Page 51 of Foreplay on Words

Emory: Pushing him right into the fire?

Chase: I just hope he doesn’t run the other way.

Emory: He’d be an idiot if he let you go.

Emory: I’ve got shoots this week and next out of town. I can make myself available after that. Let me know.

Chase: I will.

Emory: Good luck! And don’t forget you’re mine when this is over.

Chase: I get a veto on the wardrobe.

Emory: Drama Queen.

Chase: Yeah...yeah

Emory: Behave. I’ll check in later. Have fun with your new toy.

Chase: Bite me.

Emory: Maybe later.

Emory: Brat.

I put down my phone and picked up my laptop. Isabel had sent me about three emails asking for my latest pages. There were also thinly veiled threats because she was mad; I was dodging her calls, after all.

It wasn’t necessarily intentional, but I didn’t want to lie to her. I also didn’t want to pop the bubble Evan and I were inside. We were just starting whatever this was, and I was attached to both him and the novel. Going home was honestly the last thing on my mind.

I knew he wouldn’t want me moving in permanently, but I wanted to see where this went. My heart was invested, and I couldn’t walk away.

Large hands covered my eyes, and I smiled as he kissed the back of my neck. “Being productive out here?”

“I’m trying. Someone told me they didn’t want me getting into their head today.”

I tilted my head to the side as I looked at him over the back of the couch. He kissed me softly and ran the pads of his fingers down the exposed skin on my neck.

“Now who’s distracting who?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I can see where I’m not wanted.” Evan started to back up from the couch, slowly turning away.

I sat up and grabbed his arm before he got too far and pulled him back to me.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Might as well get this over with.

“That sounds ominous.”

His hands found my hips, and he looked into my eyes before he leaned forward to kiss me softly. I hummed into his mouth as our lips languidly caressed each other.

“I promise it’s not bad, but...”

“Lay it on me,” he smiled.

“There’s this photographer in Boston that I know. I’m trying to schedule a consultation with him.”

“So, you need to go back?” He frowned, and I hated that I may have upset him. “Why a photographer? New headshots?”

“He does want to photograph me, but no. He can help us with the book.”

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