Tristan
My cock was as hard as nails.
Isabella had spent some time in Sebastian's office, discussing hell-knows-what. I expected her to leave immediately after to do whatever the fuck she does when she is not pissing me off.
However, she slotted herself beside me on the living room couch while Sebastian made an excuse to buzz off with the promise to return in a minute. I knew it was an excuse as soon as he said he had urgent business. Hell, I knew my best friend better than anyone.
And the woman who had decided to take advantage of my wait to strike up a conversation with me was not making it more agonizing than Sebastian wasting my time.
Her scent assaulted my nostrils. It was everything like her—gentle but leaving a lasting impression. It smelled floral—not like a rose, I was certain, but something close.
Great. Now I was turning into a damn perfumist and I had to rearrange my crotch every time she shot me that smile.