Page 95 of Mark my Words

Seriously? Love lance... What in the fuck was that shit? Was this dick jousting now? And cavernous? Did she have the world’s roomiest vagina? Ew. This passage was more likely to make me vomit than turn anyone on, myself included.

“What’s wrong? You look like someone told you to throw away all your red Acroball pens.”

“You shut it. That’s blasphemy!”

A warm flush started in my cheeks as I glanced over where he was perched on the edge of his bed, an amused grin firmly in place. It was the same bed I’d slept in last night, despite my protests that we needed to remain strictly professional with each other. I wasn’t doing a particularly good job controlling my behavior around Sam. The soft sighs he made in his sleep and all that warm exposed skin had proved irresistible.

“A bit creepy that’s where your brain goes when you think of things that’d annoy me. I’m not sure if I should be concerned or flattered that you know the specific brand of pen I like.” Raising an eyebrow, I glanced at him, watching that cocky smirk grow as he continued watching me, knowing it unsettled me when he wasn’t talking.

“A bit creepy that you spent half last night glaring at me from across the room, yet I found you under my covers at 2:00 am clinging to me like a koala bear.”

“Koala bears bite, you know,” I snapped back, my fingers clenching on my stylus. I was being overly defensive again, but being that way was ingrained in me. It was second nature. “Whatever, Sam. Just let me get through this horrendous edit. I can’t deal with your smug face and try to sort through the mess of this fricking train wreck.”

“Is it really that bad? The fantasy pages haven’t been anything too terrible. Ellipsis and spelling discrepancies all over the place, but those are easily fixed.”

“Yeah, well, they’re obviously punishing my eyes with this shit. I wish it were just continuity issues. Sloane and Isobel kept poking me to stay in the running, but they are pushing my boundaries with this garbage.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of gratuitous smut in your tenure under Isobel.”

The corner of his mouth quirked as he obviously recalled what he’d just said, but I was too upset to make the easy joke about me being under Isobel.

“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “This isn’t smut. This isn’t even erotica. This is just painful to read, and I wonder if this author has even had sex before. They certainly haven’t been having good sex, that’s for sure. And the pen name is cringy as fuck.”

He placed his tablet on his nightstand and took a few steps toward me, hesitating before taking the seat next to me and holding out his hand. “Let me see.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sam’s fingers brushed mine as he grasped my laptop. He was close, the side of his arm brushing against mine as I fruitlessly tried to tamp down my physical response to his solid presence. He smelled faintly of a brewery, which made sense since we’d been in half a dozen, but the underlying masculine smell that was uniquely him had my pulse racing. I’d been as close to him as a person could get, but I felt like it would never be enough with him. I couldn’t get him out of my system because he’d gotten under my skin. If I was completely honest with myself, I didn’t want to either.

“Okay, you were right.”

Snapping out of my daze, I pulled my leg onto the mattress and turned to face him. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“I’m not repeating it,” he said with a smile, tapping his fingers on the edge of the screen. “But this is bad. And exactly why I don’t edit romance novels. I wouldn’t get through this without laughing my ass off.”

“Laugh it up, jackass. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your responses to the first smut we read together. You were like a little blushing virgin when we read about the prostitute and that detective.”

“Yeah, yeah, hold that over my head again. What’s wrong with the pen name?” he frowned as he looked down at the title page, the name Cleopatra Torres emblazoned in all caps.

“Seriously? You don’t get it?”

“What am I supposed to be getting?”

Holding in my laughter, I almost choked as I giggled out. “If I didn’t know better about you, I’d say it was fitting that a straight male editor couldn’t figure out that name.” He didn’t respond, clearing his throat as he sat up straight next to me and held his neck high. “Still?”

“Fine, explain it to me,” he sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but I could see his lips twitch.

“Cleopatra Torres...Cle Torres.“ Pausing, my eyes widened as I could tell from his blank expression he still didn’t get it. Geez. “Clitoris, Sam! Their pen name is clitoris!”

“No...”

“Yes,” I sighed dramatically, smothering my laughter. “My God, men really do have a challenging time figuring it out. At least their pen name didn’t have something to do with the G-spot, or you’d never find it.”

“Found yours pretty easily.” The pink in his cheeks made me think he was embarrassed to miss the fairly obvious innuendo, but he’d never admit it.

“Yeah, well, at least you’ve got that going for you—certainly isn’t your ability to pick up on dirty jokes.”

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He cleared his throat before he looked back down at the screen.

---