Page 63 of Mr. Hook-up

The other half, the more dominant side, was Drake.

Not a single thing in my office—not my email, my ringing office line, not even the knock on my door—could pull me out of the trance I was in as I replayed last night’s kiss.

Watching it over and fucking over in my head.

Knowing she was only down the hall, in her office, was driving me mad.

I wanted to see her.

I wanted to be around her.

I wanted to smell her in the goddamn air.

I didn’t know why, when I’d climbed into bed long after my shower, I ached so goddamn hard for a woman I barely knew. But inside, somewhere deep, it felt like we’d spent years together.

Like I’d already kissed those lips.

I’d already grabbed that waist.

I’d already inhaled that scent off her skin.

And all that did was increase my desire to have more.

What would she look like in the morning as she cozied up on my chest, her body freshly fucked from a night of orgasms?

What would she sound like as I trailed my lips down her stomach just as the sun peeked through my blinds?

What would she taste like if I spread her across my kitchen counter after we shared the breakfast I’d made her?

“You want to talk about it?” I suddenly heard.

Talk about it?

I glanced up and Grayson was standing halfway between the door and my desk.

I hadn’t heard him come in. I hadn’t even felt his eyes on me.

“You didn’t answer my knock,” he said. “I knew you were in here, but whatever I was going to talk to you about isn’t nearly as important as what’s on your mind right now.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Easton, look at yourself.”

I was gripping the strands of my freshly gelled hair, my lip raw from the way I was grinding my teeth across it.

I dropped my hands onto the desk and released my lip.

“Go on. Talk. You need it,” he said, taking a seat in front of me.

I didn’t want to tell him about Drake. Besides, there was nothing really to say. We’d kissed, nothing more. And even though he wasn’t the lecturer—that was Holden—I didn’t know where things were going to lead, so it was stupid to even mention it.

“Something strange as fuck happened last night,” I said. “I got home from the bar and there was a message from Love. She’s back in town ... and wants to meet.”

I didn’t have to remind him of who Love was. Both guys knew. She’d been mentioned plenty over the last five-plus years.

“Did you respond?” he asked.

I took a breath. “Yeah, I told her I wasn’t interested.”

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