Page 6 of Final Temptation
I pulled open my messages, eyes as wide as saucers at the name typed across the screen.
Sophie Turner.
I hadn’t seen Sophie in months, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t thought of her. No matter how lonely I was, there was no way I would reach out to her and tell her I’d thought about our kiss almost every day since. Or that every kiss I’d had since then hadn’t even come close to measuring up.
I clicked on the message, unable to wait another second to see what she had to say.
Sophie: It’s giving fuck boy.
This girl.Damn.We hadn’t talked in months, and that was how she greeted me? I shook my head, my laugh filling the silence.
I wasn’t sure if she was waiting around for my message back, but I decided to let her sweat it out a little bit longer while I drove home. I had zero intentions of leaving her on read all night, but I was going to have some fun with this.
She wasn’t far off from the truth, though; I did have the tendency to be a fuck boy—even I could admit that.
For fuck’s sake.
I never should have messaged Myles or pulled up that stupid app. Now, I was stuck obsessing over the fact that he’d read my message without a care in the world to respond. Clearly, I was old news. We shared one kiss and hadn’t talked since. He had to be on to the next thing—someone who would put out more for him. Something more than a kiss. He was the same old Myles I’d always known him to be—a player and a fuck boy.
Let’s be real, a guy like that wasn’t fazed by a one-kiss wonder.
The buzz was getting to my head, so I turned off the TV, set my martini glass in the sink, and decided to get ready for bed. Just as I began my nightly skin care routine, my phone vibrated.
My skin broke out in goosebumps, and my pulse thumped through my ears.
I couldn’t tell you why I was so frazzled at the idea of Myles messaging me back. Maybe it was because I hated to lose control, and when I gave in and wrote him a message,henow had every ounce of it.
With a shaky breath, I turned over my phone to checkthe notification, and sure enough, it was a message on the dating app. Just below my text from earlier was his response.
Myles: Hello to you too, Princess. Are you here to admit that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about me?
Ugh. He wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t right either. I had no problem forgetting he existed—that was until I was lonely, like tonight.
Me: Cocky per usual. Maybe I was just bored. Call it a weak moment.
Suddenly, it felt like we would have this back-and-forth banter, and I didn’t want it to stop just because I took too long to respond. So, deciding to ditch my skin care routine, I headed to my bedroom while I waited for him to message back.
Myles: Am I who you think of in your weak moments, Sophie?
It was only moments before he shot back his next message and my cheeks burned red, suddenly feeling every overwhelming emotion that stood between nervous and hot-and-bothered.
Me: Considering this has been my one and only weak moment, sure Myles, you’re who I think about.
Myles: What was it that made you want to message me for the first time?
Leaning back on my memory foam pillow, I fidgetedwith my baby blue silk pajama top, fluffing my tits as if we were about to video chat, when clearly, we weren’t. Surely, it would only be a few text messages, but just his name on my screen had goosebumps running down my spine.
Damnit, stop fidgeting and think, Sophie. Why do I want to message him again?
Me: Like I said, maybe I was just bored…
Myles: Are you trying to use me as a booty call, Soph?
My jaw popped open. I am not the one to call the booty; the booty calls me.
Me: I can take care of myself. Your booty isn’t necessary, thank you.
I smiled with a smug grin.
