Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

His gaze drops to my mouth. He sinks his teeth into his full
lower lip.
In a wave, heat rushes up my neck to my ears where it
settles, throbbing.
I grab the champagne bottle and attempt to pour
champagne into my glass. My hands are shaking so badly,
however, it spills down the sides of the flute and onto the
tablecloth.
Kage removes the bottle from my hand, takes the glass,
and finishes pouring, all the while wearing an expression very
close to a smirk.
It’s not a real smirk, mind you, because that would require
smiling.
He hands me the champagne flute. I say breathlessly,
“Thank you,” and toss it back.
When I set the empty glass back on the table, he turns
businesslike. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start
over.”
Oh, look, he’s being reasonable. I wonder which
personality this is?
He sticks out his baseball mitt of a hand. “Hi. I’m Kage.
Nice to meet you.”
Feeling like I’m in an alternate universe, I slip my hand
into his, then doubt I’ll ever get it back because it’s lost
somewhere inside his warm, rough, gargantuan palm.
What would it be like to have those hands on my naked
body?
“Kage?” I repeat faintly, struck by the vivid mental image
of him running his huge hands all over my naked flesh. I flush
all the way down to my toes. “Is that your first name or your
last name?”
“Both.”
“Of course it is. Hi, Kage. I’m Natalie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Natalie. May I call you Nat?”