Page 43 of Our Little Cliche
“You mean like twiddling my thumbs in my peasant’s office booking you flights around the country, or cooking and cleaning,” Holly retorts, glaring over her shoulder again, and ignoring my question completely. When she notices that my eyes have not broken from her, she speaks again with a tilted brow, “That job?”
Smartass.
“Wow, do I keep youthatbusy? God, I ought to go easy on you. Thumb twiddling iswayout of your qualifications, Miss Cate.”
The last of my chardonnay melts into my throat with ease, the gentle sweetness fuses perfectly with its dryness, sending the temperature in my body to rise…unless it’s her that’s causing it.
She tilts her brow, then stirs that dangerous playful manner. “Well I’d like my job better if I was keeping an eye on that manuscript of yours,”
“I bet. But it’s not ready. What about your last one?” I repeat the question, diverting from my current book at all costs.God, I’m so stupid.Why did I think continuing to write a book that looks, sounds, and feels likeherwas a good idea? And when she reads it—for oh I don’t know,her fucking job—she’s for sure going to think I’m a freak. Or worse, tell Quinn.
No. That won’t happen. She won’t know it’s her.
“I’d rather not bore you with the books I edit, it’s not exactly agenrethat you like.”
Oh, sweet angel. You havenoidea what I like.
Stupidly, I close the distance between us while she faces the other way, just enough that my cheek is lingering by ear. “And how would you know what I like?” The skin of her shoulder is soft as the back of my hand brushes across it to reach over her. “You’ve never asked me.”
I wonder if she’s thinking aboutmygenre. She never brought it up after that night I saw her… preoccupied… other than telling me it wasdifferent, a good story, but different.
Tension cracks through the air again, far stronger than the last. I lean into her heated body a little more, reaching for the bottle of wine that is inches from where she sits, using that as a decoy for my movement. Shewantsme to make a move. I can feel it by the way her shoulders drop, and her once steady breath now at a complete halt.
Evidence of her sheer disappointment is her sigh when I retreat, thinking that grabbing the bottle is all I was trying to do. Am I teasing her, or myself at this point?
Great.
Now my cock is throbbing.
I sit in the same spot I was a second ago, staring at her shoulder blade and side profile. When she finally speaks her voice is broken, hanging on the edge of sexual frustration. “I just assumed you’re more of a… dark roman?—”
I tsk. “Miss Cate, you assumed wrong.”
“What isyourgenre, then?”
“Ilovelove. Particularly where he falls first. I’m a sucker for a pining romance. But now that we’re on the subject of dark romance, you didn’t give me much feedback onIn The Shadows. What did you actually think of it?” She toys with her bottom lip, but doesn’t bite down, her eyes looking anywhere but me.
“I… umm.” She shifts and I tilt my head, waiting for her to answer, or look at me at least. “I?—”
“Did you actually read it or were you just saying it was good,”different but good,“to shut me up?” I ask, even though I know that she did read it. I saw her with my own two eyes, and it’s a vision that’s burned into my memory.
Her face glows to a shade similar to the tomatoes on the vines in my garden. “I did. Yes…” The way her voice comes across is almost like she has revolt stuck in her throat like she hates the book, but then clenches her thighs together. Is she ashamed of how much she liked it, or did she come to her senses and actually not like the book?
“Was itthatbad?”
I frown, scratching my head with a tense jaw. Have I gotten this all wrong again?
“No. No, it’s just?—”
“You can be honest with me. If it was too dark then I understand, I won’t be offended if you didn’t like it. But if you didn’t then you probably won’t like any of my future books either.”
“It’s not what you think, Cyrus,” she hesitates, twisting the hem of her sleeve.
Hearing her say my name the way that she did sends a direct signal to my balls. “Then what is it?”
She turns to face me fully, taking a big breath inward, holding it for a moment. “It was my first dark romance. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it to be honest. I actually loved it.That’sthe problem.” A resounding breath escapes her mouth again like she has just taken the weight of her shoulders.
Then why is she acting like she hated it?
