Craft (The Gibson Boys #2) by Adriana Locke
They’re not quite enemies. Not really friends. More like frustrated balls of sexual tension and neither will give in.
Lance Gibson drives Mariah Malarkey absolutely crazy. He uses her office like a phone booth, takes cupcakes from the corner of her desk like she baked them just for him. She didn’t. Maybe she knew the history teacher happened to love peanut butter icing, but that was purely a coincidence. All sixteen times.
Mariah has a way of getting under Lance’s skin too. She calls him out on his crap, spoils him even if inadvertently, and seeing the librarian in skirts drives him wild. She won’t give in. It’s for the best, really, considering there’s no way he could lie to a woman like that and he’s not about to tell her the truth about himself. Not in a million years.
These two don’t hate each other. They don’t really like each other. But for this to be a friends-to-lovers story, they have to start somewhere, right?
Note: This can be read as a standalone novel.
Excerpt Craft (The Gibson Boys #2) by Adriana Locke
Nerdy Nurse: I’m going to have to pull out.
Working the tie around my neck with one hand, I lift the phone with the other. No photo, not even a real name, just a silver-grey profile picture with a bright pink set of lips pressed into a kiss. Why this generic image representing a woman I’ve never met makes me smile, I’ll never know. But, in my thirty-some years of life, I’ve learned not to question every reaction. There’s no fun in that.
My fingers swipe across the screen, the upturn of my lips firmly in place.
Me: Isn’t that my line?
Nerdy Nurse: Very funny. Are you always so … quick?
Me: Only when excellence calls for it.
Nerdy Nurse: Now you’re making me regret this thing that came up.
My fingers stall. Hovered over the keys, I re-read her words.
This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever done. Carrying on this little conversation-ship with Nerdy Nurse isn’t, on the surface, my idea of a good time. I downloaded this dating app to keep from having any words ending in -ship. Yet, our back-and-forth is something I look forward to. Her wit and curiosity, her intelligence, is something that I crave. Even though we make plans to meet nearly every week, one of us will inevitably cancel. I’m okay with that because it means a continuation of this little thing we have going on.
Do I want to meet her? Abso-freaking-lutely. I want to fuck her so hard, so soft, so thoroughly that she’s ruined for anyone else. Until then, I’m good with this messaging thing. Strangely.
Adjusting my cock inside my khaki’s, I grab my briefcase and head into the kitchen. The coffee pot has one last cup left in the bottom and I pour it into a travel mug before flipping off the switch.
The clock on the stove shines the time my way in a bright, red warning that I’m going to be late. With a nod that way, I place my things on the counter and pull out my phone again.
Me: I bet it’s going to be harder for me to get it down than you, if you catch my drift.
Nerdy Nurse: The pitfalls of being a man.
I can’t even type the words without a chuckle.
Nerdy Nurse: What would we be if we weren’t rescheduling? Ha! I’m not sure what shift I’ll be on after tonight, so I better not commit quite yet.
Me: A woman after my heart.
Nerdy Nurse: Not exactly what I’m after. Hearts make me squeamish.
Me: Keep talking dirty to me.
Grabbing my things, I manage to get to the car and into the driver’s seat as her chat bubble flickers as she types on her end.
Nerdy Nurse: Blood is pouring onto the floor as we speak. Dirty enough?
Me: Blood makes me squeamish.
Nerdy Nurse: The guy before this had gangrene. Should we try that?
Me: You’re twisted.
Nerdy Nurse: I really need to go now.
Me: You know where to find me. At the top of your matches.
Nerdy Nurse: And to think you started at the bottom. If I hadn’t changed my preference from biographies to historical reads, you might’ve stayed there.
Me: Is that where you like it? The bottom?
A quiet groan passes my lips as I imagine her sprawled out under me. I wonder what she looks like, tastes like, what her voice sounds like as it moans my name. The scent of her sweat as it drips down her chest, the feel of her skin damp from her arousal.
Flicking on the car, the clock blazes the time and I know I’m already a few minutes behind. I need to get out of the garage, but her chat bubble bounces again and my mind imagines her tits, round and firm, bouncing in front of my face.
Good god. Get a grip.
Nerdy Nurse: Taking notes?
Me: Every good student takes notes.
Nerdy Nurse: And here I thought you told me you were a teacher.
Me: You can’t teach what you don’t know and I never stop learning.
Nerdy Nurse: Such a nerd answer.
Me: Looks like we’re a match then.
Nerdy Nurse: I was hoping for more … alpha.
Me: I hate that modern society thinks nerds can’t be alphas. Who runs the world? Who wields the true power in the universe? Nerds. We just don’t go flexing around about it.
Nerdy Nurse: Sounds like the start of a syndrome …
With my foot on the brake, I shift into reverse but still don’t back out.
Me: Are you talking medical to me? Let’s go back to the dirty part. I liked that better.
Nerdy Nurse: Bye.
Me: Don’t get cold feet on me now. I was just getting going.
Nerdy Nurse: You’re exhausting.
Me: You’re still responding.
Nerdy Nurse: You’re so full of yourself.
Me: Bet you wish you were full of me.
/Nerdy Nurse offline
My phone hits the leather seat beside me with a thud.
As I wait on the garage door to open, thoughts of Nerdy Nurse begin to fade away. They’re replaced with thoughts of work and, most importantly, what I’m doing on my lunch break.
I just hope there’s peanut butter icing involved.