The Million Dollar Virgin

Chapter Four - Stevie

Stevie had heard the expression toe-curling. She knew it applied to kissing. But somewhere in her head, she'd always somehow associated it with a house being dropped on a witch. This, though...this was something different. Definitely toe-curling. And so far from houses and witches that it wasn't even funny.

Up, up went the curl. Dragging her toes to her feet, tightening the space between her ankles and her calves. Tickling behind her knees and warming her thighs and hips, then spreading to her stomach, where it tightened and tightened and made her want to push herself straight into those extra-tight jeans of his. And maybe she even did it a little. Because she could very definitely feel that special something under his jeans.

Break this off, she ordered herself.

Instead, her arms came up to snake around his neck. He was tall. Even broader than he looked, too. Stevie held on tightly, and as one of his hands slipped to her knee and drew it up, a little moan escaped from between their sealed lips. She couldn't even tell if it came from her own mouth, or it came from hers. And if she was being honest...she didn't care. Not about anything. Well. Anything except the way his mouth consumed her. And he hadn't even moved on to tongue. Just lips and nips and delicious inhales and exhales.

What would it be like, if he did add tongue? Stevie wondered.

Actually, if she was being honest (again) she only tried to wonder. Her real thoughts went something more nonsensical. Like, Hnmpohjkinph.

And when he pulled away, and it should've gotten better, it got worse instead. Because it was a slow, delicate detangle. Punctuated by his mouth on her mouth, then on her cheeks and chin and throat.

Yeah, definitely, Hnmpohjkinph.

"Tell me something, sweetpea," he said against her lip, his voice a thick rumble.

"Okay."

"Do you still believe you don't have a commitment issue?"

Her eyes opened wide. "Excuse me?"

"The contract requires a marriage of a minimum of two years."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought you said marriage was for a lifetime."

"I did. It is. I believe that. But the terms of Marrying For Money are very...modern. You live under the microscope for three months. You set a date, no more than a year away. You say the vows and you agree to stay married for a minimum of two years. With a few caveats, of course. You do get a weekly allowance, but until that two years is up, the million dollars just sits in a trust. That's a good three years of fidelity." He blew out a cloud of smoke. "And in case you need to be reminded...you haven't even signed the contract and you're already kissing someone else."

"You kissed me."

"You let me."

She resisted an urge to stomp her foot like a petulant six-year old. And engaged in a staring contest instead. Like a six-year old. But she was sure she won, because he looked away first, even if it was just to reach to grab his discarded cigarette butt so he could stick it in his pocket.

Stevie stared at him at little more, thinking how odd it was that his mouth really should've tasted like an ashtray, but hadn't at all. His mouth...god. She really needed not think about it.

"You know how gross that is, right?" she asked.

"Better than throwing the butt on the ground."

"The smoking itself is what's gross."