We’d like to hire Chloe as a consultant and shoot scenes at Dog Tails. Details to come.
I turn to Sawyer, a thrill rushing through me, bubbles flowing under my skin. I wanted this so badly, I almost didn’t let myself believe it could happen. “Is this real?”
His eyes flash with a look that’s both cocky and pleased. “It’s all real, sweetheart. You did it.”
“We did it,” I correct as fireworks burst in my chest.
“We fucking did,” he adds.
“I could kiss you,” I blurt out.
His lips shift slightly, a hint of a lopsided grin. An eyebrow arches. His gaze roams up and down my body, like he’s assessing me. Or maybe the question. For a brief moment, hesitation flickers in his irises. Maybe even resistance. His jaw tightens, and he drags a hand through his hair.
I’m about to say,Just kidding, because maybe we’re both better off that way. No, we definitely are. I shouldn’t want this. I really shouldn’t.
But then he lifts a hand and curls it around the back of my neck, his strong fingers touching the strands of my hair, his warm skin meeting mine. “Do it,” he says in a command.
“Challenge accepted,” I say, then I lean closer and brush my lips to his.
18
BAD IDEAS
SAWYER
This mouth. Her scent. The sounds she makes.
They all go to my head so fast, it’s like a circuit breaker’s about to trip. Fuses are lit, and the grid’s about to overload.
All warning signs flash bright red.
And I know, I fucking know, I should stop.
Not only do we work together, we’re about to work together even more closely. Plus, she knows some serious secret shit about my charred heart thanks to our dessert contest one night in San Francisco.
But does that stop me from crushing my mouth to hers? Nope. I devour her kiss, our tongues skating together, our lips chasing the high that comes from this kind of chemistry. Chemistry that snaps, that crackles, that floods my goddamn bones.
My hand covers her cheek, my fingers brushing those strands of auburn hair that fall in soft, silky waves against me. I grip her face harder, needing to get closer and closer still.
This is a bad idea, but it has a red-hot hold of me, spurred on by that cinnamon scent of hers and the high of a deal won.
A deal wontogether.
That thought powers me on. We pulled it off in tandem. I sweep my lips across hers as my thumb strokes her jawline. She murmurs against my mouth, and I catch that sound with my lips, refusing to let go, refusing to stop kissing.
I’m driven by too much…need.
Lifting my other hand, I clasp her face, kissing her more deeply as the windows steam up and the Sam Cooke tune shifts into another one.
She reaches for my tie, tugging on it, pulling me closer. So close we knock teeth and wrench apart.
I’m breathing hard. Her eyes are wide and wild. I stare at her gorgeous face and hungry gaze as the windows fog up more. It feels like a metaphor—like the car is sayingno one can see you.Keep going.
But it’s fucking ridiculous to think the car’s a wingman. The night though? The mood? Both are complicit.
I look down at Chloe’s fingers wrapped tight around the silk of my tie, noticing her nails for the first time. Sky blue and shiny, maybe newly polished. “Nice color,” I say, glancing at them.
“Don’t even dare suggest I did it for you,” she warns, her voice husky.
