Read Online Hollywood on Tap by Avery Flynn - Free Book Online Page B

they’d taste. “You argue about everything.”
    “Only when I’m right.” She winked playfully and twisted on the couch to face him, bringing her knee in contact with his.
    Heat, tension, and something he didn’t want to define strung his body tight. “You ever wrong?”
    “It’s been known to happen.” Her thumb traced around the bottle’s opening as slowly and deliberately as she toyed with her necklace.
    Her pink lips were so kissable, so inviting, so damn close and getting closer with every inch he leaned toward her.
    “Sean.” She whispered his name as her eyelids began to drop and her mouth to open. She set her beer down on the coffee table with a hard clank—and foam rushed up the bottle’s neck like a geyser and poured across the table. “Shit.”
    Sean grabbed the collar of his T–shirt behind his neck and yanked it over his head so he could use it as a towel to stop the flow of beer before it ran off the edge and onto the floor. He sopped up the suds, gathered the material into a ball, and hustled it over to the kitchen, where he dropped it with a wet thud into the stainless–steel sink.
    Natalie sat as still as a statue on his couch, her eyes round with surprise and a flush turning her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry…I…uh…”
    Only then did Sean realize he was now standing shirtless in front of his boss, the woman who he shouldn’t give two rats’ asses about but still wanted to impress.
    You, Duvin, are doing a real fucking bang–up job of that.

    Natalie refused to down the rest of her beer in one gulp, no matter how badly she wanted to relieve the hundred–year drought in her mouth.
    Sean wasn’t the first man she’d seen shirtless in all his Apollo–like glory and, God willing, he wouldn’t be the last. Still, the sight of his six pack and hard pecs wouldn’t be something she’d forget anytime soon and, for once, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
    They just stared at each other, heat as potent as anything they brewed up at the Sweet Salvation Brewery nuking the air between them.
    Look away, Natalie. Look away!
    But she didn’t. Even blinking became a crime against nature. She took in his broad, well–defined shoulders, the thick muscles curving his biceps, and the trail of dark hair that traveled from his bellybutton to behind the top button of his low–slung jeans. Her bra tightened, the unlined lace chaffing her hard nipples, and a honey–thick river of desire flowed through her veins until her heart pounded like a kettledrum in her ears.
    “I’ll be right back.” Sean spun on his heel, his rubber–soled work boots squeaking against the polished wood floor, and took off up the metal staircase leading to the loft.
    He was gone before the first embarrassed flush bloomed in her cheeks, but once it did, the sun paled in comparison to the heat making her face pulse. Her fingers flew across the pearl necklace in time with her rushed heartbeat, and her eyes darted around Sean’s house.
    The exposed bricks that should look worn and dirty instead seemed raw and unflinching. The unapologetic simplicity of the open–space design offered up a what–you–see–is–what–you–get vibe. Add to it the slate–gray, dusty–red, and wrought–iron color palette that didn’t have even a dab of compromise. All of it together was a testosterone palace screaming out at Natalie that she didn’t belong here.
    Like she didn’t know that already.
    She needed to ignore the giddy feeling in her stomach that started whenever she was near Sean and finish what she came here to do. Then she could get the hell away from Sean, his dude’s dude house, and his sinfully lick–o–licious abs.
    Grabbing her red pen and her notebook, she blocked off a three–column chart, making the first column half the size of the other two. That felt better. Nothing like a little organization to ease the uncertainty of life. Across the top she wrote Date, Problem and Those Present. The knot at the