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LIAM: Come on. Anything you want.
I moaned, my mind immediately back in the gutter, filled with imagines of him pulling off that shirt, the way his stomach had flexed and moved as he leaned over the bed. Good God, my body had gone zero to sixty in about two seconds flat.
I crossed my legs, tightening my thighs with intention.
I was a professional, dammit.
For a few minutes, I stared at the phone, trying to decide what to do with him. Was he screwing with me? All that wordplay and physical tension, and he just backed right off. I snorted into the silence of my apartment. I was truly losing it. First I pushed the man away, and then I was sad when he did what I asked.
My phone buzzed from the couch.
LIAM: I’m playing it cool, by the way.
ASHLYN: What?
LIAM: By not bothering you. I seduced you into a crazy dry hump session in my bed, introduced you to my sister, and shared my shower with you all in a matter of hours. So I’m playing it cool.
ASHLYN: Does that actually work for you?
LIAM: You tell me.
Well, now there was no stopping the blush. Awkwardly I looked around my living room, shrugging my shoulders. This guy, he definitely had me twisted.
ASHLYN: I appreciate the effort, but now it’s weird.
LIAM: Says you.
I bit my lip, trying to stem off the smile.
ASHLYN: Fine. You could at least buy me lunch after all that.
LIAM: I see what you’re doing here. Am I getting lunch with Ashlyn Grove, marketing professional, or with Ashlyn Grove who looks absolutely killer in my sweats?
ASHLYN: Shit, Liam. You can’t just text stuff like that.
LIAM: Says who?
ASHLYN: Professional Ashlyn.
LIAM: Fine. Check your email.
_____________________
To:[emailprotected]
CC:[emailprotected]
From:[emailprotected]
Sent: April4, 2022; 2:56
Re: Professional Lunch
Ms. Grove,
I’d like to provide sustenance during our meeting this coming Monday. Please reply back with your preferences. My assistant Rose is copied.
Liam Macklen
