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“It’s something to every responsible male out there. Pray tell, young journalist, what is this column about?”
Sophia didn’t write columns, and we both knew it. She was a hard-hitting, up-and-coming woman who had exposed a drug trafficking ring a few months before, but she was playing into the ruse for some reason.
“It’s about pleasure,” she said, looking me right in eyes.
Well, I’ll be damned. The tension in the air arced between us, igniting the need caused by months of abstinence in my veins. Instantly, my cock was hard and was begging me to explore this pleasure column thing that both of us knew was bullshit.
“Okay, tell me more. What kind of pleasure?” What the fuck was I doing asking her that? I was digging my own goddamn grave at this rate.
Death by horniness. What a slogan for a gravestone. I needed to find a wet, willing pussy to bury myself in. As soon as fucking possible. One that didn’t belong to Sophia Love.
“Every kind,” Sophia said vaguely, spotting my plate still on the counter. “Crap, I guess I didn’t see that one.”
“You wouldn’t have, since you haven’t really been looking at me,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes and reached for the plate at the same time I did. I didn’t need her waiting on me. I was perfectly capable of washing my own plate. The fork clattered to the floor from both of us tugging on the plate.
Jumping from the stool, I bent to retrieve it, but so did Sophia. Our fingers brushed when they touched the fork, and her eyes snapped to mine. Our gazes met and locked.
Her breath caught, and her lips parted, drawing my attention to them. They looked soft, inviting. She inched forward, her pupils dilating and breaths quickening.
I was thrown into some kind of trance. Drawn in by those red lips, enslaved by the sound of her heavy breaths.
Before I could stop myself or even think about what I was doing, I closed the distance between our mouths, claiming her lips with mine, kissing her for one insanely idiotic moment of time.
I pulled away almost immediately, muttering softly as I came to my senses. “What the hell?”
Sophia looked at me like I’d burnt her, pushing to her feet and fleeing to her room. The door slammed shut not a second later.
What the fuck just happened? I sure as shit didn’t know.
Mark strode into the kitchen just when I’d risen to my feet. “Ready to go, Brett? The traffic to iFly is gonna be a bitch if we don’t get going.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, my mind still racing and my dick still throbbing from what had to be one of the most charged, albeit brief, kisses of my life.
Mark and I were going indoor skydiving, and I was super happy that we hadn’t opted for actual skydiving. I wouldn’t have survived it in the frame of mind I was stuck in.
Mark chatted all the way there, but I was having a hard time concentrating. I was actually having a hard time all around. Being with Mark was hard, not thinking
about Sophia and that fucking kiss was hard, and my dick was seconds away from getting hard at any given time because I couldn’t not think about it.
I lost count of the amount of times Mark asked me what was wrong, but my answer was the same each time. “It’s nothing, bro. Just tired.”
The irony of my answer wasn’t lost on me.
Chapter Four
Sophia
Twenty-four hours had gone by, and my mind was still spinning from that kiss. The electric, awe-inspiring kiss that had tilted my world on its axis and confirmed what I’d already known to be true. Brett Kelly was my dirty dream come true.
Mondays always sucked, but this one sucked harder than all the rest combined. I was getting nothing done. With an inbox full of leads to follow, I was remarkably unproductive. The newsroom chatter filled my ears, but it wasn’t interesting enough to distract me.
For the first time ever.
The clamoring of keyboards didn’t have me wanting to rush over and find out what my colleagues were so diligently working on. Another first.
I was the first to admit that I suffered from a serious case of FOMO, fear of missing out on something interesting going on around me. But what I was missing out on in the real world was nothing compared to missing out on the memories of Brett’s lips against mine.
