She only has one rule...
[WATTYS SHORTLIST 2022]
A buttoned up bookworm agrees to a fake relationship with a surprisingly literate male model in order to save his career. She only has one condition: No kissing allowed.
***
At age 27, Cora Glass ha...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cora stretched, luxuriating in the smoothness of the sheets against her skin. She couldn't deny a sense of triumph. Not so much that she saw Jamie as some kind of conquest. No, more like she'd conquered her own overactive brain. She'd succeeded in giving control to her more primal instincts, at least for a little while.
And it was every bit as good as she'd anticipated.
A saucy smile played across her lips. Cora could still see the afterimage behind her lids when she closed her eyes. A Michelangelo come to life, the way that sculpted torso flexed and moved, each and every time he rocked his hips... Perfect. Or as close to perfection as Cora had yet to experience, outside the realm of fantasy.
She owned that image now, in all its vivid detail. It was hers to keep. She could lock it away in her memory, ready for playback any time she wanted, long after she and Jamie had gone their separate ways.
Even the kissing hadn't ruined it. Nothing like the last time she had kissed someone—that finance bro Penny had set her up with back in NYC. Tonight with Jamie was like kissing another species altogether.
She'd only felt that way about a kiss a few times in her life, in the throes of her deepest crushes. That swept away feeling, with enough lovely chemicals pulsing through her brain to override her hardwired sensory aversions. It was like that with Steven too in the beginning. Delicious while it lasted. But Cora knew too well how the feeling always faded. The initial fire inevitably burnt down. Only in fantasies could a flame burn on forever and never run out of fuel...
Cora sighed, suddenly aware of her current state of undress. Stark naked to be precise, in all her jiggly, cellulite-riddled glory. Not that she disliked her body, but nobody would be carving any marble statues in her honor.
She had no idea where her panties had ended up. The sheer black cover-up lay in a heap on the floor, and her limbs felt too gelatinous to go retrieve it.
She should probably force herself to get up. Jamie had slipped away to the bathroom after they finished, with one last lingering kiss and a few mumbled words that her brain had somehow failed to process. He probably meant that as her cue to vacate the premises and beat a hasty retreat to her own bedroom before he returned.
Cora would have complied, if she hadn't felt too boneless to move. For now, she lay contemplating the possible location of her panties, fishing around for them beneath the covers with one toe, until the creak of the bathroom door heralded Jamie's return.
He turned off the bedroom's overhead light switch as he re-entered. Only the bedside wall sconces cast the interior in a dim glow. He had donned his nightly bedtime uniform: a pair of dark blue boxer briefs. And, in true gentlemanly fashion, he came bearing gifts. A washcloth dangled from his hands, along with a broken-in white t-shirt from his suitcase. These items he offered up for her consideration as he eased beneath the covers by her side.
