Текст книги "Sudden Desires"
Автор книги: Shanora Williams
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Sudden Desires (Sweet Promise #1)
Shanora Williams
Contents
Copyright © 2015 Shanora Williams
Other Books By Shanora Williams
1. FOLLOW SHANORA
2. ONE
3. TWO
4. THREE
5. FOUR
6. FIVE
7. SIX
8. SEVEN
9. EIGHT
10. NINE
11. TEN
12. ELEVEN
13. TWELVE
14. THIRTEEN
15. FOURTEEN
16. FIFTEEN
17. SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
18. EIGHTEEN
19. NINETEEN
20. TWENTY
21. TWENTY ONE
22. TWENTY TWO
END OF PART ONE
FOLLOW SHANORA
Copyright © 2015 Shanora Williams 
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Published October 2015
Editing by Librum Artis Editorial Services
Cover Art and Design by SK Hartley
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Other Books By Shanora Williams
Standalones:
Tainted Black
BEWARE Series:
BEWARE
BEWARE 2: The Comeback
FireNine Series:
Who He Is
Who We Are
Who I Am
Who I’m Becoming
Hard to Resist Series
Hard to Resist
Hard to Hold On
Hard to Forget (1.5)
FOLLOW SHANORA
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ONE
Griffin
My wife is unappreciative.
She’s neglectful and selfish.
Whatever I do for her is never good enough.
If I bring her flowers after I’ve had a long day at work, she scrunches her nose, reminding me over and over again that she hates them. I know she hates them, but I always figured it’s the thought that counts.
“They only get in the way, and then they die and we’re left with a withered mess,” she’d say.
Regardless¸ I’ll have Arianna toss them in a vase and leave them on the counter in the kitchen.
There are times when I’ve busted my ass on a deal at work, staying up late at night, making calls for hours, and then flying from Miami to New York to finish the job.
I’d get a hotel, shower, jump into some relaxing clothes, and the only thing I’d want is to hear is my Colette’s beautiful voice.
I can admit that it is usually late when I make the calls (around midnight) but I know she’s awake. She paints a lot for the gallery. She’s a late worker, hardly even sleeps because she’s always creating something.
I’d call and she’d answer, claiming she’s too busy to talk. All I want is an “I love you, I miss you, hurry home”, but I don’t get that. Frankly, with Colette, I get nothing whatsoever anymore. I can’t even remember the last time we had sex.
That trip to Cancun, I think?
It was a vacation I’d planned four months ago, in April, but she didn’t enjoy it. She complained about there being too many tourists and not enough “breathing room.”
We spent most of our time in the hotel suite, and so it was pretty much obligatory for us to have sex. We were alone in the room and drank a few glasses of expensive wine. We both needed it.
I guess the fun was good while it lasted.
We could blame it all on our sexless marriage, or the fact that we’ve been together for ten years, married for seven of them, and bored for the past five, but either way, I try. I really do.
Like today. I’m in the kitchen. It’s my day off. A pot of coffee has been brewed, French toast, bacon, and eggs all set up on the table.
I sit at the table with my tablet, reading the latest on stock numbers. NASDAQ is dropping again. Trouble for me. Lots of calls to return tomorrow.
I’m sure my associates are flipping their wigs right now.
I sigh, and then I hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen. When I look up, it’s Colette.
She looks good, hair up in a tight gold bun, her makeup simple—just around the eyes. Mascara and eyeliner, a bit of concealer, and lip-gloss. She’s wearing workout gear, earphones plugged in her ears. She’s humming some tune by Lana Del Rey.
She sees me at the table and blinks, confused. Pulling out an earphone and frowning, she asks, “What is all this?”
I stand from the table and meet at her side. “It’s called breakfast, Colette. Join me.”
“Oh no.” She shakes her head and waves a hand with disapproval. “No, honey. I can’t eat that fatty food. I’m dropping ten pounds for the salsa competition next month, remember?” Her voice is winded as if she’s worked out and is tired already. She rubs my arm, and disappointment sweeps through me but I step away, nodding as if I understand. Honestly, I don’t. A little bacon won’t hurt anybody, right?
“Okay,” I murmur. But really I’m thinking, whatever. “Have fun. Keep it tight for me.”
She laughs. “These days, as a woman, I have to learn to stay in shape for myself. My dance instructor, Rico, tells me that my body is my temple. I should take care of it. Worship it. And then there’s you to consider too.” She laughs.
It’s meant to be a joke, but it’s a shitty one.
“Hmm. I guess.”
