Wrong Number, Right Guy
Page 30
“Do you love me?” I ask him, staring deep into his eyes.
“What do you think?” He grins at me, leaning down to kiss me again.
I turn my head to the side so he can’t get to me. “I think you’d better tell me if you don’t want me driving home tonight.”
He laughs really loudly and flips himself over, dragging me with him. I’m now straddling him on top.
“I love you, Little Bo Peep. Hope you can handle it.”
I reach down and press on the cleft in his chin. “Stop calling me that stupid name.” I can’t be mad at him for real. He just confessed his love for me. A love I already knew was there the minute I saw him racing up my driveway to save my life.
“How about Little Red Riding Hood?” he asks. “Do you like that name instead?”
I reach down and grab one of his nipples, preparing to twist it. “What do you think?”
He holds up his hands at the sides of his head. “Mercy! I beg for mercy. I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, just don’t give me a twister.”
I loosen my hold and sit back satisfied. “I think I’d like to be called . . .”
He sits up all of a sudden and then flips me onto my back once again. Looming over me he gets that sexy look in his eye that I remember from the other night. Electricity zooms through my body as I wait for his next words.
“I’m going to call you mine. May ‘Mine’ Wexler.”
“I don’t think that’s going to go over very well with the team.”
“Tough. You’re mine and I get what I want.”
I get a sly look of my own. “And what do you want, boss man?”
He climbs off me and lies on his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I want you . . . to take off all your clothes.”
“What if I’m too sore to have sex?”
“I’ll be gentle.”
“What if I’m too scared?”
“I’ll ease your mind.”
“What if I’m worried you’ll break my heart?”
“I’ll show you that you’re crazy to think that.” He reaches over and puts his hand on my cheek. “I don’t tell just anyone I love them, you know.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Just the girls who I want to stick around. Now get up off this bed and take your clothes off before something bad happens.”
I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling too hard. “Something bad? Like what?”
He growls and rolls on top of me. I scream out a laugh that comes from the deepest part of me and wrap my arms around him. I’m going to drown in whatever he’s offering me tonight and wake up tomorrow in his arms. I’ve made my decision. He might have come to me as a wrong number, but he is most definitely the right guy.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elle Casey, a former attorney and teacher, is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling American author who lives in Southern France with her husband, three kids, and a number of furry friends. She has written books in several genres and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.