Page 95 of Going Viral for Christmas
“I love that.” Soren beams.
This breakfast was never a meal. It was a setup.
“Great idea,” I say, voice sugary enough to rot teeth. “Fisher can come too.”
Soren raises a brow. Fisher freezes mid-bite. I flash a victorious smile.
Soren Pembry thought he was getting alone time with me today?
Yeah. No dice, buddy.
Sixteen
SOREN
I’ve been accused of a lot of things in my life—broody, aloof, built for flings and random hookups, quick, dirty, and emotionally unavailable, butneverof running from a challenge.Especiallynot one in the form of Ava Bell, with her stubborn heart and eyes that shoot lightning bolts.
Which is why I’m still here. Even after last night. Even after this morning. Even after breakfast. And especially after she fled the table like she was on fire and I was the gasoline.
Even now, standing in front of the house with my boots on the driveway, about to get into a car with her, for a day trip into the most ironic setting imaginable.
Salem, Massachusetts.
The town of witch trials. Of burning questions, ghost tours, and all the pent-up tension a pair of enemies-turned-fake-lovers–yes,lovers. I’m manifesting it.
“Where’s Fisher?” Ava asks, standing on the porch, arms crossed, lips pursed, wearing a fitted black V-neck sweater that dips down, teasing at her cleavage and hugging her petite frame. Her hair is in a ponytail, giving all sorts of visuals of me gripping it tight while her lips wrap around my dick. And then again, when I’m buried inside her from behind, tugging it back to make her moanmy name.
My cock swells inside my jeans.Down, Captain Pembry!
“He said he was coming,” she says, peering behind me.
I shrug innocently, knowing exactly how this is going to play out. I overheard Fisher and Mandy whispering in the kitchen this morning about a Christmas crafting sesh in her “She Shed,” which Fisher replied with, “You mean your Smut Hut?”
Mandy pretty much gift-wrapped this solo tourist run with Ava for me. God bless her.
Just as Ava turns to head back inside, the front door swings open and there Fisher is, coffee mug in hand and fake innocence painted across his face.
“Why aren’t you ready to go?" Ava asks him, confused.
“Oh,” he says, British voice casual. “Forgot. Uh, I promised Mandy I’d help her with the hay bale staging for her Christmas nativity setup. Can’tbailon the family.”
Ava narrows her eyes. “You hate hay.”
“Luv, I’m doing it for Jesus.” He winks before backing into the house.
“Tell Jesus, I’m going to murder you,” she hisses.
Trying to hide the smile spreading across my face, my chin drops to my chest. Fisher blows her a kiss, then slams the door.
Ava’s cutting scowl could slice steel. I’m so thrilled for this development. No buffer. A whole day with a woman who drives me insane in every possible way.
I flash her a cocky grin. “Guess it’s just you and me, Bells.”
She doesn’t answer.
I can’t help myself. “It’s also a great opportunity to prove we’re the real deal to the world, don’t you think? We can take a million pics and post a few vids.”
The glare she levels me with nearly guts me. There’s a storm brewing behind her expression that tells me her mind is grinding over a thousand unspoken questions while her heart pulls in opposite directions. She’s rattled, caught between craving and caution, between the enemy she swore I was and the man she’s already reached for. Twice.
