Page 91 of Sour Notes

Believe me, I spent years trying.

But that’s not even my biggest issue right now.

Her mouth is.

Those lips will be the death of me.

She hasn’t said a word, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen. But those shiny plump lips are parted in a perfect little O.

They’re all I see.

All I want.

She’s calling to all my baser instincts and the more time we spend together, the harder I’m finding it to keep them at bay.

If she doesn’t close that mouth soon, I can’t be held accountable for my actions. I want to cup that beautiful face and watch my hard cock slip between those lips, inch by inch.

I want to stare into her stunning eyes while she chokes on it.

Everything in me needs to fuck her again.

This time with no barriers. No secrets.

The ache to come inside her is constant now.

Desperate.

Primal.

Just her and me on this lounger.

Marking her as mine under the stars.

But more than that, I want to let the whole universe know I’m hers. To see that reflected in her eyes. I want her trust and her heart, two things I know she guards with her life. If she’d let me have them, I’d keep them the safest of all.

Cool it, man. Get your shit together. You're about to start panting like a dog.

“So, uhhhh, whatcha working on today?”

Finally, she turns to me, a little smile playing on her lips.

“Ohhh this? It’s a little dating how don’t list. Apparently, Dickonomics spurred a whole wave of emails talking about worst dates, so Jen asked me to compile a little cheat sheet to help the undateables get their shit together. Which reminds me, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?” She lowers her sunglasses, spearing me with her intense gaze. Those beautiful eyes sparkle like gems, almost purple in the sun.

“I don’t date.” Not a lie.

“Oh, come on. You must’ve been on some over the years. You asked me on a date!” She grins smugly, like she’s caught me in a lie.

Chuckling, I shrug. “Angel, you’re the exception, not the rule.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, a flush blooming on her pretty cheeks.

“Yeah, suuuurrrree, Deputy Heartthrob.”

I’ve always hated that stupid nickname, but it’s even worse hearing it spill out of her mouth. It’s just another hurdle preventing her from seeing who I am. Who we could be, together.

Nope, we’re not going to spiral down that emotional wormhole.

I distract myself by peering over her shoulder at the screen, where a particular rule catches my eye.