Page 12 of Ever Mine

He opens the book to reveal the sticky notes. The incriminating pile of my secrets jotted down like would-be plot points.

Why? Why did I do that?

I should have been a normal weirdo and instead made some sort of a murder board at home. Where I could pin up all my stupid sticky notes and strings tied from one thing to the next.

Date with Robert. Tried to touch my boob, and I freaked out.

Freaked out and ran away because, yeah, that's who I am. I'm that girl.

I glance at the notebook and see that the note on top is not my handwriting.

It's cedar and bergamot.

Smug and sexy. That should be annoying.

“I might not have been talking about you,” I say.

He raises one brow.

I drop my head into my hands. “I feel like this is a fever dream of humiliation and that I'm going to wake up any minute now, and none of this will have actually happened.”

He shifts my chair—with me in it!—to face his. “Love, you cannot erase what has already happened. Let me help you.”

I peer at him between my fingers.

“For example, I can give you that toe-curling kiss.”

I sit up. “Kind of brazen of you to assume that you can provide that type of experience.”

“Brazen is precisely what you need.”

chapter

six

Thorne

She laughs, and I feel the sound everywhere. Up my limbs, through my veins, pounding in my chest. What is it about this woman that makes me feel so much? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d bewitched me.

“Okay, so you’re certain you can give me a toe-curling kiss?”

I lean forward, getting further into her space. “I am certain I can give you a kiss that will dampen your panties.”

She sucks in a breath. The black of her pupils widens, swallowing up the pretty brown of her irises.

Then she suddenly comes to her feet. “What would you be getting out of this scenario?” she asks.

Time spent with her. In her orbit. Getting to touch her, explore those plump curves that make my mouth water. Watching her fall apart. Hearing her cry out my name.

That’s what I could tell her. But that’s all too much considering we’ve known each other for less than a week. I’d rather not get hit with a restraining order for coming on too strong.

I’m still unclear what this pull is between us. I might write about happy endings, but I’ve never pursued one in real life. While my parents are still married, I’m not sure they’ve ever truly liked one another. As stereotypical as it is, Brits don’t emote very well. That’s how I was raised.

“I’m a man,” I say, as I close the distance between us. Now I’ve nearly got her pressed against my desk, though I’m not yet touching her. “You are a beautiful woman.” I let my eyes take in all of her facial features. “Why wouldn’t I want to share some pleasures with you?”

She licks her lips, and my eyes track the movements of that pink tongue as if national security depends on it.

“What about the whole virginity thing? Is that a turnoff?” she asks.