Page 64 of Shark’s Edge

I’d almost called him on it. Okay, probably more than almost. I’d damn near begged him for it. How I’d wanted him, in every dirty, decadent way he was inferring.

Yet I’d let him usher me out his door, complete with my dazed senses and my needy sex. Somehow, I’d finished my deliveries through the rest of the building, but I barely remembered doing so. No wonder, since every inch of my bloodstream felt like neon rope lights and every breath in my lungs became an open temptation to scream.

Instead, I concentrated on the contacts list in my phone—more specifically, on one name.

Sebastian.

Just standing there, imagining my fingers typing a text to him, made my chest throb with twice the agony as before.

What the hell was I supposed to say, anyway? Sure, the truth was a good place to start—but actually doing it? Actually tapping out the words?

Hey there. Before you start packing, I thought you might want to know that I snore sometimes. And oh yeah, I’m a virgin.

Oh, dear God.

“Anyone in the mood for a train wreck?” I mumbled. Because today hadn’t brought enough of those already. But as my thumb hovered over the Send key, my screen switched to signal an incoming text from him. And a smile broke out across my lips.

Hi there. Pesky neighborhood asshole here.

My giggle was instant, bouncing off the walls of the mercifully empty elevator. I gulped it down, ignoring the hot blush and tremoring fingers that followed. For Christ’s sake—all this from a text message. Somehow, I managed to tap out a reply.

Hello again. Neighborhood sandwich goddess, at your service.

I’ve always dreamed of being serviced by a goddess.

Flattery will get you everywhere.

My new giggle was fed by substantial nerves. “Oh, my God.” This was such strange territory for me. Even in my early teens, long before my mom died, I rarely ventured out of the friend zone with boys. Having four brothers gave me a distinct advantage to understanding the male mind-set, but that didn’t always bode well in the dating department.

Those same brothers had impossibly high standards for potential suitors, which meant my affections often went unrequited. Silver lining on that? I was never in a position like this. A slave to my phone screen—and the merciless charge of my damn libido.

I’d never been this scared to death, either.

Or so freaking exhilarated.

So full of wild, giddy life.

This was like that first ride on Space Mountain, when you pull back in to the platform and you don’t know whether to laugh or throw up, but you know for damn sure you want to go around again.

My breath hitched as the little dots from Sebastian’s side of the conversation started dancing again. And then stopped.

Are you still in the building?

I bit my bottom lip, once more debating my answer. And then . . . not.

I just finished lunch rounds. On the elevator down to the lobby.

My delay in his office had only lasted fifteen minutes, but I’d taken advantage of the extra time to stroll through my deliveries as if floating through the clouds his kiss had taken me to.

Well, send the thing back up.

And the heaven he now beckoned me back to.

I’m already ten minutes behind.

But you’re still in my building.

Only the top thirty floors are yours. So technically . . .