Judge Me, Abby Knox [i love reading txt] 📗

thought of anyone so much as looking at Chloe suggestively makes my head explode. I have to kiss her again to settle my raging blood pressure.

Chloe’s full lips drown me in bliss. Yet I can’t help but recognize the fact that a perfect, innocent young thing like Chloe should be kissed by a good boy her own age. A respectful young man with a similarly sunny outlook who isn’t annoyed with the world at every turn. Someone who doesn’t want to possess her and keep her in his pocket. I shouldn’t be so gratified to know I’m the first one ever to kiss those lips, but I’m wickedly delighted to know I’m also the last. Because now that she’s here, I’m never letting her get away from me.

I pull her in close to me and keep kissing her soft mouth while I tug the apron ribbon at the small of her back. She pulls away to chuck the apron off and immediately pulls me back down for more mouth-to-mouth.

I can’t get enough. I want her. I want all of her—more of her vanilla and citrus scent in my lungs and her taste on my lips.

I cinch her as close to me as two creatures can get, just as her juicy tongue teases my bottom lip.

I’m absolutely doomed.

But the moment I push past her lips and slide my tongue against hers, the elevator doors open, and a sharp voice echoes in the hallway. Chloe freezes as footsteps approach.

“Phillip? There you are! We need to discuss that psychotic little tart—oh, excuse me!” My frame pivots to reveal to the director, Jamie, that the “psychotic little tart” is right there.

“Watch yourself,” I say.

Jamie tut-tuts at me. “Fraternizing? This is grounds for disqualification.” I open my mouth to set him straight, but Chloe beats me to it.

She pushes off the wall of the elevator to face Jamie. “It sure is. You should do that. Disqualify me right away and make up a reason to explain why I’m gone. I would never want to tarnish the reputation of this esteemed program.”

Jamie retracts his proverbial claws. “I just think it’s unseemly, and…and an unfair advantage.”

Chloe chirps, “I’m a terrible baker, and I’m going to lose no matter what.”

I can’t help but snort. “I hate to say it, but it’s true.”

Jamie looks from Chloe to me and sees he’s not going to win this round. He stalks away, leaving me alone—finally—with my delicious little American biscuit. Or, cookie.

“Now, where were we?”

Chapter Seven

Chloe

If the elevator were glass, the two of us would steam it up as we kiss and chat and make each other laugh like teenagers for who knows how long.

Phillip is a perfect gentleman, dammit. I was all set to have my V-card punched in an elevator—how many people can say that?—but on the other hand, I am gratified to know I might be the first person ever to make the sexy Phillip Wildwood belly laugh.

Alas, our little hookup in the elevator ends too soon, as it’s time to prepare for the nightly meeting with the director to brief us on tomorrow’s shoot.

Phillip and I decide it’s best for the show if we don’t get caught in the middle of any more interludes like today.

That night, after a quick production meeting about tomorrow’s Bread Day competition, some of the contestants invite me to join them in the village for a drink. I pass, as I’ve never been fond of alcohol. Also, I don’t want to answer any questions about my silly cookies or my obvious flirtation with Phillip.

I do not doubt that gossip is already circulating.

Instead, I go to my room, sit on the massive four-poster bed, and spend the next few hours texting with my mom and my closest sister Diana. Diana, twenty-one, is the wildest of the five of us and the least judgmental regarding my decisions.

I tell my mom about everything except the kissing. She’s still very wary of the whole situation. To Diana, I spill all the beans. Diana’s been telling me her own naughty tales for ages, and now it’s my turn. There’s a whole lot of squeeing back and forth that night over the Atlantic Ocean.

Eventually, I hear the other contestants arrive and go to their rooms. Everything is quiet after another hour or so, as we’ve all got to be awake early the next day.

As for me, I lie awake and touch my fingertips to my lips. Could they still be a little swollen from the kissing? It could be wishful thinking that he’s left his mark on me. But I swear, I can still feel his masculine arms wrapped around me, holding me tight while his mouth ruins me. I can still feel him, taste him, smell him. See his sexy crow’s feet smile at me. I’m both floating in happiness and drowning in need for more.

I close my eyes and wait for exhaustion to overtake me, but it never does.

At least, I assume it won’t until I’m startled awake by a presence on my bed.

“Virgin Mary on toast, what are you doing here!” I try not to scream and wake everyone up. Probably a hopeless cause, as everything echoes in this place.

I hear a chuckle. “Getting to know my psychotic little tart better.”

It’s Phillip, of course. “Are you crazy? This has to be against the rules.”

“Fuck the rules; it’s my house.” Lord help me, why did hearing him say that make me wet?

“Oh. My,” I say, my voice trembling.

His thick, rough fingers brush the hair away from my ear. His breath warms me in private places nowhere near that spot as he whispers, “But we do have to be quiet, love.”

I whisper in reply, “I don’t know if I can be quiet with you. I’m so excited I might squeal like a stuck pig.”

He chuckles, then scolds me playfully. “Quite an image. Well, we can’t have that. I shall have to keep your mouth occupied.”

Phillip kisses me again, but it’s different