Kissing Princeton Charming
His eyes are bright, like he sees something he likes, something he wants. It takes me a moment to realize that thing is me.
His hand cups my cheek. “You are an enigma, Charlie Hayes.”
I draw in a tight breath. “And you are very smooth.”
Wait, how does he know my last name? Or for that matter where I live. This whole thing is unnerving.
“You like smooth?” His mouth is so close. His lips practically on mine.
God, I want him. But warning bells blare in my head. I should tell him to leave. Instead, I stutter over words, “I’ve never had smooth.” It’s the truth. I’ve had boys kiss me who didn’t know what they were doing, sloppy and unremarkable. I’ve had guys kiss me who were desperate and trying way too hard.
But Spencer Beckett is neither a high school boy nor a clingy college guy. He is something else entirely. He knows what to do as he lifts my chin ever so slightly. As he licks his lips, tempting me to lick my own. His eyes search mine and for a moment I feel found — or at least seen.
“You said yes before,” he rasps, blue eyes searching mine.
I whimper, “I…”
“I’m going to kiss you now, Charlie.” His head lowers, and his lips brush against mine before I have a chance to change my mind.
One kiss and I know I’m in trouble.
One taste and I know my resolve is gone.
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