“I’m not kissing you,” I say, tracing his cheek. “Besides, we've been ignoring that all day.”
His jaw sets. “You’re giving me the look.”
“I don’t know what look you mean.”
“You’re starting to look at me like I’m worth being proud of,” he says thickly. “Like I matter. It isn’t lust or admiration or calculation. It’s just… real.”
Oh shit, he’s right, deflect and distract. “That’s not fair,” I murmur. I quickly kiss his cheek before settling back on his chest. “You’ve been staring at me like that since you saw me in line.”
We lie in silence. His fingers trace my back, and his scent fills me. But his mind is on fire.
“What are you fighting right now?” I ask. He groans in defeat, rolls me onto my back, and cups my face.
“You,” he says. “I’m fighting you.”
His lips brush mine. Soft. Sweet. Then again, deeper. By the third kiss, I surrender if only for a moment. I let my armor drop and entertain the thought: what if this wasn’t a game? If we had no rules or time limit, how bad could it really be?
CHAPTER 15
Grae
Day 3
Yesterday was incredible. 10 out of 10, no notes. And it took several flirty texts, but I’ve convinced her to come over for dinner. I will wow her with my incredible full-service domestication skills, and she will be mine forever.
Out of all the places I own, I like this one the most. It’s not big and flashy like the L.A. house. It’s a two bedroom with floor to ceiling windows in a nice neighborhood. When you walk in, there’s a small foyer, and my kitchen with a breakfast bar is to the left. The rest of the space is the living area, where the couch is situated in the center of the room and facing towards the TV. My bedroom is to the right, and I turned the second bedroom into my office.
It’s cozy and has a quiet luxury. It shows I’ve done the work, and I deserve this life, but I don’t like keeping my awards on display. It’s too pretentious.
My phone rings, and I sigh. My manager is on the other end. “Hey.”
“Grae, I’ve got you an offer to work with Sunidays Strawberries.”
“The K-pop group?” Sunidays Strawberries has been on my career wish list for over three years now.
“Yeah, you need to be in Seoul in the next forty-eight hours.”
Their next album will send them into the stratosphere. We’re talking about massive international crossover appeal. But forty-eight hours will not be happening.
“Tell them I’ll be there in three weeks.” That will give me some time to woo Alana, and still do what I need to.
“What? No, it’s now or never.”
“Then it’s never or in three weeks.”
“God, why are you such a pain in my ass?”
“Because you push too hard when you shit and now you have raging hemorrhoids. Eat more fiber. Tell them my offer and get back to me.”
I hang up the phone and then text Mastodon requesting the cameras to be turned off for privacy reasons. Alana asked me if I could do that this morning when she agreed to dinner. Mastodon OKs it but wants vocal commands anyway.
The oven beeps, and I pull out the roasted veggies. I only need a few minutes to cook the steaks, and I can do that when Alana’s here. And that should happen any second now. The phone rings again, I answer the video chat.
“Hey Assbreath.”
“Fartface, how the hell are you?” I don’t think I’ve used my sister’s real name in fifteen years.
Her hair is pulled back in a slicked back ponytail. The scar on her face faded and is hidden by her make up. My stomach clenches whenever I see it. But her giant smile hides any residual trauma.
