Page 29 of Saved By the CEO

I regret it the second he opens the door. Not because I feel over- or underdressed, but because of the split second his eyes leave my face and land on my chest. He doesn’t linger. He isn’t creepy about it. But that one quick glance makes something very, very clear to me.

I don’t see him in a sexual way whatsoever. And that’s a problem, because he’s supposed to be my distraction.

I need to remedy this.

We sit side by side at his breakfast bar. Soft music plays in the background, and lit candles cast dancing shadows over the walls. The lasagna is delicious, and the conversation is nice. He pours me another glass of wine, and I sip it while taking in the sparse decor.

It’s a very typical single-man-in-his-thirties apartment. A gray sectional in the living room. Framed posters hung just a little too far apart. Weird gadgets here and there.

“I decorated the place myself,” Josh says proudly when he catches me looking around.

I can tell.

“It’s nice.” I point toward a slightly droopy monstera in the corner. “I like the plant.”

Josh beams. “Thanks. I consider myself a plant daddy.”

Jesus Christ.

I take a sip of wine and change the subject. “So you’re from Colorado?”

He starts telling me about the mountains and how he practically grew up on a snowboard. The conversation drifts into sports territory, and I try my best to pivot. When we’re done eating, I suggest we move to the couch. Josh collects our plates and tells me to get comfortable.

I curl up with my wine glass and watch him move around the kitchen.

He’s objectively attractive. Tall, with nice shoulders and an even nicer smile. I let my eyes linger on his back as he loads the dishwasher. It’s a good back.

Not as good as Mr. Benn?—

Damn it.

Once he’s finished cleaning up, he joins me on the couch. He turns to face me, and I meet his eyes. They’re a nice, warm brown. Kind of like mine, actually. Is that weird? I don’t know.

I try to give him what I hope is a sultry smile and scoot a little closer. He’s wearing that cheap cologne again.

“I’m having a really nice time,” I say, lowering my voice.

His eyes drop to my mouth. “Yeah?”

I lean in.

The kiss is chaste, but nice. He has soft lips, and I don’t mind them touching mine. His hand moves to my waist, and I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s a little coarse. We kiss for a minute, maybe two, before he pulls back.

“Wow,” he breathes.

Really?

I don’t know what to say to that, so I press my lips to his one more time in a quick peck.

He holds my gaze. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I had a feeling,” I say, smiling.

He blushes. “It was obvious, wasn’t it?”

“A little.” I bump my knee against his. “It was cute.”

We share a few more kisses before I decide it’s time to head home. At the door, he tells me he wants to take me out to dinner this weekend. A real restaurant this time. I agree, because there’s no good reason not to.