SINNERS LUST

CHAPTER {2}

As if he can feel my eyes on him, Mark chooses that exact moment to look over his shoulder. The room tunnels, and an invisible thread pulls tight between us as his gaze locks with mine I inhale sharply, feeling punched in the gut. Gone is the boyishness of his face. Gone are the lanky arms and legs. It's still Mark staring me down, but Mark the man.

Mark 2.0. Mark maple-glazed and covered in sprinkles.

When he realizes it's me, he turns his body out to face me and leans one elbow against the mahogany bar. The jacket of his slim navy suit protests at the strain and pulls tightly against his broad shoulders.

He's wearing a white dress shirt with the top button undone, showing a small triangle of skin that whispers he spends a good amount of time in the sun. His dark-brown hair is mussed and wavy like tides in the ocean. Confidence drips off him and zaps all of mine away.

Suddenly, my dress is too small. My hips are too big. There's no breeze blowing through my thigh-gap because I don't have one. The dress dips too low in the back, and I'm worried that the little bit of fat that normally ripples under my bra is visible even though I'm wearing stick-on cups. Is red even my lip color? This was supposed to be my power outfit.

If I looked hot and powerful, I'd feel hot and powerful inside. It's not working, though, so I have no choice but to fake it I shoot out an invisible S.O.S. to all the boss babes of the world and beg them to telepathically send me all of their feminist strength. When Mark's mouth tips into a smirk, I don't smile. When his dark eyes skim over me, I don't flinch.

And when he straightens to his full height, re-fastens the middle button of his suit jacket, and starts stalking toward me, I don't drop to the floor and hide under the table. But I really, really want to.

"Oh, shoot! He's coming over," says Sophie "Listen, there's a lot you should know-"

"Shhhh," I hiss back at her. "I have to use all of my energy to look confident and irresistible." I haven't broken eye contact with Mark yet, and although I don't like that he just saw the frantic exchange between Sophie and me, I'm glad

he knows I'm not running from him.

My stomach jumps into my throat as he gets close, and I think I might be sick. I hate that I was expecting Elmer Fudd, and instead, I'm getting Adonis.

He's closing in on me now, and so is the music, and the rapid pounding of my heart, and Sophie's French manicure. I rip my arm from her dramatic grip and break eye contact with Mark only long enough to give Sophie a look that says

don't embarrass me! She recognizes the warning, because she's given it to me often. It's how we keep each other from becoming the next meme circulating the internet.

I turn back to find Mark right in front of me, hands in his pockets, smirk dialed up to one thousand, and gaze burning a hole through my face Mistake number one was looking away from Mark

Mistake number two was ever underestimating my greatest opponent.

Mark's eyes used to be the color of mud. Now, they are deep pools of hazelnut spread rimmed in 90% dark chocolate piping.

"Dia Bug," his voice rumbles at me-southern drawl a little less than it used to be, but somehow sexier and...NO! No. No. No.

This is not how this was supposed to play out. I am the successful one. The one who fought tooth and nail to become an entrepreneurial success. The one who had to jump in the air while squeezing myself into the highest-powered

shaping underwear I could find so I could stun my nemesis with my faux smooth form. How am I supposed to crush him under my stilettos if he's towering over me like that?