Page 36 of Every Move You Make

She kisses the way I knew she would from the moment I saw her on the sidewalk four years ago. She kisses like the woman who is unknowingly going to break my heart.

I’m going to savor this and burn it into my memory because it’s all I’m ever going to get.

Our lips push and pull against each other as her fingersdig into my pulled-back bun and she grips it. Shivers race down my spine and my cock jolts. But right when her tongue dives back in to dance with mine, her hips give a slow little thrust that has meveryaware of my growing erection. All at once, I’m bolting away and standing up to turn and tuck myself back in as discreetly as possible.

I clear my throat before turning back around and offering her a hand to stand up. “You’re uhh… you’re a very good kisser.” I stammer like a fool, barely able to make eye contact. “No notes.”

Her brows pinch. “Are you sure?”

Grabbing a medicine ball next to me, I place it in front of my crotch. “Do not change a thing,” I say before coughing and nodding toward the door. “Off you go. Great session today.”

“Are you okay?”

“Super duper!” I say, making myself cringe. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Okay,” she drawls and too slowly walks to the door. Before she leaves, she turns around. “You’re sure I’m not a bad kisser? Because you’re kind of…acting strange.”

“You’re a very good kisser,” I practically scream. “Please take my word for it! Nothing is wrong with you, and everything is wrong with those other guys, okay?”

Finally, a small smile creeps across her face. “Okay.” Mercifully, she leaves before I book it to my office to calm my boner before my next client arrives.

My next client!If I want to keep my clientele, then I need to stop acting unprofessionally. I’ve been so good at keeping my dick in my pants for the last three years. My reputation is slowly getting back to where I want it.

But damn it all to hell, deep down, I’d kiss her again if I had the chance.

As I reach my office, my phone buzzes. It’s an incoming call from my older sister Brook.Oooh, yes, the Boner Killer 2000.

“Good morning,” I say, sitting down in my chair. Like me, Brook is a morning person. At this hour, she has likely already gone on a five-mile run, showered, and made breakfast for her husband, Steven, and their five-year-old son, Liam.

She’s Type A to a T. Even when we’re on vacation, she’s the one organizing everything. I think it’s calming to her. Everything in her life is scheduled and planned. She even has allowances for chaos—no joke. I think that’s why she’s such a good mom.

“Good morning, Dill Weed,” she chirps in her southern accent. I purposefully lost my accent when I left Kentucky. “I know you got a client in three minutes, so I’ll keep this brief.” See, she even knows my schedule. “I need a headcount for Gram’s ninetieth birthday party. You’re coming, right?”

“Of course. Remind me when that is again,” I wince.

She groans. “It’s next month at Castle Gardens. I need to make sure I get the right ballroom.” When a chuckle escapes me, she balks. “Don’t mock me!”

“You are literally the General Manager and run that venue. You can make anything happen, and you’re worried about headcount at this point?”

“Don’t get in the way of my planning,” she hisses. “Gram deserves a flawless birthday party.”

“I’m not saying she doesn’t. Put your quad espresso down, Jitterbug. I’ll be there.”

“No plus one?”

Inwardly groaning, I lean back in my chair and toss my head. “Have I ever?”

“Why did you pause?” I can practically see her eyes narrowing.

I sigh.

“Dell, tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s this woman…and this man…”

“Dell!”

“I know. They’re both clients of mine.” Brook lets loose a giggle that has me cocking an eyebrow. “What? I’m in peril, and you’re laughing at me?”

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