cont from here
It took Aiden half a second to realize he was sitting across from the one and only Sylvia Lopez and less than that for a smirk to pave over his previously flustered expression. He couldnât say this was the worst sheâd seen of him. Hell this wasnât even top fuckin ten. Though he could say Plan Bâs dim lighting did her absolutely no justice. Cascading brunette locks. Piercing eyes, a rich brown so dark he found himself lost in them most nights. But now, in the light, he had a sudden urge to lean forward and see what secrets he could pluck fromâem. Now wasnât the time though. No-- plenty paid good money for a view of the latin bombshell. He could do the same later.
âYou say that like youâve been waitinâ or somethinâ,â he replied with a slight cock of his head. Sylvia was nothin if not blunt. It was refreshin to see it translate into everyday life. âYour nailsâll be fine. I think. I promise it ainât much. I just gotta send a draft to my agent and-- well--â his words cut off, the sudden imagery sending a very ill-timed twitch through his core. Fuck-- two seconds ago he was about five away from passin out and now, his mind, weak and sleep deprived, was havinâ a field day. âResearch-- yeah maybe,â his words came out raspier than expected and he cleared the gravel from his throat with a cough into his elbow, âWe both know, I ainât the type ta take advantage. But help me out here and maybe I can front your next visit to Annieâs?â he smiled, dipping to pull his laptop from his bag. It was a dell, black and looked like someone slammed it into the tumbler of a cement mixer but it worked. Kinda. âAs I was sayin, I just need one email sent. Problem is I canât type for shit right now and itâs gotta look less like a kindergartener wrote it and more like a grown ass adult. So, whatâd ya say? Help a poor guy out?â @sylvialopezâ
