Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I grind my teeth, then sip my black coffee, scalding my tongue. But it’s nothing compared to the heat I feel when I think about Piper.
That night, she’d been wearing tight blue jeans that showed the thickness of her thighs, the roundness of her ass. A light layer of makeup brought out her natural beauty, her cheeks red and flushed, her gorgeous hazel eyes wide with lust after our kiss and closeness.
“Have you already hired someone?”
“No,” I tell him.
“So she can interview?”
I can’t think of a good reason to tell him no. The secret clouds my head and makes me irrationally angry. At myself, at the world. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Yeah, she can interview,” I say, feeling like I’m sealing my fate.
Later, sweat drips down my body, and my shirt sticks to me as I use the rowing machine in my home gym in Pacific Heights. I’m on a conference call with my design team for SnapBrew, one of our more successful products, discussing new flavors.
I rarely do two-a-day workouts, but my mind is feeling cluttered.
All too soon, I’ll be interviewing Piper, the woman whose lips I can still taste after three fucking years. I need to get a grip. Need to put this into perspective. But I can’t seem to.
Once the call ends, I strip off my sweaty clothes and step into the shower, the hot water sliding down my tense body. I wait for my body to relax and my mind to settle, but it won't; my blood is still humming when I’m done. I stand in the steamy room and grab my phone, deciding to do something I’ve avoided ever since the madness at the party.
I look at Piper’s social media. Ever since the kiss, I’ve purposefully avoided her existence. But if I’m going to see her again, I need to be ready.
Maybe then I’ll realize that the party was a one-off. I wasn’t drunk, sure, but I’d had a couple of beers. Maybe it was that. Some random surge of lust that will never repeat itself.
Fuck.
I’m wrong.
Her profile photo shows her at a party wearing a tight top and a skirt, which gives me a preview of her thick legs. She’s got the same wide, alluring sunburst eyes, the same twitch at the corner of her mouth that seems to say, Deep down, I know I’m beautiful, but I wouldn’t mind if you convinced me.
As I stare at the photo, my rod hardens, my balls ache, and my mind steers to places I should be stubbornly avoiding—the phone trembles in my hand. The skirt squeezes onto her delectable hips, reminding me how she felt, sensual, ready to give herself to me, to the experience, to take what she wanted from me too.
I slide my hand to my cock, wrapping around my base and stroking. This is wrong. I roar it in my mind: stop!
But it feels so damn good, so right, to imagine sliding my hand up her leg, feeling her bare thigh, moving my touch toward her sex, toward her wet lips and her eager nub and…
And then I look up as the extractor fan turns on, the steam beginning to clear.
I see myself in the mirror. Six feet of tense muscle, my manhood thick and rock-hard, precome glistening at my end. My cock in one hand and the cellphone in the other. I look into my eyes. It’s almost as if I’m staring at another person.
What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t do this; I can’t let myself go here.
She’s probably forgotten it even happened. To her, it’s probably just an old hookup, no big deal, and here I am obsessing over it.
I lock my phone screen, let go of my cock, and leave the bathroom.
It’s an old hookup, a minute, maybe two, of desire. That’s all. That’s all it can ever be. I need to get a grasp on my sanity, but this hunger won’t quit.
Elliot is the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s the best man I know. He’d hate me if he knew about the kiss or my obsession.
Why can’t that be enough for me to leave her alone?
For the interview, I’ll have to be cold and distant. I’ll have to pretend Piper’s just another twenty-something with stars in her eyes wanting to make it big.
CHAPTER 2
PIPER
Logan’s assistant, Clive, meets me at the entrance of their glass-fronted building in SoMa, South of Market. A techy-looking guy zips past us on an electric scooter. I almost jump, then realize that’d make me look even more out of place than I feel.
I need to make the best of this. First, I failed English literature. Then, I decided business wasn’t for me. I tried and failed to have a relationship, which was cruddy and not even worth thinking about.
This is my chance. I’ve already buried what happened at my going away party. That was three freaking years ago. It might as well have been three hundred. It’s meaningless. Do I believe all this? I’m not sure, but it’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.