Kaiba didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. He didn’t even glance at you.
You let your arm fall limply to your side and turned your head to gaze at him sullenly. “See. This is what I mean.”
Mr. Kaiba seemed very set on ignoring you today. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable.
In a deliberately innocent tone, you provoked him. “Let’s take Batman, for example. He should be your role model. You’re both rather alike, actually. You’re both rich, rather intimidating when you want to be, and are reasonably handsome. The only real difference is the stunning charisma, which he has, but you unfortunately lack.”
Kaiba’s fingers paused, hovering over his keyboard. Uh oh. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“But you totally make up for it with your wonderful, um, eyes,” you said hurriedly. Nice save, nice save. Keep it going. Be smooth. “A-Anyway. He totally left Lucius Fox to run his company for him while he went traipsing around with Rachel and the Joker in a sexy cape. Why can’t you be like that?”
Okay, well, maybe Kaiba didn’t need the cape. He already looked disgustingly sexy in
The plastic clacking of keys dwindled away. You pretended not to notice and played dead, staring at the ceiling, biting down on a grin as the mattress near your knees dipped. Suddenly, Kaiba was hovering over you, the expression on his face rather intimidating.
“You’re irritating me,” he said, glaring down at you.
You smiled widely and leaned up to kiss his nose. He nearly drew back, but gravity was working against him. Gravity and your hand that was gripping the material of his shirt.
“That’s the plan.”
Kaiba growled. You knew how much he hated those kinds of kisses because they weren’t “proper kisses” — whatever that meant — and they were apparently ridiculous and much too cute for someone like Kaiba. But they always guaranteed that he show you what a “proper kiss” was, so it wasn’t like you were going to stop anytime soon. He was too easy to goad, sometimes.
His mouth pressed against yours in a rough kiss, one that expressed his annoyance and perhaps, if he allowed himself to admit it, fatigue; he had been working since he got up at four this morning. It was approaching midnight even now.
His lips lifted off yours for a moment before returning; this time, it was quieter, slower. You reached up to gently thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Your lips clung to his, almost as if reluctant to let him go, even as he moved them down your jaw line. You shivered as his warm breath ghosted over the skin of your neck and his mouth reached your ear.
His voice was a low growl, made a little husky, you were proud to admit, by your more… interesting activities.
“Stop distracting me.”