Can't Fix Cupid

He helps me off his lap, and I readjust my dress and panties while he adjusts the front of his pants. I look at his straining cock with glee.

“Stop looking so proud of yourself,” he reprimands.

“What? He likes me. It’s a total compliment because that dick is picky.”

He rolls his eyes. “How do you know?”

“Oh, you know. Tabloids. Stories. General knowledge. Plus, I basically stalked you for the past two months,” I add with a mischievous smile.

He scoffs and tightens his tie. When his hand lands on the door handle, I stop him. “Wait, you can’t just walk out there without first commending me on how good of a kisser I just was. Like...did you see that? I did awesome that time.”

That earns me another megawatt smile. “Apologies,” he says, leaning towards me and placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “Consider yourself commended.”

“Thank you.”

“Now we really need to go inside, or Tonya is going to squeeze me by the balls for bringing you in late.”

I make a face. “That sounds painful.”

“It is,” he agrees, but then he looks at me one more time and curses before leaning forward and kissing the daylights out of me again. “Stop looking so fucking cute,” he says after pulling back again.

“I can’t help it,” I say, forcing my eyes to peel open after his sexy onslaught.

He gets me so fuzzy-headed and hot. With every swipe of his tongue, I can feel how much he wants me, and that alone is heady and addicting.

I run a finger over my swollen bottom lip and attempt to finger-comb through my mussed hair, but let’s face it, I probably look like I’ve been making out in a car.

Warren legitimately groans as he forces his hands off me and reaches for the door handle again.

“How about just one more kiss?” I ask, trying my luck.

He pushes open the door while swearing under his breath again, and offers his hand to help me out. With a disappointed sigh, I slip out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

I look him up and down appreciatively in the sunlight, but when I make it to his face, I see he’s already glaring at me. “Stop giving me fuck-me eyes right now, or I’m going to end up dragging you into a supply closet.”

I throw my hands up and then let them drop again. “My eyes can say whatever they want, and supply closets aren’t that bad.”

He shakes his head at me and starts leading me towards the front of his building. “You’re going to ruin me.”

I smile. “But it’s going to be worth it.”

Chapter 22

Warren

This isn’t going to end well.

But fuck, I can’t seem to stop myself from starting this anyway.

When I saw her last night talking to that douche at the bar, I tried to tell myself that it was for the best.

We don’t fit together. We have nothing in common. She’s all color, and I’m black and white. She’s a smile to my scowl and optimistic to my usual pessimism. She’s full, while I’m empty.

I can’t do commitments. I can’t do something real. And I came to terms with that fact. But ever since I found her bare ass in my office, she’s tilted my world on its axis, and I find myself wanting again. Wanting her.

Despite my best efforts to feel indifference towards her, I can’t. I’m inexplicably drawn to her, the way wind is pushed with the clouds, and the way the moon touches the night. She’s like my very own sweet regret wrapped up in a bubblegum pink package of lighthearted life.

Which is why, right now, instead of working from my phone as I wait for Tonya to do her thing, I can’t take my eyes off her.