alone qualified as a work of art, defined with peaks and valleys that she hadn’t ever felt on a man before. Imagine that. Something new to be discovered on a male body.
She wanted more. And took it.
Tilting her head, she deepened the kiss, and he countered instantly, swirling his tongue forward to find hers, taking command of the kiss, heightening the roar of hunger pounding through her veins. His mouth. God, the things it was doing to her. The things it could do.
And then all at once, his lips disappeared and she swayed forward, desperate to get them back on hers. Instead, he leaned in and nuzzled her ear.
“How’d I do?” he murmured. “Close enough to what you were going for?”
Trinity laughed, because what else could she do? “Yeah. That was perfect.”
He’d been on to her scheme the entire time. Of course. What had she thought, that a man with commitment and white picket fences written all over him might actually go for a woman like her, who’d turned her independence into a shield? That he’d been as into the kiss as she had?
Never in a million years would they make sense together—unless it was fake.
This was a great place for goodbye. But for some reason, Trinity was having a very difficult time taking her hands off her partner.
The next morning, Trinity entered the five-story glass-and-steel building that housed the cosmetics company she’d helped build with her marketing savvy and love of all things feminine. She still got a thrill out of the modern design and purple accents she and her three partners had selected, and the location just north of downtown Dallas was perfect for a single woman who owned an amazing condo in the heart of the city.
Cass had been making noises about moving the company to Austin. Trinity kept her mouth shut because Fyra’s CEO had a very good reason for wanting to do so—her husband, Gage, lived there and they were expecting a baby together. Trinity didn’t have anything against Austin, per se. But it was yet another example of something she had no control over. She hated anything that smacked of lack of control.