Page 23 of Pretty Obsessed

He smiled and sat back, which made me want to grumble and demand he return. I could have made out with him all night. I wanted to make out with him all night.

“Will you tell me what you’re writing tonight?”

“I’m not writing anything. I’m sitting here with you.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes. “What are you trying to finish?”

“Is this what you want to be talking about?” People found writers fascinating in theory but in practice we were in our heads too much, and less amusing than what we were expected to be. In reality, being a writer meant long hours and lots of time staring at a laptop screen, and then more rewriting than I wanted to think about.

I’d feel better once I had my first draft done.

“Why would I bring it up if I didn’t want to be talking about it?” He looked at me with intense eyes and it was hard not to believe him.

“My job isn’t very interesting. I stare at a computer and not write more often than I write.”

“Sounds similar to how I write music. I end up with a lot of phone notes and memos I have to make sense of when we’re in the studio.” He skimmed a finger down the inside of my forearm.

“Oh…right. I didn’t think about music writing. I guess what I do is similar without all the posturing for crowds.”

He laughed, deep and rich. I felt Octavius’ eyes on us from across the room. I forced myself not to look. The judgement would be there tomorrow.

“So you’re attempting to finish this novel, yes? What makes this place so good to work in?”

“I can’t work in my place. The walls are loud. I know how it sounds, but I pace and clean and don’t get anything done. I needed a change of scenery and—” I frowned. I didn’t want to get into it about my cabin. “Octavius suggested I try here. It was working well.”

“It was?”

The way he kept drawing things out of me. River was so easy to talk to. “You were pretty distracting yesterday.”

“I won’t take offense. Did you get some work done before our impromptu make out session yesterday?” His smile told me he was amused.

“Some, yes. I don’t foresee getting anything done tonight.” Was this too forward? I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to sleep with him, but I was enjoying his company.

“And tell me why you foresee such things?” More curl to his lips.

He was pleased with my response.

“Because I foresee sitting and talking to you while you’re here, and then going home to think about it.” It’s what I’d done last night. I’d thought about our make out session more than once and needed a cold shower before I came here.

I hadn’t expected him to be here, but this place had transformed in my mind from a safe workspace to porn. I wanted to write romance, and it wasn’t even my genre. My main characters would end up in bed if I wrote here, and since I was writing YA, this wasn’t what needed to happen.

“I could keep asking you about this all night. I will drag it out of you piece by piece.”

I picked up my drink to have something to focus on. “What else do you need to draw out of me? I told you what I did.”

“I want more. I want to know if yesterday was favorable and if you— enjoyed yourself when you went home.”

I gulped for air. Was he asking if I’d gone home and jacked off? He had to be. “What exactly do you want to know, River? Last night was—favorable.” I used the same word he had for fear of giving him more than I was willing to at the moment. It was hot and I had done exactly what he asked.

His full lips pursed. “Fair.”

“What?” I asked, desperate to keep him talking.

“Your hesitation,” he replied easily.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. “You’re requesting a lot from a stranger.”

“Isn’t this how one gets to know someone, or perhaps my fame has jaded me?”

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