Page 10 of Mark my Words

“Why?”

“‘Cause men are always looking for stupid excuses for inflating their already over-inflated egos.” And appointing oneself as important based on what lay between your legs was getting old. The cliché could die already; I was tired of beating down other men’s egos. Sam’s boss being one of them.

“Sociologists have said it’s an actual phenomenon,” Sam explained, and then I was eye-rolling. Yet again. Of course, it was.

“Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t make the way men’s brains function any less ridiculous.” It always seemed to come back to an ongoing, perpetual dick-measuring contest. “Do you let the size of what’s in your pants make you act like a douchebag?” I asked with a pointed glance at his slacks.

“You think I have it?”

Well, that backfired.

“I never said that...” The smug grin I could see out of the corner of my eye made me clench my teeth.

“But implying that I should be acting like a douchebag means that you think I’ve got something to warrant it.”

I rolled my eyes and raised my voice, trying to downplay the reaction he was trying to get out of me... and that he was succeeding. “Okay, Sherlock. Let’s pretend this conversation didn’t happen. Can we get back to why this whole sentence is unnecessary?”

“He’s using it as justification for why his character acts as he does,” Sam explained thoughtfully. Usually, when I questioned an author’s reasoning, I got that condescending glare from other editors, but Sam wasn’t like that. I wasn’t sure if I liked how that affected my image of him. I wanted to believe he was cut from the same cloth as his sexist supervisor, but he appeared to take our discussion seriously, not simply humoring me because I was challenging him.

“So, he’s a ‘cocky’ jerk with a huge...ego...because he’s got impressive equipment. What if he didn’t? He wouldn’t still be capable of being a sociopathic jerk?”

He tilted his head and pursed his lips before he responded. “Well, it can go both ways. Sometimes men act like jerks because they’re overcompensating.”

I laughed and didn’t even need to think to identify a man like that. “So, Adrian.”

“No comment,” Sam chuckled, winking at me. “Other times, having a large member can instill someone with an innate confidence that they might not have if they...”

“Had a micro-penis.”

Sam’s lip quirked at the corner with my blunt appraisal of some members of the male species. We may have disagreements, but Sam seemed to enjoy my commentary, even if it wasn’t always the most diplomatic assessment of a situation. “Or simply below average. Doesn’t have to require a magnifying glass to find it.”

“Also, like Adrian,” I giggled, and his mouth pulled into a more genuine smile, his eyes connecting with mine. The dark blue almost seemed to sparkle with humor, and I liked that while I couldn’t always read his facial responses, I could read his eyes.

“Stop,” he laughed as he made a few notes about the impact of penis size affecting character development. “All we can do is put in the suggestions. It’s up to Evan what he wants to use as a plot device.”

“Fair enough,” I agreed with a nod. Evan didn’t seem the sexist type of macho man, so if he was using the word, and Chase wasn’t browbeating him into changing it, using it in his story was intentional.

“I need to return a few emails, you look through the last section, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Sam took his phone out of his pocket and stood up, avoiding eye contact as he approached the door. He seemed a little nervous as he left, and I wondered why he was acting so uncomfortable.

Then I started reading.

Kallie was taunting the detective about what methods she’d used to get the information he needed for his investigation. He was forceful with her, and I found my nipples reacting against my will as I kept reading. Evan’s dialogue was all the same as before, but you could feel the frustration and pent-up energy in their coupling with the changes he’d made.

“Damn...”

There was a part where he pulled her hair, and she hit her head against the wall while he pinned her on her knees. The description of the act caused a noticeable reaction in me as I kept reading. My skin prickled, my breathing picked up, and I could tell my eyes were dilating. Chase had truly worked her magic on him to get this kind of reaction. Her grasp of seduction was what made her so successful. With a few well-placed words, she could turn on the heat. No wonder Sam left the room. If this was managing to turn me on, I could only imagine what it’d done to him.

“You finished?” He peeked in the doorway and scanned my face, probably noticing the changes. I had the horrible tendency of having a very noticeable flush to the skin of my neck when I felt aroused. The tenor in his voice was lower than it had been before he retreated to the hallway, but maybe that was only my imagination.

“Close enough,” I squeaked.

“And?” He sat next to me and turned the tablet, glancing at the few notes I’d left—nothing substantial, simple wording and sentence structure suggestions.

“It was...good... I guess.” I cleared my throat, trying to banish the breathy quality it’d taken on. I wasn’t one of those girls who poured on the charm with breathy voices and fluttering eyelashes. I needed to get my head back in the game. I was a professional.

“You guess?”

I wasn’t about to admit to him that it was a good thing I was wearing a padded bra. I also wouldn’t be telling him about my slightly damp panties. “It’ll work.”

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