Page 90 of Sour Notes

He's just being a friend. A great one.

And that’s all I want from him.

Liar.

That’s my line and I’m sticking with it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I force a wide smile on my lips, arching a brow at him.

These eyes aren’t threatening to gush like Niagara Falls. Nope.

“You subscribe to Blush Magazine? You’re not our usual target demographic. Although I guess it’s probably good for the sex tips. I know they’ve helped a guy or two.”

His grin morphs into a scowl and I chuckle, instantly more comfortable reverting back to our usual status quo.

“Son of a”—the growl that rumbles out of his chest is stupid hot and doing allllll the things to my... ahem. “I don’t need sex tips, Mia. You sure as shit didn’t think so when you were bouncing on my cock. I had to smother your screams, if you recall.” He pauses, ripping a hand through his hair. “And FYI, I don’t wanna know about how it’s helped other guys fuck you. I subscribe to read your articles. That’s all. They’re funny as fuck. And I like to support my friends.”

He slides his sunglasses off his face, his crystalline, sharp eyes focused on me, daring me to question him again.

Swallowing hard, I stay silent, watching the veins in his forearm flex while he white-knuckles his phone.

The air around us thickens, sparking with danger the second our eyes lock. The way he looks at me doesn’t feel too… safe.

Or friendly, for that matter.

I’m not sure if it’s the sun, this place, or the situation, but Swayze flips from one mood to another faster than I can skim read a paperback, and every single one brims with barely restrained tension.

Move on, Mia. Don’t toy with the big bad Wolff unless you want him to eat you.

Oh god.

Now my mind is flooding with images of Swayze’s face between my legs. It has to be the sun. Maybe it’s heatstroke, because this is ridiculous. Shuffling backwards, I squeeze my thighs tighter under my laptop and drag my burning face away from his to stare blankly at my screen.

Rule ten is taunting me like a premonition.

Something’s definitely drooling.

It’s just not my fucking mouth.

20

SWAYZE

Sharing the bed for one night has me fucked already.

One goddamn night.

What was I thinking, chilling out beside her on the pool bed this morning?

Spoiler alert, I wasn’t. I just can’t help but want to be near her.

Even while lying here, the ocean glittering ahead of us, the sun reflecting on the pool, in absolute paradise, all I see is her.

Her tanned thighs shining in the sun, reminding me of how she slept curled into me all night. The way she threw that leg over mine, exposing that delicious ass, barely—and I mean barely—covered in tiny black lace panties.

Her hands fly over her laptop, long fingernails clicking away furiously. Those same nails dug into my chest while she slept, like she was trying to claw her way into my heart, as if she wasn't already settled in there.

I’d have more hope of Hell freezing over than of extracting her.