I couldn’t stop smiling.
It was ridiculous—embarrassing, even—but every time my mind replayed last night, my lips stretched so wide my cheeks actually hurt. I lay there in the soft morning light of my penthouse bedroom, covers pulled up to my chest, staring at the ceiling like some lovesick teenager who had just been kissed behind the bleachers.
Except what Lucas and I did went far beyond kissing.
“Oh my God,” I whispered into my pillow, kicking my feet like an i***t.
My whole body tingled—warm, sore in the sweetest way, humming with memories of his hands, his mouth, his voice whispering things that should’ve made me blush but instead made me lose my mind.
I pressed both palms to my cheeks.
Thirty-five years old, CEO of an advertising company, supposedly a serious, composed woman—and
