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She chuckles. It’s a breathless sound, and something about it, about Sophia unbound like this, makes my chest ache. Her bedroom is only a few strides away. It would be easy, so damnably easy, to ruin it all.
“Well, you bought me ramen,” she says, and kisses me. Her arms tighten around my neck, and the edge of the counter digs into my lower stomach, and I yearn to be closer still. Her mouth is warm, and familiar, and fuck if I don’t want to do all kinds of things I know I shouldn’t. My fingers inch the skirt upwards, sweeping across the smooth skin of her thighs.
But then I encounter tight fabric.
I look down. “You have shorts on?”
“Yes,” she says with a little laugh. “They’re built-ins.”
“Clever,” I say, and wrap my hands around the outside of her thighs, mini-shorts and all. “Did you see us doing this?”
“Definitely not.” She braces her knees on either side of my hips. With her hair up, there’s nothing to distract from the beauty of her features. I can’t look away from the freckles and the fierce eyes and the soft mouth. “Not complaining about it though,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “High praise.”
She chuckles. “I’ve never been very good at giving praise. I’m much better at constructive criticism.”
“Really?” I say. Conversation is good—conversation distracts. “The members of your team must love you as a boss.”
She knees my side. “Hey, I make a point to only work with people wholikeclear communication.”
“You’ll have to tell me where you find them,” I say.
Her hand slips beneath the collar of my shirt, and warm fingers brush over my shoulder. “Well, I have two team members. How many employees do you have?”
“Don’t know the latest count.” I rest my head against her neck and take a deep breath. “Sophia…”
“You think too much,” she murmurs. “We both do.”
“I’m not thinking at all right now,” I say, and kiss her again. It’s deeper this time, longer, and I sink into her loveliness. I slide one of her sleeves off her shoulder, revealing tan skin and the harsh line of a sports bra strap. The elastic looks almost bruising.
“Wow. You’re very…”
“Locked in?” she says with a smile. “I know. I dressed to win.”
“And win you did,” I murmur. Her skin beneath my hands is a live wire I can’t stop touching, electrifying my entire body.
“Come,” she says, and slides off the kitchen counter. Hips to hips, and chest to chest.
“Come where?”
“We should shower,” she says, and backs away from me. There’s a crooked smile on her face that speaks of recklessness and confidence, of pleasure to come and intimacies to be shared.
I close my eyes. “Sophia,” I mutter.
But she reaches for the hem of her skirt anyway.
15
SOPHIA
I drop my skirt and tank top to the floor.
“Sophia,” he says. There’s a pained expression on his face. “Please don’t.”
I watch him across my living room. Recklessness and something else, something wild, claws beneath my breastbone. “And why not?”
“You know why not.” He’s not looking at me, like my sports bra and bare stomach is as dangerous as Medusa. His face looks carved in stern lines.
