Never trust a man who answers the front door wearing nothing more than a pair
of low-cut jeans and a panty-melting smirk.
That should’ve been my first sign.
I write about guys just like him for a living—sexy and charming, yet reluctant to
get into a serious relationship. His body screams sex appeal, but his
condescending personality makes him a classic fuckboy.
And I want nothing to do with that.
Writing romance novels comes with its perks—traveling, meeting new people,
creating characters from the voices in my head—but Ethan Rochester enters my
life and rearranges all my preconceived notions about writing what inspires you.
One week is all it took. One week to realize that not everything is as it seems.
One week with the bad boy, and I wanted more.
*except is unedited and subject to change.*
I’m pretty sure I need CPR or some kind of life-saving equipment.
I can’t seem to catch my breath, even though I’m breathing just fine, but the way
he just kissed me and then walked away has my mind reeling and my body
confused as hell.
His lips were so warm and inviting, I couldn’t pull away. I didn’t want to pull
away and that’s even more confusing to me than I like admitting. However, I
can’t deny the way his kiss affected me. The way his body pressed against me. The
way my body responded to him like I was some desperate sex-deprived woman.
I’m not by the way. Stupid traitorous body.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when I leave and walk out the back door.
Quickly glancing around to make sure Henry isn’t following me again, I walk
down the garden path and head back inside the cottage.
I don’t have time to think about Ethan and that kiss, I remind myself.
I don’t have time to analyze the way that kiss made me feel, I also remind myself.
But fuck. It was a really good kiss.
But why did he kiss me? And why did I kiss him back?
Ugh! How dare he kiss me like that!
My mind is all over the place, I can’t keep up with my own thoughts. His proposal
repeats in my head. I’m talking myself out of his offer then I’m talking myself into
considering it. Would it really be so bad to have one night of fun while I’m here?
What am I even saying?
I palm my forehead, trying to smack the oxygen back into my brain.
This man is making me second-guess everything and is driving me absolutely
crazy! I write about heroines who have one-night stands or who fuck a guy after
just meeting them, but that isn’t real life. At least not for me. I’ve seen first hand
what jumping into a relationship based off sex can do to a couple and it isn’t
pretty.
Deciding to march back over there, I don’t bother knocking before letting myself
back in. I stomp my way upstairs even though I have no idea where he went, I’m
not thinking straight anymore. My heart is racing but I’m determined to give him
a piece of my mind.
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