She plugs her earphone back into her ear, picks her keys up off the key holder, and then collects herself at the garage door. When it swings open, I expect her to turn back and say goodbye, see you later. Maybe one of those I love you’s. Like I said before, I don’t get any of that anymore.
She just leaves.
The door shuts, and I stare it for several seconds before swinging my eyes over to the food on the table. I haven’t eaten yet. I waited for her to join me.
I’m sure it’s no longer warm, so I put two slices of French toast and bacon on a plate and toss it in the microwave.
Arianna steps into the kitchen with a broom in hand. She has her black hair pulled up into a ponytail, her tan face crinkling with the wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks.
She observes the kitchen, her dark-brown eyes then dropping to meet mine. “Mrs. Boyd is gone already?”
“Yep,” I sigh. The microwave beeps and I take out my food.
“You made this?” Arianna asks.
“I did. For Colette.” I meet her eyes as I sit at the table. She looks down at me, pity swimming in her eyes. I don’t need it, so I hold my hand out, offering her some. “Come on, Ari. Take a break. Eat with me.”
She smiles. “I can wait until lunch. Are you sure?” she asks, hesitant.
My lips press, forming a stiff smile as I pick up my fork. “Positive. Have as much you want. Someone might as well enjoy it, right?”
She grins, taking the chair across from me. She grabs a stack of French toast and eggs, the orange juice, and asks for me to slide the syrup across the table. She digs right into her food, nodding and smiling. “Good,” she garbles out, mouth full.
I smile, and as I watch her eat, somehow it makes my stomach churn, the smile slipping away from my lips.
This isn’t supposed to be what my mornings consist of. Sharing breakfast with my housekeeper instead of my wife? How did it get to this?
What am I doing wrong?
I have a great cock. I give good, deep strokes. I know it. I blow Colette’s brains out every time we fuck—whenever that happens anyway.
I treat her like a queen. I give her whatever she wants.
I come home weary almost every night when I don’t have to travel and if her back aches, I massage it, relieving her stress even though I’d just been wrapped up in my own.
I care for my wife, I do, but I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Being alone.
Feeling abandoned.
Feeling like I’m always wrong.
I want my wife back. I want her to try too. I want the same love I express in return. I want us to be happy again.
That’s not too much to ask, is it?
My phone rings on the glass table, pulling me out of my cluttered thoughts. I look down, spotting Kelly’s name on the screen. Kelly is my personal assistant. Unfortunately, Kelly is also man.
Colette wasn’t comfortable with my first assistant, a blonde bombshell I had to admit, but I didn’t think of her that way. Her name was Olivia. We worked together; she kept up with my shit. She was way more organized than I could ever be.
She was really good at her job, but I had to let her go, all because my wife didn’t want to wonder about how I spent my late nights at work… and also because she’d complained to my father-in-law.
I answer the phone with a sigh. “Kelly?”
“Sir,” he says into the phone. “The owners of Stratford and Clark are here a day early.”
“What?” I sit forward in my seat. “What made them want to come today?”
“I’m not sure. I told them it was your day off and that I am only here to double-check on a few files, but they won’t accept. They want to settle the deal with Quarter Banking today or they think the deal will crash. They seem to be in a bit of a rush, too. Well… one of them.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m coming in. Tell them to give me twenty. Try and keep them satisfied.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up, sliding my cellphone into my pocket and pushing my chair in. Arianna looks at me with big eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Fine.”
“You’re going to work?” she asks, picking up her orange juice.
“Yes.” I shrug. “No days off, right?”
She looks disappointed, giving me that motherly look she always does when I seem a bit overwhelmed. I guess that’s why I adore Arianna. She reminds me of my mother.
She’s kind, sweet, and understanding. She doesn’t judge me—not even Colette. She sees the best in people, a quality I wish I had. “Everyone needs days off, Mr. Boyd. Especially you.”
“Yeah, well… not today. I’d much rather be working than spending my free time chasing after Colette… though I’m sure she doesn’t care.”
“She loves you,” Arianna assures me as I shrug into the jacket.
There she goes… always seeing the good. She’s witnessed firsthand the damage Colette can do with her words and actions and yet she still defends her. And no, it’s not because she works for us. It’s just how she is. She’s one of those people that always looks towards the bright side.
“Yeah, well, I’ll wait until she shows me proof of that.” I pick up my keys from the key hook by the garage door. “See you later, Arianna. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”
She nods with a press of her lips.
I step out, jumping into the Maserati and starting the ignition. It’s a fifteen-minute drive to get to Boyd Enterprises, an extra five with the Florida traffic.
I’m certain I can make it in twelve.
I step into the building, feeling a sense of pride as I’m greeted by a few employees.
