"I like those heels," Jameson murmured, taking my waist in his hands to turn me in a circle.
"Why?" I asked. "Because they make it easier to kiss me?"
Smirking, he lifted my chin. Only one inch, rather than the three he usually had to when I was barefoot. "I suppose that is a benefit," he said, eyebrows drawn in mock contemplation, "although I was only referring to the fact that they look good on you."
"Did I just hear a compliment? From Jameson Hawthorne?"
"Contrary to what you believe," Jameson said, grabbing my hips, "I am perfectly happy to compliment my heiress. It's just that she rarely accepts them."
I glanced down at the red heels that perfectly matched my dress. "I'll accept this one."
"Yeah?"
Closing my eyes, I lifted my lips and let Jameson take the reins.
"Would you accept another one," he asked my lips, "if I told you you were a good kisser?"
"No."
Jameson paused his kisses. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not the best kisser in this room," I admitted, pulling his head back to mine. As we kissed again, my heels didn't matter anymore; he lifted me off the ground. Grinning, I said, "And I'm okay with that."
