by Amy Brent
Fucking shocker there.
But at the same time, there was this overwhelming desire. Even though I offered up absolutely nothing about myself personally, his eyes sparkled every time I spoke. His foot kept scooting closer and closer to mine like he was trying to get as close as he could. Maybe it was my third glass of wine talking or maybe it was how lonely I realized I’d been for quite some time now, but I realized what my end game was.
I realized if he offered up his home, I’d go back with him.
“Tell me, do you have plans after this dinner?” he asked.
“You mean going home and sleeping so I can prepare for tomorrow’s interview? Yep.”
“Sounds so boring. You don’t strike me as a boring woman,” he said, grinning.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Well, I wondered if you would reconsider my offer.”
“What offer?”
“The offer to accompany me back to my house,” he said.
He was leaning forward like he was anxious for my answer. I lost myself in his piercing green eyes and his chiseled jawbone. I could cut glass on the slope of his cheek, and suddenly, I couldn’t take my eyes off the veins bulging in his neck.
“I think I would enjoy reconsidering that offer,” I said, grinning.
“Wonderful.”
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Copyright © 2018 Amy Brent – All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