The women smile and bat their eyelashes at me. Most of my female employees are drop-dead gorgeous, allowing me a little stare here and there.
It comes in handy on days like this, when my wife is doing everything possible to avoid me.
Unfortunately they don’t work anywhere near my floor or office. No ogling throughout the day for this man.
They work on the other floors, assistants of the men or women who handle stocks for smaller companies. Or “beginners” as we call them. The smaller ones are usually just starting out. I only handle the larger ones.
I hit the elevator, pressing the quarter-sized button for floor sixteen. The very top floor. The doors start to close, but a female voice fills the area, catching my attention. “Wait! Hold the elevator!”
I press the button and shoot my hand out between the doors before they can meet.
A woman appears outside the elevator, out of breath. She stumbles into the elevator on six-inch heels when the doors slide completely open, rushing her way to the opposite corner of me.
Panting, she fixes her silky brown locks and then her shirt. Her eyes are fixed on the buttons of her blouse as she mutters, “Damn it,” beneath her breath.
I straighten my tie, looking her way. Now she’s making me feel disheveled. Her button has popped, a pair of full, perky breasts on display.
She starts to look up but I look away immediately before she can catch my eye..
“Sorry,” she murmurs when the doors finally close.
“For what?” I ask without looking at her.
“For holding you back.” She fidgets and is quiet for a moment. “I know exactly who you are. You own this place, right?”
My brows draw together and I finally look over to her. Out of all the colors out there, I’m not expecting to meet eyes as blue as hers. They’re basically see-through—like glass—like I can see right into her soul… only something about her doesn’t allow complete access. They’re aqua, just like the ocean water we live only miles away from.
“Yeah,” I finally say when she cranes her neck a bit, awaiting my response. To keep myself from looking any more foolish, I extend my arm and offer a hand. “Griffin Boyd. Owner of this goose chase,” I say, smiling.
She returns it. “Angelina Clark.”
“Clark?” My eyebrows lift. “You’re here with Stratford and Clark?”
“Yes,” she says rather quickly. “Well, I’m here on my brother’s behalf. Stratford wanted to get the deal wrapped up today while my brother wanted to play nookie with his lady-friend.” She rolls her eyes. “Sorry—I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She makes a face, one full of embarrassment. “Since we are associates for the time being I trust you not to say anything.”
“Not my problem or situation,” I say.
“Anyway, I’m sort of his side-kick with all of this, only I know more about this job. Dad only handed him the top position because he figured a ‘man’ needed to play the role as co-founder and CEO.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “We’re twins.”
“I do see the resemblance. He never told me he had a twin.” I look forward again, watching the floor numbers go from twelve to thirteen. “Running late?”
“No. I’ve been here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and I catch a whiff of her scent. Honey and vanilla, a touch of lavender. “I ran out to the car. Forgot one of my folders.”
“Oh.”
She sighs, doing the same as I do and looking ahead. Through the corner of my eye I can see her stealing glances of me. Even in her high-heels, she is still pretty short.
During our entire ride up, I try getting myself to not think of what is in plain sight.
Her body.
That figure.
Her face.
This girl, Angelina Clark, is fucking stunning.
She dresses clean, sporting a nice tan blouse and a pencil skirt. Her hair is done nearly to perfection, her smile contagious. Wicked straight teeth and the most striking blue eyes I have ever seen.
This woman’s looks alone could bring any man to his knees. Powerful sex appeal that would make the same man commit murder in order to keep her. What was God thinking when he created her?
“Do you think Quarter Banking will give in?” she asks. “We’re all a little skeptical of it, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m not sure. They seem hesitant now. I’m sure it’s because they saw the drop in the NASDAQ. But don’t worry. This deal wouldn’t have gone the way it did without Stratford and Clark’s persistence. Just a little more pushing and we’ll have them.”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Hell, if we get it, drinks are on me tonight! I could really use one after the week I’ve had.”
I chuckle. “You and me both. Trust me.”
The elevator chimes and when the doors draw apart, I allow her to walk ahead of me. She knows exactly where to go, walking straight down the hallway and stopping at Kelly’s desk that is only a few feet from the waiting area.
She looks towards Neil Stratford. The uptight jackass in the terribly tailored black suit—the one Kelly probably mentioned as the impatient one.
I greet him, and he only nods. Like I said, he’s a jackass.
I take out my keys, going for my door behind Kelly’s desk.
Kelly hops up. “Sir, before you go in I wanted to let you know that Mr. Jenkins, has called. Said he’s been trying to reach you.” I nod, doing my best not to roll it off my shoulders.
