Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I never smile.
I’m always serious, thinking about anything besides how I look, beyond making sure I’m professional and clean and respectable.
Yet around Elle, I turn into someone different.
Apparently, I become a functioning human being.
“What’s that, big brother?” Deb teases. “Did you say something? Oh? You’re stunned silent, is that it? Embarrassed someone caught you smiling?”
I just flash my sister a disgusted look.
Then I turn and stalk right out the door.
After a quick ride down the elevator, I stalk into the lobby. Elle’s right there, staring at something on her phone, stifling a laugh with her fingers pressed over her mouth. I know that look, and I shake my head as I step closer.
“What terrible thing has Miss Joly said now?”
Elle starts and glances up at me with wide eyes.
She’s sweetly casual today. The more time she spends with my aunt, the less she wears office attire and instead shows up in whatever’s comfortable—and most fitting.
Today it’s high-waisted jeans that hug her hips in lickable flows, clinging tightly to her legs, ripped in artful slashes over her creamy-soft thighs. Plus, a thin white long-sleeved crop top that exposes a dick-teasing flash of her belly. Her navel flirts in and out of the ragged holes in what used to be a long-sleeved black Cure concert shirt, now stretched thin with just a hint of screen print paint still showing here and there.
Her hair is up in a messy twist, secured with colored pencils. It falls in sprays into her face, a few tips kissing her eyelashes and the wings of color lining her eyes. Shades of pale green and blue match the remnants of paint on the shirt, making the tawny color of her irises flash like gold.
Her mouth is a rich rose pink, dotted with a subtle blue liner the same shade as her shadow, fading toward the kissable part of her lips in hues of blended purple. Paired with her chunky, strappy blue heeled pleather sandals.
She looks fun and flirty, while I’m the same stuffy overdressed asshole I always am.
“. . . August?” Elle laughs, and I realize she’s been talking to me this whole time. “Are you even listening?”
I shake myself. How does she make me lose my head just looking at her?
“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” I deflect. “What did you say?”
“I asked how you knew it was Lena.”
“Because you always laugh a certain way when she says something inappropriate, and then you try to hide it.” I arch a brow. “That girl never grew a brain-to-mouth filter.”
“Aw! Aren’t you the cutest fiancé, noticing how I look when I talk to my friends?” She hooks her arm in mine, bracing up on her toes to kiss my cheek.
She makes it look so natural, the way she leans into me with her scent wafting and the plush warmth of her mouth against my skin, my beard.
For a second, I give in and kiss her back, barely keeping a growl from exploding into her mouth.
“C’mon. If we drive fast, we’ll just make our showtime,” she whispers.
“If we’re late, it’s my fault.” I let her tug me toward the parking garage exit. “I was wrapped up in reviewing your proposal.”
Even as we step out into the dimness of the garage, she brightens, lightening the shade of the day. “Did you like it?”
“If we could get Aunt Clara to return to the series, it would be an excellent way to relaunch it for a new generation.” I take the lead, drawing her toward the waiting car. I see Merrick already stepping out of the driver’s seat to meet us. “I can see your personal touch, though. Will you let me see your portfolio sometime?”
The way she flushes so prettily, it’s clear her portfolio is very damn personal.
“I—sure,” she says, ducking her head before she quickly changes the subject. “Rick’s driving today? It’s not just us?” She glances at him as we draw closer. “No offense.”
“None taken, Miss Lark,” Rick answers politely, bowing as he opens the door for her. “Trust that I won’t be accompanying you into the theater. You’ll have each other all to yourselves.”
I clear my throat, avoiding his eyes, while Elle’s blush deepens.
She doesn’t say another word as she ducks into the back seat, while I round to the other side and let myself in. Since we’ve cleared that hurdle, things between us have been at once easier—and far more difficult.
That day on the beach made this insanity too real.
We forged an intangible bond.
Whether it’s friendship or something more, we weathered the storm I created and came out of it on the other side with a new understanding, a new trust.
That only leaves me more self-conscious than ever about the employees in the office whispering a little too loudly behind our backs. I can already imagine their comments, blabbing about how the girl with the magic touch finally revived the dead fish—fish, really?—and about how I am, apparently, quite fucking whipped.