Page 76 of The Close-Up
Simon cups his hands around my cheeks, gently turning me to look at him. I go breathless. Because right now, our faces are inches apart, we’re both panting, and I can’t help but notice the hungry look in his dazzling eyes. I’d bet anything it’s identical to the look in my own eyes right now.
“It’s absolutely not your fault that Landon is a piece of shit.” His tone is soft, but growly. It makes my mouth water. “He chose to act that way. He should have shown you kindness and support when you needed him most, but he chose to be a creep. Don’t blame yourself.”
I nod, my unblinking stare locked with his.
“He’s not even in your league, Naomi. Not even close. He was lucky you gave him the time of day.”
I swallow. “Are you going to kick him out too?”
“Yeah.”
He says it without blinking, without a tremor in his voice, without a single discernible doubt.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Naomi, I already said—”
“You’re losing business because of me.”
“Fuck business. You mean more than any of it.”
He pulls his lips into his mouth. And that’s when my stomach flips into itself. Because right now, I know he means every word he says—and it makes me want to kiss him until he can’t breathe. And everything he’s doing—everything he’s saying, the way he’s touching me, the way he’s looking at my lips like I’m his last meal—tells me he wants to kiss me too.
His hands still cup my face. For a split second, I close my eyes and hum, relishing how even on this cold October evening, I feel so warm under Simon’s touch.
I lick my lips, lean forward, and touch my mouth to his. He exhales slowly and I can practically taste him. But that’s nowhere near good enough. I need my lips on Simon’s lips, my tongue on Simon’s tongue. I want to taste him, to tease him, to savor him.
We move our mouths slowly against one another, and I relish the taste of Scotch on his soft, firm tongue. Only a few seconds in and I can feel the electricity of our kiss as it bolts through me. Through my chest, pulsing to my heart and my stomach, getting hotter and hotter the lower the sensation floats, all the way between my legs—
And then my phone rings. Again. Fucking hell.
I fall back and out of his touch at the sudden sound and hit my head against the brick.
“Ouch!”
“Are you okay?”
I nod, then dig my phone out of my purse. “Sorry, just let me turn this damn thing off already.”
When I see it’s Harper, my heart sinks. She’s calling me because of the panicked, all-caps text I sent her an hour ago. And as much as I want to ignore her call so I can keep kissing Simon, I can’t. I know Harper. She’ll keep ringing me and texting me until I finally answer her because she knows an all-caps text is equivalent to an emergency in our book.
I grimace down at my phone screen, then look back up at Simon. “I have to take this. It’s Harper. I’m so sorry.”
The way he slow-blinks then purses his lips and nods broadcasts his disappointment.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’ll get us an Uber to Nob Hill. You talk to Harper.”
I answer just as Simon backs away from me a few steps and pulls up the rideshare app on his phone.
“Hey, Harper.”
I follow Simon a few steps away to the curb and stand while we wait for our ride. We get into the car and the entire ride to Simon’s I relay my sob story to Harper. The driver stops at his apartment first and he gives me a small smile and a quick wave before hopping out of the car. I mouth, “Thanks again. Bye,” to him as I half-listen to Harper’s take on Brody’s betrayal. And then I head to her apartment, my body buzzing out of pure shock, the taste of Simon Rutler on my tongue.
Chapter Sixteen
The longer I stare at my laptop screen, the more the colors from the images on the screen blur together. I blink, then try to focus. But I can’t get anything done. I’ve been trying to edit the latest episode ofSimply Simon, but it’s no use.
That kiss with Simon last night has wrecked me. I can’t do anything other than think about it—about him.
