Strawberry Kisses by Phavy Prieto (always you kirsty moseley .TXT) 📕

because I was unable to keep looking at that face created for the most absolute perversion, "if you want to laugh at me..."

"Believe me, Miss Acosta," he warned, interrupting me with that deeply sensual voice, "the last thing I intend to do is laugh at you."

"So what’s all this about? Why did you make this appointment?" I asked directly.

"Because I think you are the right person for what I need," he said bluntly.

"What do you need me for?" I asked.

"What the heck will he need from me?" my degenerated mind wondered through a thousand scenarios, each of which obviously included that half-naked Greek statue in bed.

Stop the earth, I want to get off. Maria, do not rush too much, otherwise you are going to crash against a wall.

"An escort," he added with a smile. "I need someone to accompany me to an event."

"And you need me?" I said in amazement.

Maybe this man is short of blonde suitors with long legs who line up at the entrance to his house... or at the foot of his bed, to be more realistic?

"I want you to be with me."

"If I refuse... will you still give me back my planner?" I asked, guessing the answer.

"No," he denied without further ado, bringing his glass to his mouth.

"This is called coercion," I said, squinting my eyes.

"Report me, if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that I'll keep your planner."

Damn this hot asshole!

"Should I just accompany you?" I asked knowing that, in any case, I would have accepted.

"Yes, you'll just have to accompany me."

"Alright," I said, taking my glass.

What is wrong, after all, in accompanying this monumental Greek statue to a snobbish event full of equally snobbish people?

"Let's toast to our agreement," he replied, bringing his glass close to mine. We took a sip.

"When will this event take place?" I asked, taking an olive and bringing it to my mouth.

"Next week," he replied without giving too much importance. "In Scotland."

I spat out the olive that ended up who knows where and stayed with my mouth wide open.

Did he say "Scotland" or was it the alcohol that began to give me hallucinations?

"You have already accepted. Therefore I will not accept your refusal now," he replied. I began to stare at him.

"Scotland?" I asked. "What do you want in Scotland?" I asked without thinking too much about how to ask the question, making him smile again.

"I thought the same too until I saw that it was a wedding invitation," he clarified. He finished his drink completely and left the empty glass on the counter.

"So is that the event we are talking about? A wedding?" I asked, taking my glass and drinking the whole content.

What on earth would I do at a wedding with Devoir?

"Don't you worry, it's just a wedding of old friends that I haven't seen for a long time, but I need to go accompanied."

"Of course, bringing a stranger is the most logical thing in this case," I pointed out ironically.

"Thanks to your planner, I would say that you are not really a stranger to me."

You're lucky that my glass is empty. Otherwise its contents would be dripping from your perfect face at this very moment, Mr. Devoir.

"Didn't they teach you the meaning of the term "privacy" when you were a child?"

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Of course, they did. But in some cases I allow myself to ignore it."

"And my planner is one of those cases?" I asked directly.

"Miss Acosta, it is you who perfectly represents one of those cases."

For the first time in my life I didn't know what to say. I stood there contemplating those brown eyes that made me get a feeling of a tornado in my stomach while I was melting completely.

"Congratulations to your mother for the masterpiece she gave birth to," I thought as I realized, from such a short distance, that his features were indeed perfect.

That night, when I went to bed, after Damian told me he would pick me up the following Friday after work, I realized that being his escort meant spending the whole weekend with him.

"Sex, sex, sex," my brain incessantly repeated, making me fantasize about that weekend when I had to sleep in the same room with Adonis.

Chapter V

I looked in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

"It's the perfect combination of the most advanced rape defence," I thought as I looked at the old knee-length plaid skirt, the flat shoes with very kitschy white socks, and the white shirt buttoned up to the collar. To complete it all, I put on a sports bra that crushes your breasts to such an extent that it become flatter than an ironing board.

"If he likes me even dressed like this, I'll kill myself," I whispered before putting on those old nerdy glasses I bought at a thrift store.

"Are you really going to show up in this condition?" asked Nerea, leaning against the door jamb of my room as she looked at my reflection in the mirror brushing my hair sloppily.

"Yes, and only because I didn't find a nun's dress in the wardrobe, otherwise I would have gladly put it on," I replied tying my hair.

Too bad I didn't also find a tasteless elastic for my hair!

I saw how Nerea rolled her eyes. Maybe I was exaggerating, but I could not afford the luxury of tolerating even one evening with that lame-o of Mathews' cousin and of him seeing me as a walking temptation. If my strategy succeeded, I would not know anything about him for the rest of my life and the Il Divo tickets would be mine.

Look at what one has to do to see those four hunks singing like angels!

"Sometimes I wonder if you made