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Until now, I hadn’t had a good enough look at him, because, in these pants, I can see the outline of his dick, and it’s resting against his leg.
Does he wear underwear? Jeezus.
I am almost wet in anticipation. Scratch that. I am fucking wet from the sight of his massive bulge, which means I need to rush through this interview as fast as possible and get far away from him.
Why do his pants have to be so damn tight? And why does he have to be so fucking sexy?
I swear he did this on purpose. He wants to kill me. I might die from lack of oxygen to my brain if he doesn’t move.
When was the last time I even had sex?
The thoughts running through my mind are driving me insane. I write about sex all the time for the blog, but I have been so busy with work it must be at least six or seven months since I broke up with my ex. And now, I have some serious man candy with the stick to match, shoving his manhood in my face and loving every second.
“Could you move? Is there some reason why you are hovering over me?”
In answer, he plops down on the couch next to me, his big body taking up way too much space. He slides around to get comfortable, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, drawing my attention to every movement he makes. Tracing the lines down his arms with my eyes, I think about reaching out and doing the same thing with my finger. I bet his skin is soft, smooth. Oddly enough, I want to touch him, explore his body with my hands and mouth.
“See something you like?” He says with a hint of a smile on his lips.
“I was just thinking about something.” I try to play it off, nonchalant as if I wasn’t two seconds away from licking him.
“I’m sure you were.” He scoots closer to me, our bodies a few inches apart, the heat from his limbs making me all too aware of how close we are to one another.
Gripping the pen tighter, my hand hurts from squeezing it so hard, crushing the bones. My pain makes me more aware of my sexual desire for Tyler and how wrong it is for me to have such thoughts. I shouldn’t want him. But he makes it so damn hard when he oozes sex, shifting his weight so that his leg is propped up against the cushion, my gaze seeking out the giant cock in his pants.
If you could bottle up his sexual appeal, women could orgasm for the rest of their lives without ever needing a man. He runs a hand through his short blond hair and licks his lips. This motherfucker is trying to torture me. Someone with his looks, talent, and money has had his share of women eyeing him up, and I am no different from those women. Tyler doesn’t miss a beat, all too aware of my physical response to his closeness.
“You should take a deep breath,” he whispers against my lips, “because you look like a fucking corpse right now.”
His laughter snaps me out of my trance. Now awake from my sex daze and afraid to make direct eye contact, I squirm in my seat and flip open my notebook, needing a distraction from Tyler.
“Why don’t we start the interview? I’m sure you have other plans for today.”
“Nope. I was planning on doing you, but otherwise, my schedule is wide open.”
I keep my eyes on my book and flip through until I find a blank page. He will not deter me from my mission. I came here to get the story no one has on Tyler Kane, not hop into bed with him.
“I’m glad you don’t have a life,” I say, scribbling the date at the top of the page, “but I have things to do later, and no, they don’t involve you, in case you are wondering.”
“Damn, babe. That was harsh.”
“Don’t call me babe.” I glance up from the book for a brief second, his eyes slicing through me with one look. “You should get used to disappointment. Not everyone will hand you life on a silver platter just because you’re wealthy and famous. Sometimes, you will get a dose of reality and have to learn how to deal with it.”
He opens his legs wider as he leans in to me, the heat from his breath on my skin going straight to my core. “So, now that we established my bedroom is out of the question, how about I show you another part of the house? I have lots of rooms. We can do something in each one, and you can write a story about it.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I try to keep my shit together, forcing myself to hate him, so I don’t make the mistake of brushing my lips against his. He’s way too close to me and putting me out of my comfort zone.
“You do realize that makes you sound like a child when you ask questions like that, right? I mean, what’s next? Are you going to ask me if I want to jump on the bed with you or see your game room?”
“You are an interesting woman, Kennedy. I like you.” His fingers travel up the length of my arm as he speaks almost against my lips. “What did you want to ask me?”
My panties are soaked, dripping fucking wet. Afraid my juices might slide down my thigh any minute, I close my legs. Of course, Tyler notices and clamps his other hand down on my knee, his palm still cupping my shoulder.
“What are you doing, Tyler?” I don’t even have the willpower to move away from him.
“Giving you something to write about.” He slides the bizarre pink jacket off my shoulders, exposing my bare arms to the cold room, sending chills through me. The jacket bunches at my elbows, and instead of helping me out of it, he runs his hand across my skin and bends forward to kiss my shoulder, making his way to my neck.
My skin pricks with goose bumps, and although part of it so from the temperature inside the house, the other half is from Tyler.
