Page 72 of Going Viral for Christmas
“I take it that’s a no on the act-it-out option?”
“Soren!”
He’s breathing a little faster. It appears I’m not the only one imagining how those kisses might taste.
Planting both hands on my hips, I pace, trying to shake the mental image of theShadow Order High Priest Oral Sex Magicout of my brain.
Soren watches me the way someone might watch a cat approach a priceless vase—hoping for the best, fully expecting destruction.
“Ava,” he says, “I’m desperate.”
“Clearly.”
He scoots to the edge of the bed. “You’re the best spice writer I know when it comes to female POV.”
“I’m probably the only spice writer you know.”
“That too,” he replies. “I need this scene to work. I’ve rewritten it eight times. Camille said the early version sounded like a campfire tutorial, and the last one made her yell the word‘clammy’out loud in a meeting.”
I wince. “Yikes.”
“I’ll buy you all the caramel blondie coffees you want. Just…” He clasps his hands in mock prayer. “Help me.”
When I hesitate, he ups the stakes. “I’ll take you to your favorite indie bookstore—it probably has creaky floors and a small dog who’ll hate me—and I’ll do the ShelfSpace challenge. Three minutes. As many books as you can carry. I’ll be your pack mule. I’ll finance the entire thing.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“I’m prepared to drop thousands,” he says solemnly. “Possibly tens of thousands. My credit score will never recover. But your advice? Worth it.”
With a groan, I flop back onto the bed beside him. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for suffering artists.”
Soren grins. “Is that a yes?”
“Give me the laptop before I come to my senses.”
Beaming, he passes it over.
I reopen the document. Find the spot. And start reading again.
“Elira arched beneath him, thighs trembling as Daxion dragged his mouth over her breast and up, so slowly it might’ve been cruel if it didn’t make her whimper for more.”
My throat tightens, but I power through.
“Daxion’s hand settled low on her mound, thumb teasing her clit,holding her steady as his tongue found her heat once more and tasted her as though she was holy. As though he’d been starving for her.”
My faceflames. Soren’s eyes are fixed on me, brows raised in anticipation.
“Well?” he asks, voice far too casual.
I press my lips into a tight line.
“Based on the color of your face, I’m guessing I got it right.”
I swallow.
He chuckles, pleased with himself. “So the ‘starving for it’ line works?”
“It’s… evocative. But I’m getting déjà vu. It’s been used a million times.”
