Strawberry Kisses Phavy Prieto (bookstand for reading TXT) 📖

"Yeah, you are convinced that a mother is going to fall for it, like in the commercial of croquettes that look homemade but instead they are frozen for a gazillion months," I answered walking towards the kitchen. "Do you have a hammer? I think that if we break the oven and the stove we will have an excuse."

At that moment I lifted my leg as if to give him a kick and felt two arms catch me and lift me in the air.

"Stop!" he ordered laughing. "I will hire a chef to come and cook at home and leave before my mother arrives. Does this seem a good solution to you?" he said brushing my ear with his nose and I shivered to the point that I forgot what he had just said.

"Sure," I whispered agreeing with him like a fool, because I could only think of those hands clinging tightly to my waist that moved slowly upwards.

"Superb. Then it's all cleared up," he murmured so close that I felt his lips brushing my neck. His hands made me turn quickly and I looked directly into his eyes, surprisingly dark with desire that accompanied the force transmitted by every feature of his face, as manly as his essence. "If I kiss you right now, I'm not sure we'll be on time for the concert, because I would drag you to my bed and hold you there until tomorrow. You choose. Do you want me to kiss you?"

Goodbye, panties! Bye-bye, we'll never see each other again.

From his tone I knew he wasn't joking. I could feel the fire transpire from the pores of his skin that warmed my body so close to his. I wasn’t sure that I could control myself and that I could escape from perdition that he was promising. Not even all the chocolate in the world could distract me from what I felt for Damian. He could also make me forget about my favourite band’s concert for which I had endured that hellish torment with Steven. He managed to make everything else insignificant. And that feeling terrified me.

I had crushes on a lot of boys before. In fact, I had often let myself get involved more than I wanted, but never to the point of giving up everything for any of them.

"I forbid you to kiss me," I said, closing my eyes before even thinking of what I had just said out loud.

I didn't want to admit that feeling to myself. If I did it, it would have been really disturbing, keeping in mind the end already written by Damian himself. I was not his girlfriend, let alone his fiancée. I was one of the employees of a certain rank who worked for his company. And that was the end of the story. Even if it was clear that there was certain chemistry and we had a lot of fun in bed, I had to be realistic: I was not the type of woman who could suit someone like him. I was only the list freak, the accounts fanatic, and the black planner weirdo who needed to control everything.

When I opened my eyes, I unexpectedly found a sweet smile drawn on his face. I would expect a reaction of amazement or anger from him for having broken the passion of the moment. Instead Adonis seemed to take my answer very well. I wondered if he did it because deep down he really needed me. Come what may, I could not help but focus my gaze on those lips that lusted to be kissed. Did I seriously forbid him to kiss me?

Shit! I want to rectify, I want to rectify, I want to rectify! To hell with everything! I'm dying for a kiss from him! I am not even able to understand myself.

We went to the concert by his car. Although he asked me how my week at work had gone just to have a neutral topic for conversation, I couldn't relax after what had happened in his apartment.

Would he really never kiss me again? The truth was that I didn’t know whether I wanted to know the answer.

I had to admit that despite having dreamt dozens of times of going to a concert of those four men with masterful angelic voices, I never thought I would feel so much tension just because there was a man at my side capable of making me nervous, restless and excited at the same time. Even in that theater, where the acoustics made the music resonate in such an involving way, I was unable to relax because I could not stop thinking about what could happen that night or the next night or the one after. I was about to go and live in the apartment of a man from the cover of Men's Health. It was as if any woman's dreams were about to become true: he was handsome, rich, with a smile from a toothpaste commercial, he was also nice but as tough as an expired nougat.

"You've been quieter than usual," he said as soon as we got back into the car. "I thought you would be the type of person who screams like a teenager at a concert. I was even mentally prepared for it."

"Oh, please!" I exclaimed as if that was the last thing I would do in the world. Deep down, I perfectly knew that if Damian hadn't been with me, I would have done exactly what half the girls at the concert did. "Just because they're four handsome and attractive men with outstanding voices, I'm not going to..."

My speech was interrupted by his thunderous laughter. Was it me or was this guy making fun of me?

We both fastened our seat belt.

"What’s so funny?" I asked annoyed.

"That you deny that you were dying to scream at the concert.