Page 8 of Sexting Mr. CEO

"You know we're strangers, right?"

He gently smooths his thumb over my knuckles. "Do I feel like a stranger to you?"

"No," I admit.

"What do I feel like, then?"

Tingles dance up my arm, into my chest, and through my body like champagne fizzing and sparking, leaving me warm and fuzzy all over. I don't believe it's the champagne. It's him. The closeness, the warmth. It's the sudden introduction of physical touch into my life. It's the feeling of being respected.

It’s a cocktail of desire, heat, and intellectual bonding.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I counter.

“That would mean revealing who I really am…”

“I’m ready,” I tell him.

“No, you’re not. You’ll call me crazy.”

“If you’re crazy, so am I. Try me.”

He keeps massaging my hand, prompting goosebumps to pebble over my skin. “I was once a character in a romance novel. But I became obsessed with a certain reader…I couldn’t stop fantasizing about her, so I clawed my way out of the pages tobecome a real flesh-and-blood man with real flesh-and-blood desire…”

I laugh, shaking my head, and he chuckles.

“I told you.”

“You’re so silly.”

“There’s some truth in it, though, if I’m like those characters you love reading about…”

“Yeah, except it’s impossible.”

“How badly I want you, Sera, so fast, so intensely… that it should be impossible, but it’s not.”

I squeeze his hand even tighter, my heart skipping a beat as a spark of danger zips through me. “Do you want to see the code I’ve been working on? I downloaded it to the new laptop. It’s in my room.”

What am I doing? What if he wants more than I can give him? But I want this. I want him. I want to be the woman I read about. I want to be the confident woman in the bedroom I can be while giving speeches. Is there any reason I have to be so nervous about this stuff?

“I want to see it,” he says. “And I mean that, Sera. If all you want to do is show me your code, then I’ll spent the rest of the evening admiring your work.”

“You saw from the presentation. It’s still in the early stages.”

“And it’s still impressive.”

He stands, taking my hand.

“What about the champagne?” I ask.

He shrugs. “We can take the bottle if you like, but I’ve had enough.”

“I don’t want anymore either. I’m already full of bubbles.”

“Then we’ll leave it.”

“Just like that? It’s the most expensive bottle in here!”

He leans down, whispering, his breath tickling over my ear and my cheek, heating me up. “And you were worth every penny.”

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