“I hate you.”
He backed away, shoved his hands into her hair and hit her with a wicked, vagina melting grin. “My dick doesn’t care. Not sure the rest of me does either.”
The evidence of that was obvious from the bulge against her tummy. Caroline jumped back, her breaths coming fast and hard and—yowzer—it was like being let out of sexual prison. Freed from a lifetime of boring men who couldn’t figure out how to crack the Caroline-needs-an-orgasm code.
“Stop!” she yelled. “It’s too much.” She paddled her hands. “It’s like…like...I don’t know. But it’s too much. You’ve been gone too long and this isn’t what we should be doing now. Right? I mean, we’re professionals. You’re a fugitive. You could go to prison and then what? Conjugal visits once a month?”
Mitch’s lips quirked. “Only if you marry me. I don’t put out for free.”
“Marry you? I want to dismember you!”