Page 423 of One More Kiss

I gasp at his words, so bold and honest. Though I’m pissed that the moment wasn’t as private as I thought, knowing he watched and enjoyed it is doing unusual things to my body. Tingles rush through me, and I feel exhilarated from it all, but even so, I want nothing more than to escape from his presence. He’s way too close for comfort, and the way he’s looking at me with soft eyes is…different.

“I said, I’m sorry. Accept it or not,” he tells me before walking back to his breakfast.

I suck in a deep breath and go back to my plate of food and finish eating without saying a word while Ethan’s eyes are glued to me. When I look up at him, he’s smiling, chewing with his mouth open.

“Have some manners, at least. Not only are you an ass, but you’re disgusting, too.” As always, my words don’t faze him. He stands and places his plate in the sink then walks around and grabs mine. His arm brushes against my skin and goose bumps trail up and down my body. Tucking my arms in my lap, I don’t dare give him any fuel to add to his country bumpkin bonfire because he’s enjoying this way too much.

I’m intrigued, but I don’t say a word. Sometimes the silent treatment is more powerful than saying what’s on my mind.

Turning around, he gives me a smirk as he leans against the counter. “So one more question for you. What time should I be in the tower tonight? Same as last night?”

“You’re seriously one of the biggest douchebags I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, come on. That can’t be true. I’m sure you’ve met bigger ones.” He grins, knowing he’s getting under my skin.

“Sometimes I get anxious or restless, and I need a release to help me relax and concentrate so I can get back to work. It clears my mind, so I don’t overthink while writing. There’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all. So quit bringing it up. It happened, and it’s over. Get over it. Next time, I’ll make sure to take a nice long bath instead. There’s no spy windows in there.” I’m so annoyed, I walk across the kitchen to pour coffee in my cup that I plan on taking to-go.

“Shit, you must get yourself off several times during the day then, because uptight seems to be your middle name.” Ethan chuckles.

I roll my eyes so hard they might actually fall right out of my head.

“Shut up, Ethan.” There are too many words to write, and I’m wasting too much time with him. Just as I head to the door, he speaks up again.

“Vada.” He walks to me, allowing himself into my personal space. I take a step backward, which only causes him to take another step forward. “Any time you need to be unwound, just let me know.” His voice is low, rough, and so damn sexy that my mouth falls open.

I look into his eyes and can tell he’s actually fucking serious. My face contorts, and I look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “Seriously? Is this the part where I’m supposed to fall on my knees for you?”

“You’re the author here. Tell me how you’d write the story,” he quips.

I pretend to throw up in my mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re always so feisty. I kinda like that, you know.”

I huff. “I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me. I’m not some whore at your service. That’s not who I am. But then again, I’m paying you, so that’d make you my whore if we were to get technical here.”

Slowly, Ethan brushes his fingers across my cheek and tucks my messy morning hair behind my ear. Those stupid tingles creep across my body, and it takes everything I have not to lean into his touch.

Leaning over, he whispers in my ear. “Sex doesn’t have to be like one of those romantic scenes in your books. Sometimes it can be purely physical with no strings attached.” His breath runs along my skin, and his mouth barely grazes the shell of my ear causing me to shiver. As he pulls away, I feel as if I’m unable to move, glued to the floor, holding my mug as tight as I can so I don’t drop it. Swallowing hard, I try to catch the breath he somehow stole.

Snapping out of it and finally finding my words, I think of the perfect response. “So do you offer your dick to all the women who rent your cottage? If so, you should really update your Airbnb listing. Country cottage comes with amenities, such as beautiful views, flower gardens, and gigolo services. Probably could get double your rate.”

Ethan crosses his strong arms over his chest and smirks. This time, the way he’s looking at me with those honey-colored eyes practically make my panties melt off my body. Seriously, I’m surprised there’s not a line of women waiting at his door. However, he’s probably screwed and scared them all away.

“Actually, sweetheart,” he starts, sucking in a breath. “You’d be the first.” Ethan chews on his plump bottom lip before taking a sip of coffee.

Dead. I’m dead, but I have to pull it together before I do something stupid and spontaneous. Like accept his ridiculous offer.

“Right. I really believe that. It’s been real fun, but I gotta go, Casanova. Try not to offer your dick to too many women today while you’re out and about. It might fall off or something.”

Before I close the door, I hear him loudly chuckling, and it drives me absolutely insane. He’s enjoying this way too much, and it’s bothering the shit out of me because nothing I say remotely affects him. It takes everything I have to not turn around and give him a piece of my mind, but he’d probably like it. Considering I’ve dealt with his type before, and I don’t want to end up having rough, crazy sex on the kitchen floor with him, walking away is the best decision.

Once I’m in the cottage, I sip my coffee while sitting back at the desk and turn on my laptop. I reread the previous chapter, trying to get back into my headspace, but I’m drawing nothing. At this point, I’ve gone completely off my outline, and no words are coming to me. There’s nothing but a cursor on a blank page. This chapter and two others have to be written today, which is thousands of words. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to concentrate then crack my fingers and place them back on the keyboard.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

That stupid cursor is mocking me.

A few hours pass and I write a lousy paragraph that I end up deleting. Hannah's words are repeating in my mind, and I remind myself that she’s rooting for me and my career. Basically, I just need to get my shit together. My last book didn’t sell as well as I had hoped, or my publisher expected, so if I don’t knock it out of the park with this new project, my writing career may be doomed. There’s no way I’m going back to the corporate world. Writing is my calling, my passion, and I have to make this work. Closing my eyes tight, I hope the words will just flow through my fingers like magic.

Blink. Blink. Blink.I’m two seconds away from banging my head against the desk, and after six long hours of getting nothing done, I’m becoming more desperate. This day cannot be wasted. I need words at this point like I need air.

All my anxiety and stress about this deadline is mixing with Casanova’s words. He basically presented me his dick on a gold platter. Probably all hard and thick with bulging veins and a velvet-soft shaft. Fuck. Maybe he was kidding or baiting me, but when I looked into his eyes, I knew deep down he was serious.

There was no joking.

No animosity.

That man meant what he said with every fiber of his being. But the truth is, girls like me don’t go for guys like him. Our types clash. Always.

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