Page 13 of Personal Foul
It’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.
Although, we both know it’s not like we met at work and started seeing each other afterward. In fact, the media did a fan-freaking-tastic job of publicizing our first-time meeting. Once people found out that’s how we truly met, it would clear up any speculation of this being some sort of tawdry affair.
Ugh, I hate even thinking of it like that.
“You okay?” Colson asks, his eyes roaming over my face, trying to gauge if something is bothering me.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, you looked like someone told you your dog was ugly.”
“Who would say something like that?”
“I don’t know, but you look offended or maybe a little annoyed.”
“You sure seem to read me so well.”
“Maybe this isn’t something you’d want to hear, but you tend to wear what you’re thinking on your face. Anyone who’s paying attention would have a fairly good idea of what’s on your mind. And trust me, I’m paying attention.”
Something about his words warms me all over. I’m in desperate need of space, or maybe a glass of water, as my eyes break apart from him, searching for a waiter to swoop in and help me.
My tongue darts out, swiping across my lips, wetting my skin.
“Sydney,” Colson commands. His words are low, full of desire. “I only sat on the other side of this table, knowing without space between us, I wouldn’t be able to resist kissing you. If you keep fuckin’ lickin’ those lips, all bets will be off.”
