Page 73 of Going Viral for Christmas
“Evocative likeholy shit, take me, or more likeeh, we’ll cut it in edits?”
“Both,” I reply. “Mostly the first. Aggressively the first.”
I stare at him.
He stares right back.
The air turns thick with heat. And the fact that I’m still picturing that scene—withhisvoice.Hishands.Hismouth.
God, please make it stop.
“Do you want me to keep going?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
His answer is immediate. “Yes.”
So I do. Slowly. Carefully. Reading each word aloud with as much detachment as I can fake. That façade cracks the second I hit the next page:
“Elira rolled her hips, greedy now, chasing the friction. And when Daxion’s fingers curled just right—she broke, shattering with a cry she tried to muffle. But he didn’t care who heard it. Let it ring out for all the realms.”
My voice falters. Soren shifts closer. The warmth of him sweeps over me. His thigh brushes mine, and my breath hitches. The laptop between us is a loaded weapon. I’m afraid that if I look up, his eyes might match the desire in mine.
That invisible tether pulls taut between us–the ache of proximity daring us to make it more. I’m desperately trying not to fall into something that’s already happening.
His voice is raspy when he asks, “That last line? Was it too much?”
“No,” I say quietly. “It wasn’t enough.”
The space between us narrows by a breath.
Clearing my throat, I shift on the bed and tuck my hair behind my ear as though the movement might sweep the tension away. “So, where did you get the inspiration for Elira?” I aim for light, but the question betrays more weight than I want it to. I find myself jealous of the woman behind the character.
Soren leans in, as if he’s about to share a secret or touch me. Maybe kiss me. I don’t know which would be worse. Or better.
His throat bobs, then he whispers, “You.”
My mouth falls open. A shiver rolls across my skin. Those three little letters danceeverywhere.My knees gravitate toward him on instinct. My hand flutters to my neck, a nervous tic or invitation, I don’t even know anymore.
A storm brews inside Soren’s raging silver eyes. Lifting his hand, fingers ghost along the curve of my jaw, marking the moment. If he moves forward one more inch, we’ll shatter the fragile line we’ve drawn.
His gaze drops to my mouth. Mine stays locked on his.
And then?—
“Knock knock knock,”Fisher sings, striding in without warning.
Lurching away from Soren so fast, I fall off the bed and hit the floor with athud. Soren immediately reaches for me, but I scramble back up.
Fisher halts and sniffs the air. “Why does this room smell faintly of sexual tension and burnt popcorn?” His eyes bounce between Soren and me. “Oh my God, were you two about to bang?”
“Nothing was happening,” I stammer.
Fisher crosses his arms. “Ava, blink twice if The Blade is seducing you.” He doesn’t mean Soren’s nickname.
“There was no seducing.”
“Uh-huh.” Fisher flops into the armchair and pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “Well,somethingwas happening, and I just saved you from turning this into Chapter Thirteen ofThings That Complicate Book Tours.You’re welcome.”
Soren coughs and casually grabs a throw pillow to cover his lap. “Thanks, man.”
