Page 18 of Silver Fox Grump

“I’m looking at your lips because I want them crushed to mine,” I say hoarsely.

“Should I look at your lips too?” she asks, a little shy.

“You can.”

Seeing her eyeline drop sends a surge of anticipation through me. As though she craves this as much as I do.

It’s just a lesson, I remind myself.

“The tension that is undeniable,” I whisper. “Feel how inevitable it is that we’re going to give in to the scorching attraction between us.”

Nathan answers the phone on the other side of the door, muffled and indistinct.

“Can you feel how the taboo makes it hotter? The sounds of Nathan just a layer of wood away, and the risk of getting caught?”

“Mr Blackwood,” she whispers, and leans in further, our lips only inches apart now.

Who is seducing who here?

Wait, no. I’m supposed to be teaching her.

“Do you like that I’m your boss? Does it make you feel powerful that I want you? That despite billions in the bank and a small army for the Morden mafia, I’m looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, and I’m tortured by not being able to have you?”

I don’t mention her father. That shimmers between us without words.

“Because you’re so young, Maisie. I shouldn’t kiss you.”

“You should,” she whispers back, and her breath is warm and sweet on my lips. “You can take whatever you want.”

I groan. “Don’t say that.” I don’t think I can hold it together if she says things like that. I might believe her. “Say that you’d like a kiss. Just one, to be taught.”

“Sev, kiss me. Please.”

Touching a finger to her jaw I shift closer. Her scent—raspberries and cream—fills my senses.

“I shouldn’t, Maisie. I’m twice your age. I’m your boss.”

“Please.” It’s a broken little word, and it breaks me too.

I groan and guide her mouth to mine, giving her a butterfly of a kiss. The sort of kiss that is an expression of lust and longing in the form of a carefully deniable brush that could have been an accident.

Her cheek is so soft. She’s delicate and small and I try to be exactly the sweet first kiss that she deserves. I drag my lips over hers and everything in me tightens when I hear her needy little gasp.

“What should I do?” she murmurs. “I don’t know how to do this right.”

“We should stop,” I say, but I don’t. I catch her lower lip, and venture the tip of my tongue against her lips.

“Sev,” she gasps.

“Open your mouth more,” I instruct her. “And angle your head.”

She does exactly as I say. And despite all the reasons to hurry, I tempt and lure, still holding her cheek lightly as though it’s not costing me my sanity.

“Now slowly, use the moments between my lips moving, and repeat what I do.” It’s taking everything in me to keep up the pretence that I’m her impassive teacher.

I’m not. I’m a monster.

I deepen the kiss by fractions, drawing her in bit by bit. And she responds with all the innocent understanding of the girl meant to learn from me. She’s a quick study, turning my tricks on me and nipping at my lower lip when I allow a tiny break in my domination of the kiss.