“Thank you, Kelly.” There’s a reason he can’t reach me. My father-in-law is testing my nerves, pressuring me to move to New York so I can get closer with Wall Street and him. Truth be told, I don’t want to get closer to Wall Street… or him for that matter. I want to stay as far away as possible, and Florida is just fine.
I enter my office, taking out my cellphone and checking the call log. Two missed calls from my father-in-law and the other from Colette. She has to wait, but I wonder what she wants.
Angelina follows me into my office, looking around and observing its modern appeal. “Nice,” she remarks.
Pulling out my chair, I sit down, dropping my briefcase on the desk. Neil walks in moments later, his cellphone in hand. “You saw the drop today?” he asks.
“This morning. It will go back up.”
“If we don’t get Quarter today, we might miss out on thousands of dollars. This deal will be worthless with all we’ve spent—all the work we’ve done.” He’s worried. Always so fucking worried. Why can’t he just let me do my job? I extend my arm to both of them, offering the seats across from me. “Relax, Neil. Sit. Please.”
He blows a thick puff of breath, dropping in one of the chairs. A few seconds pass before I realize Angelina hasn’t taken a seat. I look her way. She continues a small stroll by the window.
“Miss Clark, should we get started?”
“I’d prefer to stand right now. Keep my blood flowing. Thanks, though.” She flashes a pearly smile that makes my cock spasm.
I straighten in my seat, clearing my throat as I pull out a stack of papers and pretend it didn’t just fucking happen.
“I have the plan written out,” I start. “I’ve been in touch with Bob Brinkman at Quarter. He says he’s 98% on board with us. The other 2%, I’m sure, is just his nerves. He’ll come through. I’m going to call him again in just a minute.”
“No, call him now. Let’s get this thing done so I can sleep a little easier tonight.” Neil’s frustration is on full display. It’s no wonder he can never make a deal stick.
Their business came to me for a reason… because they need me. Why he works around the stock market honestly confuses me. It’s clear Angelina’s brother, Scott, is the reason their business has survived for this long.
Just because Neil’s father partly owned the business and handed it down to him doesn’t mean he couldn’t have sold it to do something else—something he wanted to do.
But because Neil didn’t know what the hell to do when he first started, he let Scott handle everything, giving Scott the role to call shots and soon become part CEO.
“I’ll get to that, Neil, but you have to understand that Quarter Banking is new and they are vulnerable. If they feel like they are bleeding and sharks are circling them, that they’re waiting to be fed on or attacked, they won’t budge. Allow some time to pass, see if the stock for Wall Street builds back up.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Whatever you think works.” Neil grunts, his eyes swinging to Angelina. He observes her, mainly her ass.
I look towards her. She’s standing in front of the window that gives a clear view of the ocean and the towers to the left.
She’s not even listening to us, at least that’s what I think until she says, “He’s right, Neil. They are new. They just opened shop last year and are thriving. We have to let this one breathe. We have to gain their trust. It’s a bank after all and banks have very strong lawyers. They have to be very precise when it comes to this stuff.”
“We don’t need anyone trying to sneak in and steal our business,” Neil says. “It’s bad enough we are letting them call the shots. They aren’t going to tell us if there is someone else they think might be an option.”
Angelina turns, her face going stiff. “Jesus, Neil, you’re just like Scott. Calm down. Let it breathe. Like Mr. Boyd said, he will handle it and when he does the deal will be sealed. I’m certain it will.” She looks from him to me, those piercing eyes locking on mine. With gentle, mellow eyes and a wicked curve of her lips, she asks, “Right, Mr. Boyd?”
“Right.” I look away. I can’t keep staring at her.
I’ve come across plenty of women that show interest, most of whom are very vague about their attraction towards me, but Angelina is different.
She likes what she sees and she presents it without fear, but it’s strange because she’s also holding back. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re business associates, or because she knows I won’t feed into it too much.
My stomach twists, and not in a bad way. “All right. I’ll make the calls and see where we are at with them. In the meantime, you two can hang out in my office, maybe have Kelly run over to pick you up some lunch. He won’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind going to get it myself.” Angelina moves closer in my direction as I stand with my cellphone in hand. “There is a little Italian place I’ve always wanted to try. You could always make the calls to Quarter there, right? We can all go.”
Neil shakes his head rapidly. “No. I’m not hungry. I’m going to give Milo a call, see if he can set up that meeting with Carter.” He pushes out of his seat, rushing from my office in a big, sloppy hurry.
I watch until he disappears, shaking my head. “Your partner is way too antsy for this business.”
