Page 53 of Diego

Her gaze drops to my mouth for half a second.

That is enough.

I tip my glass so the rest of the wine pours into my mouth before setting it down and standing.

Watching me carefully, she does the same.

I lift one hand and brush a strand of black hair back from her face.

She looks up at me.

“Still think I flirt with everyone?”

Her smile is faint now. “Ask me again later.”

I laugh under my breath.

Then I kiss her.

Chapter Twelve

Blair

One of us makes a sound.

It might be me.

His mouth is warm, and he tastes like wine, and for half a second, I have this very clear, very stupid thought that this is exactly what I expected and also absolutely nothing like it.

I told him this was a bad idea.

It is.

His other hand comes to my waist, pulling me closer, and my own hands find his shoulders without me thinking about it. He fits against me in a way that makes all the warnings in my head seem distant and unimportant, and the kiss deepens before I can talk myself out of it.

He tilts his head, changing the angle, and I lose whatever thread of self-control I still have.

Oh my god. He's very good at this. I am in so much trouble.

His thumb brushes my jaw, and I lean into it, tilting my own head to give him better access, and I am completely gone. This is no longer my brain. My brain is currently screaming at me, but the rest of my body has staged a mutiny and is having a much, much better time.

He parts my lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. I moan against him, a tiny, helpless sound that I can't hold back.

It is definitely not professional.

Diego’s mouth curves against mine, and for a dizzying moment, I wonder if my brain is leaking out of my ears. There is no other explanation for this. I am going to walk out of this penthouse a drooling idiot with no memory of how to do my job, and it will be entirely his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s so successful in business. He distracts his opponents until they can’t remember their own names.

I press closer, and his arm tightens around my waist. His other hand slides into my hair, fingers curling gently at the nape of my neck, and I forget what we were talking about before.

Something about this being a bad idea.

Right.

It is the worst idea I have had all week.

But it's so damn good, I think, as his tongue dances with mine, teases me, and then retreats. A little moan escapes my throat again.