“Okay, well, I’ll just get to it then,” Royce interrupts. Kat startles and I internally curse becausedammit, this has to stop.“Kat, text me when your post is ready.”
“Sure thing,” she squeaks just before he ends the call.
Tension is still thick between us, the pull I feel toward her absolutely maddening. I’m more than a decade older than she is but that doesn’t seem to matter.
I want her.
And that can’t happen…for my sake and hers.
“Pizza?”
“And breadsticks.” At my quirked eyebrow she adds, “What? I like to celebrate with carbs.”
“As you wish, Miss Harrington.”
27
KAT
BAILEY: Your social media is INSANE RIGHT NOW
KAT: I’m not looking
BAILEY: Girl…
“You’re not supposed to be on that,” Tom murmurs, his eyes on the TV while my feet rest in his lap. I’m not sure how that happened but I’m not complaining.
At all.
One minute he’s all gruff and standoffish and the next he has one of his huge hands gently gripping my ankle as we watch a movie.
“It’s just Bailey.”
“You had a good day, and Royce has been sending you the highlights.” The statement isn’t appeasing; it’s more in line withthings are going well so don’t push it.
But I’m not always good at following directions.
I know by the growing number of notifications that my post has whipped up a frenzy of attention, andI just want to know what’s happening.
The unedited version.
Not the play-by-play.
“But this is thelastbook in the trilogy. The second book ended on aseriouscliff-hanger, and readers are going to be ravenous. Their excitement is the elixir of life, the balm to my battered soul, the?—”
“I got it,” he says, amusement in his tone, his thumb brushing back and forth across my calf. Even through the blanket I canfeelthe heat of his touch and I want it everywhere.
I wanthimeverywhere.
I’m either going to have to make a move or write him into my next hero so I can live vicariously through my heroine’s fictional orgasms. The thought is playing on a loop in my mind as Tom eases himself up from the couch, his footsteps echoing quietly through the kitchen as my screen lights up again.
BAILEY: How are you holding up?
KAT: I’m good. The awards ceremony is less than two weeks away. It’s black-tie so I’m going to have to find a dress for that
BAILEY: Ooo, take me with you!
“You’re not supposedto be on that,” Tom reiterates, but instead of just letting it go, he reaches over and plucks the phone from my hand and tosses it onto the coffee table.
