Free Persuasion Skills by Laurel Cremant

Le Pew
impersonation is wasted.” Her voice came out in a sexy rasp.
    He grinned at her telling retort. She had
said when she was ready. It was a
small victory, but a win, nonetheless.
    “Maybe,” he said, conceding her point.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to romance you, that I want you to
know how much you deserve to be wined and dined..” He shrugged his shoulders at
her.
    “And for your information, I consider
myself more of Tramp than a Le Pew.”
    “Didn’t he feed Lady spaghetti?” Her eyes
were lit with laughter, and he could see her shoulders relax.
    “Well, I can’t plan everything.”
    Her snicker filled the air.
    “Yeah, right. I take it back. You’re no
Pepe. You’ve got Johnny Bravo written all over you.” She grinned at him.
    He tilted his head back in consideration
before nodding his agreement. Lifting his arms, he began to flex as if he were
lifting weights.
    “You’re right. He was both intelligent
and handsome and sex—”
    She tossed a tomato at him before
concentrating back on her plate.
    “Don’t push your luck,” she said dryly,
her smile softening her words. “What am I going to do with you?”
    He could tell she was genuinely puzzled,
and tried to lighten the mood.
    “Well, I have a few suggestions, but
since I’m trying to be a gentleman…” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, relieved
to hear her answering snort.
    Dinner progressed with little argument
after that. Pepper gradually relaxed enough to engage in conversation and
didn’t stiffen when he grabbed her hand again. After years of obeying an
unspoken hands-off rule, he couldn’t seem to stop reaching out for her. He
loved the feel of touching her smooth, chocolate skin.
    After the meal, he was able to coax her
back over to the couch. They continued to talk as he pulled her feet to his lap
and gave her a foot rub.
    The little sounds she made drove him
crazy, and as the night progressed, he felt his self-control slipping. Her
occasional nervous glances towards the bed on the other side of the room were
the only thing keeping him in check.
    It was obvious that she was unsure of
what would happen when they made their way to bed. He had a few thoughts about
how to put her at ease and give himself some relief at the same time.
    She stifled a yawn, and he felt a wicked
grin stretch across his face.
    “I think it’s time for bed,” he said,
shifting her feet from his lap and standing up.
    She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m
really not that tired.” Her unease was clearly written on her face.
    She was so cute. He leaned down and
scooped her up and over his shoulder.
    “What the—”
    Her startled yelp was muffled by his back
as he marched over to the bathroom.
    When he reached the room, he shut the
door and placed her gently on her feet. She opened her mouth to no doubt blast
him with a round of curses when he began unbuttoning his shirt.
    “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled.
    “Getting ready for bed,” he said as he
tossed his shirt to the floor. His undershirt quickly followed, before he began
unbuckling his pants.
    She averted her gaze and shifted her feet
into a wide stance, her hands firmly planted at her hips.
    “That doesn’t explain why we’re in here
right now.”
    “I always shower before I go to sleep.”
    He pushed his jeans, boxers, and all to
the floor before stepping out of them. Her gaze drifted down his body to focus
on his groin. His dick twitched in greeting.
    She flicked her gaze quickly up to his,
and he could see the answering heat flare in her eyes. Her throat moved in an
obvious gulp, and he had to bite back a groan.
    “Since when did you need an audience to
bathe?” Her voice came out low and husky.
    He stepped towards her, and she
immediately took a step back. He continued his slow approach, crowding her into
the large walk-in shower.
    “Who said anything about an audience?” he
asked as he reached to her side and turned on the water, shielding her