The Unlikely Fiance

Chapter 5

CLARISSA COULDN'T move away from Nicholas even if someone threw a bomb at her feet. She felt his tongue lick away the droplet of whiskey on her lip and thought it was something out of an erotic novel. Normal people never went around licking things off other people's lips. This mysterious, brooding French man was doing exactly that. The French kissed when they greeted each other. Maybe the feeling of someone's lips or tongue on their's wasn't something to freak out about. Maybe...maybe...oh who was she kidding? This was wrong in so many levels!

So, he licked away a droplet—should she make at big deal out of it? Hell yeah!

"Mr. Renoir," she cleared her throat and looked a him steadily even though her body was hot-wired and was fizzling with excitement. "Is it your thing to go around licking strange women's lips?" a fetish perhaps. She wanted to add but quickly stepped the brakes on her tongue.

Nicholas frowned as if he too wondered the same thing. He was a very strange, hot, handsome as hell and arrogant man and all Clarissa wanted was to have him as far away from her as possible. He affected her in a very unique kind of way. Not even Julian, the man she loved for four years, affected her this way. Clarissa was very sure that Nicholas was all kinds of danger and don't-go-there. He was the kind of man who always got what he wanted. No one dared to talk down on him, say no or question his authority. She found his cool closed demeanor very obnoxious and yet it gave her freedom to be herself in front of him. He liked her loose tongue. He told her himself and that made her a little more relaxed around him...maybe a little too relaxed to the point he found himself comfortable enough to do what he did.

"Try and get up." he ignored her question as he helped her to her shaking feet.

Clarissa steadied herself, trying her best to stay as far away from him as possible. She didn't want his tongue touching any other place of her body. After all, he had that beautiful black haired woman waiting for him back at the restaurant. She looked up at him and her mouth ran dry. What could she possibly say to this forbidden fruit that would make everything alright? Don't let me go? Stay away from me?

Why did she have to knock on the window of his car that faithful evening and have him haunt her every single time? She needed to get away.

Like before, Clarissa extended out her hand like they had just finished negotiating a business deal. "Thank you, Mr. Renoir. I owe you." did I just say that? She blinked.

Nicholas' eyebrows arched up slowly as if he was relishing at the possibilities of what those last words could mean. "I always collect what is owed, Miss Langston."

Clarissa gulped down visibly as a warm hand clasped hers. "You seem like the type. Have a good night, Mr. Renoir. You don't want to keep your date waiting any longer."

A small smile touched his lips and he didn't let her hand go. "You are right...and allow me to let you on a little secret." he moved forward until his mouth was inches from hers. "I'm glad that that man is not your boyfriend. He's not your type."

Clarissa's felt a retort itching to come out of her throat. Why did he have to ruin a good moment with his arrogance? Clarissa mentally plucked at the edges of the gold star she just gave him for his first aid skills. Oh, she was tempted to pull it out. "Oh, now you think you know my type? You hardly know me, Mr. Renoir. I don't think I would want to see you again because every time I'm around you..." I can't think straight, my heart does one hundred beats per second and I get very hot and needy. "...I get very upset."

A frown appeared on his face. "Oh."

Crap!

Clarissa's fingers itched to smooth the lines on his forehead but why would she want to do that? He is not your man. She curled her hands into tight fists and brushed past him. "Good night, Mr. Renoir."