Look the Part

by Jewel E. Ann

There’s something thrilling, even a little forbidden, about a man in a perfectly-tailored suit. Flint Hopkins wears the hell out of a three-piece suit.

“I don’t know what to do with this image of you in jeans and a tee. In my mind I imagined you wearing a suit to bed.” He sits back on his heels and turns toward me, dark eyes making a full-length inspection. “I don’t know what to do with the image of you imagining me in bed.”

She smells like the forbidden and tastes like my newest addiction.

She grins like the snake-charmer-to-my-dick that she is.

“Sometimes the world ends and forgets to take you with it. I get it.”

She tastes like forgiveness and feels like freedom.

“Ellen, you can grab your coat and purse so we can go to lunch and a movie like I told Harrison we would be doing, or you can stare at me like that and we’ll be forced to play my favorite game in lieu of lunch and a movie.” Her gaze meets mine. “What’s your favorite game?” “It’s called Fuck Ellen.”

Another overlooked wonder of the world: bringing someone complete, intoxicating happiness.

I want this life. I want Flint showing me his appreciation for baking. I want Harry grinning when he sees cookies on a cooling rack. I want passionate kisses promising long nights of being tangled in each other.

I love her messy red hair, those eyes … the freckles. She’s the fucking package of all packages.