He didn’t know if he wanted to slap her... or kiss her.
He didn’t know if he wanted to slap her … or kiss her
The first time I met her I wanted to slap her.
The second time, I knew I had to have her.
As for the third time, a gentleman doesn’t tell.
So I guess it’s a good thing I’m no gentleman … right?
Let’s get this out of the way, right off the bat: I love women.
I love the way they look. The way they smell. The way they feel. Especially the way they feel. And I’ve pretty much made it my mission to give each and every woman who shares my bed the ride of her life.
Then I met her. Bitchy as hell and completely uninterested in me. And damned if I didn’t want her. Crave her. I told myself I only wanted to tame her. That it was all about the challenge.
I never expected to break through that ice queen exterior and find the softness underneath. Never expected how wild she’d be between the sheets or the way she’d cry my name with such sincere intensity when
I totally rocked her world.
Most of all, I never expected to fall for her.
But I did.
And the question is, now that I know I want her, how the hell do I go about keeping her?