Page 71 of The Knockout Rule

“J’ai eu un coup de foudre,” he murmured. French words, the romantic sounds perfect for Isla.

She looked at him like he was something fantastic. He could soak up that look all day.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“That I have a crush on you.” More specifically, that lightning could strike. Love at first sight, though there had been no love, let alone like, at their first meeting. Only frustration and irritation on his side. Now? There was no denying the intensity of his feelings.

She blushed and placed her hand on his arm, her eyelids falling slightly. A door down the hall slammed shut and she snatched her hand back. “That’s an awful sweater. Looks horrible on you.”

He stiffened. Then he remembered his suggestion, that they should say the opposite of what they were thinking when in public. He smirked. “I hate that birthmark on your neck.”

Her fingers drifted up to her elegant neck, feathered over the spot he loved. Her heated gaze dipped down his body. “You might want to curb your calorie intake. You’re looking flabby around the middle.”

“Your lips are too full.”

“Your intense eyes are unattractive.”

He fought a laugh. “Your soft voice grates on my nerves.”

She dragged her teeth over her enticing bottom lip. “When you speak in other languages, my eardrums hurt.”

Now all he wanted to do was whisper to her in Russian and French, tell her how much he “hated” every beautiful thing about her. “We better go before this ends in a brawl.”

“Excellent point.” She closed her door and strutted ahead of him. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you by knocking you on your ass.”

He took an eyeful of her ass from behind. “Are we picking your father up or is he meeting us?”

“He’s meeting us in the lobby. Heather’s staying on the other side of the hotel. He said he’d wait with her.”

Eric met Isla’s stride, walking with a slight distance between them. Close enough that their hands nearly brushed, the air between them moving with each swing of their arms, static charges vibrating with electricity. A delicate whiff of eucalyptus inflamed his senses.

“You smell awful,” he said.

She made that cute snorting sound. “I wish those jeans didn’t emphasize your weird thighs.”

“Weird?”

“Lumpy.”

He chuckled. “I’ll have to up my exercises.”

He pressed the elevator button. Loved feeling Isla’s teasing energy next to him, both of them amused and happy. When the doors opened and revealed a blessedly empty elevator, his playful mood morphed into hunger.

Once inside, he quickly pulled her against his body. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You look insanely sexy in that sweater.”

Unable to wait, he leaned down and kissed her. A rough press of their lips as he hauled her closer. They moaned in unison—rasping sounds of starved impatience. She gripped his biceps, kept moving her fingers, whether to feel the softness of his sweater or the muscle below, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he was thankful for his exhaustive workouts and strict diet. He fucking loved pressing his non-lumpy thigh between her legs.

The second the elevator stopped at the main floor they broke apart.

He wiped her lipstick from his lips. “Those sexy sounds you make are a real turn off.”

Cheeks red, she fixed her hair. “You definitely didn’t make me so wet I can barely walk.”

He groaned and bit the inside of his cheek. That was not a visual he could handle before a family dinner. Time for a safer topic. “Did you and Heather have fun this afternoon?”

They walked off the elevator, both adjusting their clothes, trading heated looks.