And then his mouth is on mine.
I expect him to pull back quickly, thinking it was clearly a mistake. Instead, his lips are soft and tender as they press against mine. Neither of us moves at first, and then, ever so slowly, he opens his mouth. And before I know it, I’m doing the same thing, and our tongues meet.
He’s kissing me.
And I’m kissing him back.
The man I despise.
The one I’m trying to write a story about.
The man who is standing at my front door and stealing my breath with his kiss.
Other than our lips, we don’t touch each other. I’m actually afraid of what would happen if we did. I’m pretty sure I would drag him inside right now. He seems to be aware of that fact, andwe wordlessly agree to keep our hands to ourselves and leave the touching to our lips.
There’s a small voice in my head screaming at me to stop. Telling me this isn’t right, that I shouldn’t be kissing this man. Telling me I should back away and forget this ever happened, or blame it on the wine. But I can’t seem to do that. My tongue doesn’t get the memo that my head is saying this is wrong. Instead, it keeps tasting him. And he keeps kissing me.
That is, until he suddenly pulls back, seeming to realize the enormity of what just happened. And before I can say a word, he’s striding back to his car and climbing inside, not even glancing back once.
And then…
He’s gone.
Taking a deep breath, I stand there, staring aimlessly at where his car was parked.
What just happened?
Do I need to stop the story now that I’m too involved?
Maybe it was the wine, and tomorrow we can pretend like nothing ever happened.
Surely that’s the smartest way to move forward.
Nodding once, I step inside and shut the door. I lift my fingers to my kiss-swollen lips, where the taste of him still lingers.
FOURTEEN
SOREN
That was clearly a mistake.
I shouldn’t have kissed her.
What possessed me to follow her to her door?
What the fuck have I done?
I don’t randomly kiss women, especially nosy ones trying to dig up dirt on me.
I pop the earbud into my ear so I can listen in on her via the bug I planted in her purse. She’s muttering something under her breath, or maybe it’s just that I can’t hear her properly. I listen a little closer, and I hear the soft sounds of moaning.
Is she…
No, she can’t be.
But there it is again… Her moan filters into my ear, spiking along my skin and straight to my cock. I close my eyes, jaw tightening. I shouldn’t react. I know better. But my body doesn’t care what I know.
“Turn the car around,” I tell the driver.
