Page 75 of Break Me

After four more brutal swats, he almost lost his balance, teetering forward, which pitched us against the counter.

When my hip hit the edge, it also smacked against the wooden spoon still covered in sauce. Maybe in a comedy of errors or karma telling him to be careful around me, the movement acted like a ricochet, tossing the spoon against his face.

I jumped backward, slapping my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing. Meanwhile, it was as if karma was causing the spoon to slowly fall all the way down the front of his shirt. His gorgeous face was blotched with marinara sauce.

And given he tried to catch the wooden handle, the flat part dropped on his nicely pressed trousers. The look on his face was one of horror.

All I could do was laugh. Maybe he’d be angry with me, but I just didn’t care. I needed a good laugh.

Unable to stop myself, I rose onto my tiptoes, licking several drops from his cheek. He pulled me closer, holding both arms, his eyes darting back and forth across mine.

“You’re a mess,” I whispered.

“I have you to blame for that.”

So many aspects about the man continued to both surprise and annoy, but with spending time with him, I was becoming more fascinated by the man behind the obvious mask he was wearing. So strong.

So handsome.

So sensual.

That’s why when he wrapped his fingers around my ponytail, jerking back my head as he yanked me against the heat of his body, tiny stars floated in front of my eyes.

From excitement.

From intense desire.

He crushed his lips against mine, instantly thrusting his tongue into my mouth. The taste of wine and marinara sauce, the bite of cheese I’d enjoyed, and his incredible natural flavor mixed together in a way that made me lightheaded.

Or maybe that was because of his intense musky scent. Not just woodsy with spices and citrus, but something much darker, more dangerous.

More passionate.

I slipped one arm around his shoulder, tangling my fingers in his hair. The feel of his thick, silky strands added to the heated moment. When he pulled me tightly against him, the feel of his throbbing cock almost made me forget about dinner.

He rolled his other hand down my back, cupping and squeezing my bottom. While the spanking had been stern, the squeeze and everything else about this moment made what we were sharing that much more incredible.

And I couldn’t believe I was allowing this man to get to me. He wasn’t good for me. He wasn’t good for Emily. What if the same people who’d tried to have him killed came after my little family?

The strange heavy breathing had weighed on my mind, but only briefly. Any sick freak out there might have found my number after seeing my picture in the paper and decided to taunt me.

Wait. Was that any better?

I pushed my hand against his chest, but there was no stopping him. I’d heard about men taking what they wanted before. Alexsey took the concept to an entirely different level.

Could I lie and say I wasn’t aroused?

No. However, I tried to think rationally. I tried to break the spell.

“Mommy. Is dinner ready?”

That did it. Feeling guilty, I pushed hard against him. He didn’t fight me, but his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes allowed me to know he wasn’t finished with me yet.

“The pizza is getting ready to go into the oven, baby. Why don’t you wash your hands and it’ll just take a few minutes.” I was having so much difficulty not laughing and I could tell Alexsey was feeling the same.

At least his hand was no longer on my butt. My daughter noticed everything.

“Mommy? Is that your boyfriend?”