Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kylie
Christian's lips graze over mine. His hand slipped around the back of my neck, his thumb caressing my jawline. His other arm slid around my back as he molds me against him. My eyes fluttered close, the feel of his lips bringing me a head rush. I don't want him to pull away, so my fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.
He didn't though.
His mouth moves ever so slightly as if he was taking his time – savoring every moment. And every brush is making my toes curl. There were flutters in my stomach and my insides were all electrified.
Christian's finger hooked my chin, lifting my face. The kiss remained slow and steady. As if he was waiting for me to get the hang of it.
Feeling bold, I rolled to my tiptoes and pressed my lips further against his.
He made a sound – a chuckle. And his mouth curved a little. "There we go," he breathes, his voice husky.
Suddenly encouraged, I wind my arms around his neck.
Christian shifted us even closer and when our mouths fused for another kiss, I followed his lead. This time his lips were insistent. But gentle all the same. His tongue nudges my lips apart and I submit eagerly.
Just when I thought the kiss wouldn't get anymore intoxicating, it did. Christian's kisses are the most wonderful things in the world. And there were fireworks tingling every fiber of my body. Never once had I felt this alive in my life.
The kiss slowly ended, and he places one more kiss on the tip of my nose.
"Better?" He whispers.
I opened my eyes and look back at his baby blue eyes, still in a daze. "What?"
"Better than when I heartlessly stole your first kiss?" He smiles softly.
My cheeks set on fire. I fumble for a clever comeback, but nothing came.
"I think I'll just assume it's a yes." He winked.
I started retrieving my arms back to my sides but he caught one of my wrists and held my hand.
"Come, let me show you around." He puts my hand firmly in his palm and leads me to the field.
The part of me that was starting to recover, protested. "Wait, Christian. Are we even allowed in here?"
He shrugged. "Maybe."
"What do you mean? We may or may not be trespassing?"
Christian gives my hand a little tug. "Live a little, Buttercup. Let's get that do-gooder shoes on the grass."
"Hey, I do live a little." I was about to protest again and tell him this is not a good idea but I saw the recollection of pride he once had for himself for when he was a soccer superstar.
