Page 18 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
The hallway is narrow, and we’re standing closer than what’s considered appropriate for colleagues. Friends. Whatever it is that we’re becoming.
“It definitely turned around,” I murmur, my gaze traveling up the line of Aspen’s neck to her plush lips, which she wets with a quick dart of her pink tongue.
I remember exactly what her mouth tasted like . . . ginger ale and lime. I wonder if she tastes like red wine now. My breath hitches in my throat and my heart rate quickens, pumping blood and a flood of desire to my groin.
“For me too.” Her voice is low, her pupils wide.
All signs are pointing toward her being interested. And while I know I shouldn’t even allow myself to entertain the idea, I can’t help but wonder what she’d be like in bed.
I take a step toward her, towering over her petite frame. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath when she sighs.
“One hot kiss aside,” she says, her tone casual, “nothing more can happen between us. Okay?”
“You think our kiss was hot?”
She smirks. “Alex, focus.”
“Focusing,” I say, my voice rough.
“I’m serious.” Aspen chews her lower lip. Damn, that’s distracting. “There’s too many people involved.”
I nod once. “Understood.”
Her gaze lingers on my lips even as she steps into her room. With one last unreadable look, she closes the door softly behind her.
Fucking hell. If my pants were tight before, now they’re downright uncomfortable. I scratch the stubble on my cheek that’s suddenly itching to get out of my skin.
I retreat into the bedroom across the hall and toss my bag on the bed. There’s no way I can possibly go to bed this early. What do I do now? Watch some porn, try to jerk off? That doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.
In the adjoining bathroom, I twist the shower knobs, turning the water on full blast. Then I pull my shirt over my head in one rough movement and kick off my shoes, socks, jeans, and boxer briefs. When I step into the shower and take my dick in my hand, I’m already hard as a rock. No surprise there.
I let the hot spray ease the tense muscles of my shoulders, coaxing me into some semblance of calm as I rub my shaft up and down slowly, until I can’t take slow anymore and begin moving my closed fist faster. Shamelessly, I think of Aspen, the soft push and pull of her lips that night we kissed, the moan she made with my meat in her mouth at dinner, the thought of having a rebound fling with my ex’s assistant . . .
Fuck.
A wave of pleasure shoots down my spine as I work my cock. I feel the spark closing in on me, the telltale thrust of my hips against my pumping hand.
When I come, hot and thick over my knuckles, it’s her name that comes desperately, silently, from my lips. And when I wash the evidence down the drain, it’s with an unspoken prayer that this will be the end of it. One hot kiss and a quick jerk-off in the shower, and I’m cured.
But deep down, I know better than that. It’ll take a hell of a lot more to cure me of Aspen Ford.
6
* * *
ASPEN
After an exceptionally restful night’s sleep, I awake to the smell of bacon and cinnamon. Alex must be cooking again, and that makes me smile more than it should.
Last night, I lay in bed thinking about all the things I’ve been told about him. Arrogant. Selfish. Asshole. Player. Unreliable. But none of them line up with the man I shared dinner with.
He cooked for me. He was thoughtful enough to rescue my book from the deck. And he cleaned up all the dishes, despite my protests that I could handle the kitchen. Plus, he made me smile, and he called my ex a piece of shit for breaking my heart.
I fell asleep with a smile on my lips for the first time in months.
Who would have thought that Alex Braun would be the one to give me a little freaking hope in my life?
I stretch before I get out of bed and make a note to ask Saint what brand of pillows he buys, because these aren’t just pillows, they’re little clouds of heaven. Then again, I probably couldn’t afford them, so I guess I’ll just enjoy them while I can.
In the bathroom, I inspect myself in the mirror. I look rested, and I guess I should be. I went to bed awfully early last night because I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. Hanging out with my boss’s ex seemed a little weird, especially after he made me a delicious dinner.
But dinner wasn’t weird, so maybe hanging out wouldn’t have been weird at all. But it should have been. Right?
