SNEAK PEEK: The Negotiator by Avery Flynn

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May 3, 2017 by Evelyn Summers

A teasing promise lit her eyes. “And I never would have guessed you didn’t have any experience working with your hands.”

Now that was just a straight up lie. “I never said that. You know very well that I’m good with my hands.” He reached out and tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear, letting his touch linger. “Very good.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away as his fingers trailed down the soft column of her neck. Her pulse thrummed under his touch and one glance down at the hard peaks pushing against her thin T-shirt confirmed she was skating along the same fault line between sanity and lust that he was.

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“No.” He didn’t flirt. That was Hudson. Sawyer was the grumpy brother. He never flirted. Still, his hand didn’t drop from where he was touching her and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her perfect pink mouth.

“Of course not.” She leaned forward, cutting the distance between them, so close he could feel her soft breath against his skin. “That would violate the contract.”

The temptation to dip his head the few inches to kiss her had his entire body hard and wound tight with anticipation. Lust ran through him like a runaway freight train. The little voice in the back of his head screaming that this was a bad idea suffered the same fate as it had in the supply closet last night: death by ignoring. Clover Lee had that effect on him. It was going to be a very long month and a half.

“The napkin didn’t say anything about flirting,” he said.

No, he was totally free to give himself blue balls the size of watermelons every time he came near his personal buffer.

“Ah-ha!” The triumphant sound escaped her lush lips as she straightened, expanding the space between them and dislodging his hand from her soft skin. “You are flirting.”

Was he? No. He was torturing himself. That was a very different sort of hell. “You take all the fun out of things.”

“No way.” She shook her head, the movement letting a few more silky strands loose from the knot on the top of her head. “I am the definition of fun. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in your office banging on your keyboard.”

“I don’t bang.”

“Not me, you don’t,” She shot him a cocky smirk. “It’s in the contract.”

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