My cell phone rings and I grab it from the counter, giddy and light-headed when I see Sterling’s name displayed on the screen. I answer on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello, beautiful.” Sterling’s warm, silky voice washes over me.
I laugh at his attempt to be smooth. “How did it go, Romeo?”
“Quite well, I think.”
He sounds optimistic and cheerful. My stomach twists into a painful knot.
“Where are you?” he asks. “We’re still on to debrief, yes?”
Part of me wants to fake the stomach flu or a bout of chicken pox, anything to avoid having to hear about his date—that obviously went well—in all its gory detail. But of course I won’t. We agreed to this, I remind myself.
“I’m at home.”
“Great. Text me your address and I’ll be right over.”
“See you soon.” I text him my address and then head to my room to freshen up.
When Sterling arrives fifteen minutes later, I’m ready. I enjoyed my glass of wine while perched on my bathroom counter, touching up my makeup. And now I’m feeling more relaxed and prepared to hear all about his date, or so I tell myself.
He removes his jacket, and I pour him a glass of wine as he surveys my place.
“Great view,” he says, wandering over toward the wall of windows with his wineglass in hand.
“Thanks. I’ve lived here for three years. It’s cramped, but that view and the fact that I hate moving have kept me here.”
Sterling wanders from the window to the sofa, and sits, patting the seat next to him. There’s a hopeful sort of longing in his eyes, and I brace myself for what’s about to come out of his mouth.
Lowering myself to the cushion next to him, I take another fortifying sip of wine.
“Did you do anything fun tonight?” he asks.
I shake my head. “If you count binge-watching TV fun, then yes. I had a blast.”
He chuckles. “What shows do you like to watch?”
“I’m a teensy bit obsessed with House Hunters International. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly. Not to me, anyway. Would you like to live abroad someday?”
I shake my head. “Not really, but I would love to travel.”
“What’s stopping you?” He lifts a strand of my hair from my shoulder, rubbing the silky ends between his fingers. It’s distractingly sexy to watch him.
“Money, for one. Things are kind of tight right now. Someday, though, I’d love to go to Italy.”
“I’ll take you to Italy.”
I laugh. “You can’t just take me to Italy. That’s crazy.”
“Why is that crazy?”
I pull my hair back into a ponytail, and out of his grasp. He needs to stop being so sweet and attentive. Things are already confusing between us.
“Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. I want to hear about your date. Tell me, are my matchmaking skills superb?”
He takes another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine as he swallows. “She was . . . nice.”
“Nice?” That’s all he’s going to give me, after I’ve been sitting here in agony for two hours?
He shrugs. “A bit young for me. But we got along fine.”
There’s something he’s not telling me, and I intend to get it out of him. “So, you’d like to see her again?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He takes another sip of his wine, then sets down the glass.
“I don’t understand.” I set my glass beside his. “We have a limited timetable here.”
Clearing his throat, he glances to the windows again before meeting my gaze. “Did you ever want something you can’t have?”
A wave of lust rolls through me. “Yes.” My voice is just a whisper.
Sterling leans in, cupping my jaw as he guides my mouth to his. Hot and hungry is the only way to describe his kiss. His tongue slides against mine, deepening our connection, and in that moment, I’m lost to him.
He is my everything. My unrequited crush. The source of my desire. He’s the thing my fantasies are made of.
Sterling makes me wish that happily-ever-afters weren’t just for fairy tales. Because to me, he is perfection. All that cocky British swagger wrapped up in one delicious package is hot enough to make panties melt.
Wrapping my arms around his powerful shoulders, I move in closer, kissing him back with every ounce of the hot, fiery passion burning through my veins.
His mouth is hot and demanding, and when he pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him, I’m powerless to resist. The hard ridge of his cock is nestled right between my legs, and I gasp as the firm, broad tip drives me insane with hot friction.
I squirm in his lap as my rising lust demands attention. The wetness between my legs grows, and for a moment, I’m worried he’ll be able to feel it. Then I decide I just don’t care. I rock against him as we kiss, savoring each wave of pleasure cresting through me.
He makes me feel alive and desirable. It’s addicting.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he growls.
I chew on my lip, sure that’s a rhetorical question.
“The sounds you make, the way you taste. You’re so fucking tempting.”
I know exactly what he means. Never in my life have I been so tempted to say fuck it to my morals and have a dirty night of debauchery. Sadly, I know I’m not the type who can do that without regretting it in the morning. I’ve always been more of a committed-relationship type of girl. But I think I’ve been missing out on the casual fun other people my age seemed to enjoy.