We’re nothing but labored breaths and swollen lips as I lift my head, seeing his furrowed brow as he looks at me with amused surprise.
I blink a few times, realizing what just happened.
“So, that was for TikTok?” he asks with a tilted head.
I nod.
He looks to the side and grins. “Did you get what you needed?”
I nod again.
“Are you happy with how your video turned out?”
Because I’m a woman of many words, I nod for a third time.
“I’m gonna go now.” I rise from the couch and march through his apartment, out the door, and straight into my own, slamming the door and leaning against it.
“Well?” Charisse asks when she sees my expression that I’m sure is like I just saw a ghost.
“We definitely cannot post that video!” I state as I adamantly shake my head.
Melody and Charisse both stare at each other in question.
“That bad?” Charisse asks.
I hold up my hands in front of me. “I need a minute. I’m trying to figure out why the best kiss of my entire life just happened with the hot guy next door while I was fulfilling a freaking internet challenge.”
A knock comes from behind me.
I freeze and listen as Jake’s deep voice echoes from the other side. “You forgot your phone.”
I close my eyes as I pull myself together. Outwardly, of course, because, inside, I’m a heart-pounding mess.
Pushing my shoulders back, I lift my chin and open the door as coolly and calmly as possible. Jake’s standing here with a Cheshire cat grin, holding my phone out to me.
“Thanks,” I say.
I’m about to close the door when he puts an arm out, keeping me from shutting it.
“And, Lace,” he says, and I hold my breath. “It’s called the Kissing Best Friend Challenge.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He grins. “We’re not best friends, so I suggest, when you post it, you change the caption.”
“To what?”
“I just had the best kiss of my life with the guy who lives next door.” He winks and then turns. He heads into his apartment and closes the door gingerly.
I slide open my phone, ready to hit the Delete button on the video when I see my text messages are open. Jake forwarded the video to himself.
I close the door and turn to Melody and Charisse, who are staring at me with slack jaws and wide eyes.
That is, until Charisse throws her arms up in the air and declares, “Best. Freaking. Idea. Ever.”
Melody rolls her eyes and then grins in my direction. “It was a really bad idea … but a really, really good one too.”
I’m not only screwed. I’m also twisted.
Chapter Ten
Whatever my feelings are about that kiss last night—which, trust me, I have many feelings about that kiss—there is one thing that’s for sure: it lit a fire in my belly.
Charisse and Melody left soon after, and I couldn’t sleep. Hell, I couldn’t sit, but I made myself.
Opening up my laptop, I stared at the screen for a mere second before I started typing.
The words flowed easily, my fingers dancing rapidly along the keys. My brain was raging like wildfire, and I couldn’t type fast enough. I’d never written so much, so fast.
The characters came alive off the page. The hero is a sensitive yet charismatic artist who finds joy in the simple pleasures of life. The heroine is a schoolteacher who is afraid of being hurt again.
Their connection is intense, and their romance is pure magic.
I give all the credit to that kiss.
Last night, Jake ignited this thing in me. I can still taste the mint of his tongue and smell the fresh scent of his cologne. My hands burn with the touch of his heated, soft skin, and damn, my body is still reeling from the sensations that were shooting through me.
I used him as my muse. Hell, my hero’s hair even morphed from brown to blond, and those blue eyes are now a chocolate brown. I praise myself for never fully explaining him in previous books so I can change him now.
I used everything I find most charming about Jake and put it in these scenes, flourishing a hero unlike any other. The literary prowess was alive last night, and I was a creative machine.
Until now.
I’ve hit a freaking wall.
Again.
The first time the couple met—which was epic, by the way—came easily, and their physical connection is heart-pounding. Now, I need them to start building their love connection. It’s the get to know you more than just physically phase of the relationship. I have no idea what to have them do next.
Maybe I’m just tired. Plus, I stink from the adrenaline. I need to regroup.
In the shower, I try to think about my story line. Some ideas come to me, but they’re not solid. I can picture a good scene, yet I don’t know how to get there. I can’t figure out how it will play into the story. Everything that’s coming to me is fluff, and there’s no meat there. No angst. No grit. No panic of the heart from wondering, Will they or won’t they be together?
After my shower, I make myself some coffee—only because if I open wine I know I won’t get anything done—and sit back down, pulling my laptop up to me. I read over what I wrote, as that sometimes sparks some ideas. When I get to the end of the last scene, I still have nothing.
The knock at the door stirs me from my seat. There’s only one person who knocks without having to be buzzed in first, and that man just so happens to be someone I was hoping not to face today. At least, not yet. I still need time to process the state of our friendship.
As I walk to the door, I pray it’s not awkward.
When I open it, I see Jake standing in the hallway. My heart instantly starts to pitter-patter just from the
