Kiss A Ginger Day: Chapter 6

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Theodore did not believe in cosmic signs, fate or soul mate crap. What he believed was a certain part of his anatomy would explode before the end of the day if he didn’t handle it. Or if Alice didn’t handle him.

But they’d agreed. They’d wait. Then why were they standing outside her apartment door just staring at one another, neither making the move to separate. He should go back to his hotel and she should get on with her weekend.

Finally, she hitched a thumb toward her door. “This is me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t believe in signs by the way,” she blurted, then captured her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Me, either.”

She got out her keys. “Okay. Then, have a great weekend.”

“Maybe.” A petulant child tone laced his voice. Bloody great.

She cocked her head. “No plans? No interviews? No, of course not. It’s late on a Friday.” Her bottom lip would be bruised to hell in minutes by the way her teeth kept grasping it. It made him want to reach out, cup her face, rescue it. Then devour her mouth with his own.

“No interviews,” he said. “Technically, they don’t start until Monday.”

Her chin jutted upward. “Oh? So, you’re not really starting until next week?” She leaned back against her front door, put her hands behind her to cushion her back. It only made her breast jut forward. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was trying to seduce him. But she had no idea how sexy she was.

He scrubbed his hair as if that might bring blood back to his brain so he could think. It was hard to do around Alice looking so delectable with glistening lips. “Didn’t have any interviews set up for today. Except you, of course.”

“Technically, we haven’t had ours yet. It wasn’t in the office.” She rolled her lips between her teeth—again.

God, he wanted to kiss her. “Then we’ll have a do-over next week. When I’m officially–”

She threw her arms around him, mashed her body against him. “That means…” Then her lips were on his. Ffyc him, she truly was spectacular at the kissing thing.

When she broke the lip lock, her lashes fluttered as if she surprised herself. When she tried to remove her arms, he grabbed them, made her stay. “You believe in technicalities.”

She nodded. “Details matter.”

“Today was an introduction day. I officially begin on Monday. Says the contract anyway.”

She must have liked that answer because her mouth was assaulting his again. His aching cock found the space between her legs where he would stay all weekend if she’d let him. His mind couldn’t figure out how their fit happened, except Alice had semi-climbed up on him. Or maybe he’d lifted her up. His hands now clutched her bottom, held her against him.

Who cared how they’d connected their bodies together like two interlocking puzzle pieces. His hands, his mouth were full of her. And she clung to him with a physical desperation he’d never quite experienced. It egged him on.

“Keys,” he growled into her mouth. They had to get inside or nailing her against the wall in her apartment building’s hallway was a genuine possibility. He’d never in his life needed to be inside a woman like this one.

She wrenched herself free, twisted toward her door. His body stayed pressed against hers, his breath coming out in puffs against her hair.

She got the door open, and he pushed her inside. She spun back into his arms, and he lifted her up so his cock could get back to its new favorite spot—right between her legs.

“Okay, the weekend. That’s it,” she said into his mouth killing his buzz immediately.

He put some distance between his face and her devil-blessed lips. “Oh?”

She pouted. It was a familiar move, one that woke him up a bit. He recognized it from his ex-girlfriend-now-wife-of-his-ex-best-mate. He shook it off, but dropped his hold on her.

“But then again, this weekend has Make Your Dreams Come True Day,” he said.

A little giggle erupted from her throat. “What else does it have?”

“National Hot Pastrami Sandwich Day and Take a Missionary to Lunch Day.”

“Missionary is my least favorite.”

There was no mistaking her meaning. As for her declaration, they only had the weekend and then it was likely back to business, he could play. “What’s your favorite position?”

She didn’t hesitate. “All the others.”

He ran a finger over his lips. “Could take all weekend.”

“Have something better to do?” She took two steps backward, dropped her coat to the floor.

“Better than making your dreams come true? I live for it.”

“Or I make yours…”

The woman had confidence. He liked it.

He stalked forward, and she backed up the short hallway to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her shirt. “I mean since we’re not officially in a business thing….yet.”

They’d agreed to wait. Not get into anything physical before National Bae Day three months from now. Yeah, as if they’d had a hell’s chance of sticking to that delay.

Alice was committed to her career, yes. But she also deserved to have a life. So far from what he’d seen, she spent too much of it working. He travelled alone enough to realize connecting with people was far more important than a job.

He followed her lead, first draping his jacket across the back of an old wingback chair. Then, yanked his tie free from his neck.

He, too, deserved something good when it was presented. He stalked forward.

The zing of Theodore’s tie through his collar sent a cascade of sensation up Alice’s legs, which had begun to quake a bit. So much for her conviction of waiting. They were going to do this, weren’t they?

Just inside her bedroom door he stopped, their faces just inches apart.

His presence filled up the room stealing all the oxygen. “You feel this, don’t you?” His fingers circled her wrist, brought her hand up to his chest. He placed her palm against his heart. “What’s between us?”


Alice nodded. Their chemistry was undeniable.

She should stop this—should being the operative word. But the warmth and hard muscle under her palm arose a deep arousal inside her.

“From the first time I saw you across that bar, you got me hard,” he said.

Jesus. For a man who’d memorized made-up holidays like National Bobblehead Day and Museum Selfie Day, he knew how to turn the goofball off—and turn on the seduction.

She should probably play hard to get. Make him work for it a bit more. But she couldn’t conjure up any enthusiasm for games, not when he was being so honest himself.

