From Air (Wildfire, #1)

by Jewel E. Ann

“Calvin Fitzgerald, if you think for a single minute that you can make me go weak in the knees and manipulate me into forgetting about what you did and what you have coming, then you are delusional.” Walk away. Nope. I can’t. Instead, I grin, but I don’t speak. I step closer to her, but I don’t touch her. Her chin inches upward in defiance. “If you’re so immune to me, so steady in the knees, then why did you moan when I sucked your finger?” Her nose wrinkles. “I did not.” “You did.” Just when I think I have her, she takes the last step between us and uses the same finger I sucked to jab into my chest, reminiscent of the thing that started all this. “If I made a noise, it was a groan, not a moan.” “Is there a difference?” “Yes. A moan indicates pleasure. A groan indicates distress or suffering. Fitz, you could never make me moan.” “You blushed.” She shakes her head. “It was anger . . . distress and suffering. You can suck all of my fingers and all ten toes if that’s what does it for you, but it won’t ever make me weak in the knees.” “I bet there’s somewhere I could put my mouth that would make you weak in the knees.” Why THE FUCK did I say that? A plume of embarrassment spreads from her neck to the tips of her ears. Oh, yeah. That’s why I said it. “Look.” I run my knuckles along her neck, and she shudders. Although I’m sure it’s a frightened shiver. “You’re red again. I’d better leave you alone before you get any more hot and bothered. I mean . . . angry and distressed.”