Page 31 of Going Viral for Christmas
“Oh, I’ve got plenty.” I stab my fork into a roasted carrot. “But I left my ego-dismantling kit back in the hotel room.”
“Fisher was right, you are spicy,” Soren laughs, clearly enjoying himself. “Now I’m definitely staying.”
I exhale, shove a forkful of pork chop into my mouth, and chew.
A smile curls on Fisher’s lips, but he doesn’t comment.
“So, have you two been plotting my demise this whole time?” Soren asks, waving over our waiter.
“Not yet,” I answer. “Still weighing the pros and cons.”
Soren grins. “Let me know if I can help tip the scale.”
One side of Fisher’s mouth curves back because he can’t resist a golden opportunity for a dirty joke. The second Soren said “tip,” Fisher’s expression changed immediately. Now he’s halfway to drafting an entire erotica novella based on that one word.
I kick Fisher under the table, mentally screaming at him to focus, then I fix my face to resemble a fake sweet smile, turning my attention back to Soren. “We were discussing the plan.”
“Ah, yes. Theromanceof it all.” Soren savors the word as though he likes the taste of it.
Does it taste good in his mouth?
Fisher jumps in. “Well, I for one love what you two are doing. You know, I’ve always said Ava needs someone to shake her out of her tight little bubble. Someone tall. Charming. A little maddening.”
Soren raises a hand. “I’m available.”
They both laugh. I don’t. My vagina might file for emancipation, possibly with Fisher as her lawyer.
Another round of cocktails shows up per Soren. This one is an autumnal concoction with a cinnamon rim and a festive garnish.
Fisher insists we toast to “inevitable choices.” I drink mine faster than I should, which might explain why my edges start to blur a little.
Across the room, a few content creators pretend not to stare. One of them definitely snaps a pic. Another tilts her phone, acting like she’s getting B-roll footage for a post captioned “Enemies to Lovers in the Wild.”
Soren’s presence changes the air. It’s hotter now. Looser. With a sexy, fire-in-the-fireplace sort of vibe.
My pulse jumps when his knee brushes mine under the table, subtle, but it still shoots lightning straight up my spine.
Scenes start playing in my brain–one with a one-bed trope, then another with me getting completely railed on the oversized window seatin my hotel room while city lights glimmer in the background as if cheering him on, while that smirk of his presses against my skin.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does he affect me this way?
My phone buzzes, yanking me from the visual of my breasts pressed against the cool pane of glass, one of Soren's hands tangled in my hair while his other works my clit apart with devastating precision.
Group Chat with Fisher and Renata:PLOT THICCENS(named by Fisher, obviously)
Shifting in my seat, I swipe open the message from PR Queen Supreme:
Fisher, you’ve stirred enough. Time for the heroine and the hot guy to suffer in forced proximity. Shoo.
Fisher checks his phone, then grins so wide it could break a camera lens. “Well–” He rises. “—the goddesses of Spin and Sparkle are summoning me. You two enjoy your drinks and your mounting sexual repression.”
I want to die.
He winks. At me. At Soren. Maybe at the table itself. And then he’s gone. Leaving me alone. Withhim.
Soren twists to turn his full attention toward me. His gaze simmers, as if he’s trying to peel back layers I won’t give him permission to see. He’s making me deeply uncomfortable, but also a little feral.
No, the drinks are making me feral.Sorenis making me tiptoe straight into an area I’m not ready for.