“This won’t impact my performance review, right?” She pulled her hand free, backed further into her bedroom, the blinds still pulled down. It didn’t matter. It may be only 4:30 p.m. but winter’s early darkness was descending outside already.

He closed the distance between them again, cupped her face. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize your career.” He brushed hair off her face, the move such a dichotomy to their conversation, her brain scrambled. Or maybe it was because his hands kept touching her, caressing her like stoking a low-burning fire.

He set his forehead against her. “Trust me. My career is in your hands, too.”

That evened things out, right? What they were about to do wasn’t so bad then.

She snuck a peek down at his crotch. Theodore Gaston, the fourth, would be… what in bed? She really wanted to know. So far, he had the touching thing down pat.

“I like your hands,” she said.

“They like you.” It didn’t take long for him to have her backed up against her bed, sheets still in a tangled mess from the night before.

His gaze dropped to her breasts, now free of the blouse. Thank God, she’d worn one of her laciest bras. This morning, hungover and in a hurry to get to work, she’d grabbed one from the back of the drawer since all her every day ones were in the laundry.

“Now…” his hands drifted down her arms and to her back. He released her bra, and it slipped down between them. “… let me appreciate your assets.”

His hands moved to her breasts. Keeping his gaze on her face, he cupped them, thumbed her nipples. She sucked in a breath. One little move had her entire body ready, willing and able to have him do whatever he wanted.

She reached for his belt buckle, which earned a half smile from him. After shedding the rest of their clothes, he pressed himself against her, his lips dusting across hers. She fell back on the bed, and he immediately covered her. His mouth fell to her breast. He tenderly sucked on one nipple, then moved to the next. “Mmm, assets indeed.”

While he feasted on her, she ran her fingers through his red-gold hair, soft and silky. He had good hair. Patty would be proud, though no way would she let her friend near his head. My, how easily she’d begun to feel possessive of him.

His gaze flicked up for one second. “January 2. National Breast Appreciation Day. As if I’d wait for that day to come around again after tasting…” his gaze again dropped to her breast. “… these.”

She giggled.

He moved up her clavicle, nibbling his way up to her ear. “Alice. Touch me.” He leaned on one elbow, grabbed her hand and brought it down to his… Sweet Jesus on high. Her fingers curled around him. She was about to have the greatest sex of her life, wasn’t she?

He let out a long hiss as her fingers moved. “So all the positions, huh?”

She nodded, speech abandoning her long ago.

“Then hang on.” He circled his arm around her back, rolled, and pulled her on top of him. His cock was now trapped between her belly and him. “I rather love this one. Gives me access to your…” his hands cupped her breasts again. “… spectacular breasts.”

She rose, straddled him. “No more talking.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Bossy.”


His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing. “Even better.” He grasped her hips, positioned her, and she sunk down on him. All the air in her lungs escaped, and a satisfying moan came from his throat. “Ffyc me, you’re so hot and tight.”

He was big, and she could feel him fill every inch deep inside her body. She pitched her hips forward, seeking the best spot. His torso contracted and he grunted. She did it again. And again. And every time, his nostril flared, his lids dropping.

He grasped her rib cage, pulled her down toward him so their faces were inches apart. “I need your mouth when you ride me.”

So she obliged. Kissed him hard and deep while her hips circled and pitched into him until they panted like animals in heat. His tongue kept sliding into hers just at the right time and she sucked on it. Needing more. Always more.

She normally wasn’t a rough and tumble girl, but with Theodore, she wanted to devour her—and have him to do the same to her. Any thought of what they were doing, what they should do or not do was as distant as China.

The slap of flesh and moans filled the room, and she was sure her bed was moving so much she was destroying the wall behind it. As if that would make her stop. He felt too good.

He moved from her kissing her mouth to her breasts and back to her mouth again so many times, her entire body was on fire—a bonfire.

“Alice,” he hissed. “Clench hard around my cock. That’s right, baby. So damned good.” So much for the cliched English uptight mannerisms. The man had no inhibitions.

But she did it. Again and again, she gripped him with her insides. Each time, he responded. She could grow addicted to that—the power that comes from making a man come undone.

Just the thought of it rose new sensation, and she was suddenly coming—hard. As she was coming down, she felt him twitch inside her, his own release on its heels.

She fell to his chest, lay there as his rib cage expanded with each lungful of air, making her rise and fall on him.

After his breath steadied, his arms wrapped around her. He murmured into her hair. “You’re an animal in bed, Alice Crawford.”

She didn’t know why she found that funny. Her laughter couldn’t be stopped, however. She? An animal?

“Oh, yeah, I’m an insatiable sex pot,” she said through her giggles and lifted her head to stare at him.

“Lucky me.” He put one of his arms behind his head. His hair was a tousled mess and adorable. His hand reached out, ran his fingers across her chin. “You got some stashe rash from my beard.”

She ran her palm over his significant five o’clock shadow. It looked good on him. Like a rugged highlander. Like a Jaime Fraser. “Worth it.”

“Wait ‘til it all over your thighs. Then it’ll be worth it.” He rolled her off him, settled onto his side. “How much time do you need?”


His fingers drifted down her bare hip, dipped in between her legs. “Just getting started, love.”

Theodore Gaston, the fourth, was a God.

Click here for Chapter 7.