Page 53 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“As soon as possible,” I admit, biting my lip, “I’m worried it might be really overwhelming.”

“I’ve handled a lot of high pressure situations.”

“My family is very… loyal.”

“That’s what every family should be,” Caleb frowns, lifting a lock of hair and placing it behind my shoulder. “I like your hair down.”

“You do?”

The scent of him is intoxicating. “You’re a beautiful girl, Zoe.” Caleb searches my eyes, and his are stormy.

Suddenly I realize it.

He’s about to kiss me.

I whisper, “Oh goodness!”

TWENTY-TWO

Caleb

The soft hum of the city outside barely penetrates the cozy bubble of Zoe’s studio apartment. We’re practically nestled together on her couch, the warmth of our bodies beneath us, and the smell of her vanilla candles mixed with something I can’t quite pinpoint — is it pumpkin? — fills the air.

I find myself entranced by the way the light dances off her features, casting gentle shadows across her innocent smile. She looks so adorable, so genuine, that the urge to lean in and kiss her has surged within me, a wave of desire I can’t ignore.

I told her, “You’re a beautiful girl, Zoe.”

She closed her eyes, ready for me, and whispered the sweetest thing, “Oh goodness!”

Now I’m all in, and I start to close the distance, but Ralphie, her mischievous cat, leaps onto my lap like a furry missile. His sharp claws sink into my thigh, jolting me back to reality and breaking the spell. “Whoa!” I yelp, shifting my weight as I try to dislodge him.

Zoe bursts into nervous laughter, her eyes sparkling with a mix of empathy and concern. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, scooping Ralphie into her arms. “He’s been such a little monster lately!”

Smarting from the pain, I chuckle, rubbing my leg where her cat had attacked. “He’s got impeccable timing,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment that’s lingering in the air.

Once she’s settled Ralphie on the floor, Zoe turns to me, takes my hand, and leads me to her kitchen. I glance to her refrigerator, my gaze catching on a dozen or so photographs from moments in her life. People she cares about. I have nothing on my fridge back home but a grocery list.

Zoe touches my chin to draw my attention back to her. “It’s okay,” she says softly, voice barely above a whisper. “You can kiss me now.”

The words hang between us, heavy with potential. If I kiss her, I might want to take it further and her innocent confusion when I asked about her small bed, tells me she’s not been with many men.

Has she been with any?

I’m dying to know.

My heart races, caught between the thrill of her invitation and the caution that weighs on my mind. I lean in slightly, feeling the warmth radiate from her body. Our breath mingles. Hesitation grips me.

I want to kiss her. I really do. But our impending marriage is built on a financial deal for me, not romance. Can I allow myself to blur those lines?

“You want me to kiss you,” I begin, my voice thick with desire. “I?—”

She tilts her head, those big, angelic green eyes searching mine, and I can see the sincerity there. There’s a curiosity in her, a yearning that feels fragile. But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still figuring things out, that this moment, while electrifying, is laced with naivety. And is she testing me? Dipping her toe in the water to see if she wants to go in? Would she break the engagement if things went…south?

“It’s not a simple thing,” I finally say, pulling back, my heart heavy. “We agreed this was a practical arrangement. I don’t want to muddy the waters.”

Her face falls, disappointment flickering across her features. “But I… thought you wanted to,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

“I do,” I admit, and I mean it. “But I don’t think it’s good for us right now. I feel like you’re just curious.”

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