Free To Hiss or to Kiss by Katya Armock

his face so close to mine that our lips are almost touching. “And yes, definitely good strange.”
    “Is your fast movement literal or figurative?” I smile wickedly, running my hands absently up and down his smooth, muscled arms, letting my fingers trail under the sleeves of his black short-sleeve button-down.
    “Hmm. I was thinking literal, but would you prefer figurative?” He raises one eyebrow.
    I’m coming to see that’s a common expression with him, and I like it. “I think you should kiss me, and we can leave the semantics aside.”
    He grins back at me. “And you said I’m a book nerd. You with your big words.”
    I swat his arm playfully. “Just kiss me already.”
    Finally he does. His hands thread into my hair again and I lean into him, circling his torso and feeling the rippling muscles in his back. I’m a sucker for a strong back.
    We leisurely explore each other, our tongues intertwined. His hands tighten in my hair until he’s tugging a little, but I don’t mind the pressure at all. I move my hands down his side, and he starts to rumble. Oh God, he’s purring again. Louder this time. That should really not turn me on as much as it does.
    Letting my worry go, I moan into his mouth as his left hand drops toward my breast. He squeezes gently and I’m a little surprised. I expected a jaguar to be rougher, especially after the hair pulling.
    As if he heard my thoughts—I know I’m not projecting—he squeezes harder. As my nipples become firm in response, I wish I were wearing fewer clothes. I’m thinking I’m the fast one, figuratively, in this relationship, but Jorge surprises me again.
    He pulls away from my mouth and asks softly, “Shall I show you my bedroom?”
    “Is this like on The Bachelor and you’re offering me the fantasy suite?”
    He chuckles. “I have no rose petals or champagne, regrettably.”
    “Not even a Jacuzzi?” I ask with mock regret.
    He shakes his head, then rises and offers me his hand. “My lady.”
    I giggle at his mock formality. “Presumptuous much? I didn’t say yes.”
    “I prefer confident. And your beautiful hazel eyes already said yes.”
    Oh, he noticed my eye color. I thaw a little more.
    “Oh, really? Maybe we should say cocky.” I do my best to imitate his raised eyebrow look, but I doubt I succeed. I’ve never been terribly good at getting just one up. But Jorge definitely seems to have no problem with getting up. I feel myself blushing again.
    “What do my eyes say, Chloe?” He is suddenly very serious, and when I look in his eyes they speak volumes. He’s both vulnerable and aroused, confident and cautious. A paradox, this jaguar man of mine. A fucking sexy paradox.
    “Take me away.” There’s only a bit of jest in my tone. I trust he can read the desire and faith in my eyes as I put my hand in his.
    He smiles, and it looks both tender and wicked, and it makes me wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.
    Something good, Chlo. Something very, very good,my heart answers before my head can start to panic again. I flash my own wicked smile as I follow, staring at his back as he strides purposefully toward the darkened hallway.
    His form disappears in the shadows, and I am reminded how dark it is in the country compared with the ever-present glow of the city. But Jorge is a cat with excellent night vision. He places his arm around me and guides me effortlessly to the bedroom. “Do you want light?”
    “It’s only fair.”
    He chuckles softly, flicking on a bedside lamp. The soft glow lights his exotic features, and I almost gasp at how beautiful he is. “I suppose so. Although you can read my thoughts.”
    “No, I can converse with you. Wanna try?” I sort of want to try and sort of want this first time to be an adventure. It’s bold of me to assume there will be more than one time with Jorge.But there is something here beyond raging hormones. If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be here right now, and I’d like to say the same is true