Page 55 of The Love Interest
I unfasten the top buttons of my blouse, angle my legs to the side, and hike up my skirt to reveal my bare thighs and the over-the-knee socks and knee-high boots. And then I lean forward.
Take that, Professor.
He frowns at me, shakes his head again, and looks back down at the menu.
Fine, then. Be that way.
I hold my pose.
Look at me.
Look at me.
Look. At. Me.
Fine.
If he won’t look at me, I will send him a text instead.
ME: Hi there.
I continue grinning at him as he pulls his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. It must have vibrated. Against his butt. He knows I sent him a text, and he’s going to read it!
Shit. I should have written something sexier.
ME: Hi there, sexy.
EMMETT: Stop it.
ME: Why? It’s your personal phone. You can just delete my messages.
EMMETT: Stop texting me. Stop undressing in the middle of a diner. Just stop it.
ME: Come over here and make me stop it, Professor.
EMMETT: Seriously. Knock it off.
ME: Why so serious, Professor?
ME: OMG you look so mad! It’s hilarious. This is exactly what you look like right now.
ME: Nobody who can see us texting even knows we’re texting each other. CHILL.
EMMETT: This is what you look like right now.
ME: Yeah, but you still think I’m hot.
EMMETT: That is irrelevant. I’m deleting all of these texts as soon as I get them, FYI.
ME: Sex.
ME: Sexxx.
ME: Sexy sex sex.
ME: Hot sexy sex.
EMMETT: Stop it. This isn’t funny.