Angelina rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re telling me. Guy’s a douche. I hate that we have to share partnership with him. What were our fathers thinking?”
I laugh.
“So, should we grab lunch before we get started?”
I blink twice before dropping my head. When I look back up, she’s on the opposite side of my desk, her arms crossed tightly and her breasts popping out of her blouse.
A hint of allure swims deep in those aqua irises, making my chest tighten and my throat work hard to swallow down the attraction. “Actually, I think I’ll take the call in my office. It’s quieter. I also just ate not too long ago.” That’s a lie. I didn’t eat much, but I’m not hungry.
Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “Oh. That sucks. I really wanted to try the place. Don’t want to look like a total loser eating alone, but if I have too, I will.” She grins and shrugs, dropping her arms and stepping aside.
“You know, if you order the food I can have Kelly pick it up. I’m sure the kid is bored out of his mind by now. We won’t have much work to do until Quarter falls through… if they fall through.”
“They will.” She nods. “I mean, if you think about it, no one can cut a deal like you, Mr. Boyd. We’ve all heard great things. Honestly, the reason Scott wanted to work with you is because I recommended it. He trusts my instincts and you have yet to fail us. Business is actually better than ever. I’m sure you will get Quarter.”
“Hmm.” I fight a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”
She looks around my office again, pushing off my desk and starting a mini stroll. “I guess it would be smarter to hang out in here. Have the lunch picked up.”
“I’ll buzz Kelly. Do you know what you want?”
“Yes. I checked out the menu online while we were waiting for you. The spinach tortellini with Alfredo sauce. Sounds so delicious right now.”
“What place?”
“I think it’s called Cleo’s.”
“I know exactly where you’re talking about.” I press the button and call for Kelly. When he pops between the doorway seconds later, I tell him to call Cleo’s and order the spinach tortellini meal for Angelina.
“Oh, and breadsticks!” Angelina adds. A girl who isn’t afraid to eat? She just keeps making herself seem more and more irresistible.
Kelly takes off seconds later, and Angelina settles in the chair opposite of me. I blow a sigh, scrolling through my list of contacts. “You don’t talk much, do you? I mean, about stuff outside of work?” she asks.
“I like for my work life and personal life to remain separate.”
“Too bad,” she says, and I peer up as I sit again. “I can tell something is bothering you. Something personal. But I’m pretty sure you won’t talk about it so I won’t waste my breath.”
I narrow my eyes at her, head tilting. “How can you tell something’s wrong with me?”
“Stiff shoulders. Hard eyes. Clipped tones. You seem… irritated. Like this is the last place you want to be right now. All clear signs of annoyance.”
“Maybe I am, but when it comes to my work I’m fine.”
She folds her arms, her eyes shifting down to the ring on my finger. “Marital issues? Kids?” she muses.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble.
She continues looking my way, watching as I rake my fingers through my hair. “Scott told me you don’t have kids… I was just pitching shit. It’s your wife. It’s always the wife.”
I glance at her before looking down at my phone again.
“You know, I don’t get it,” she sighs.
“What is there to get?”
“If you men are so unhappy with your lives and your marriages, why waste time? Why not move on?”
I drop my phone, folding my fingers on top of the desk. “Move onto what exactly, Miss Clark?”
“Well, to me, it seems rich men only marry so people will take them seriously.”
“My wife and I have been together for ten years, married for seven of them. You really think we care what others think after all this time?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. How many of those years were spent despising one another? Doubting one another?”
I scoff, sitting back in my chair. “What do you know?”
“I know I’m not foolish enough to marry a man just so I can call someone my husband. I’m not dumb enough to marry a man unless I know I truly want to be with him.”
Her eyes lock with mine, the air around us thickening with static heat. She studies my face, my locked jaw, and then a smile sweeps across her pink lips. “Mr. Boyd… you should ease up around me. I’m a blabbermouth. I can admit it. Even if you tell me to shut up, I won’t shut up. It’s just how I am, and it’s also why I’m so good at my job.”
“You interrogate and instigate. Make people feel comfortable yet strange in their own skin. Wrong and right.”
“I only do it when someone looks like they need to express themselves.”
I fold my arms.
“So talk,” she goes on.
“Not much to talk about, Miss Clark.”
“I’m sure there is so much you’d love to discuss, you’re just afraid of facing truths. I know, trust me. Men hate getting their egos shut down, especially wealthy men. What is it? Your wife didn’t go and get that Brazilian you wanted so you had to put up with eating a hairy vag?”
I fight a laugh. This woman is outrageous. “Nothing of the sort,” I laugh.
“Well, what is it then? Now I am beyond curious.”
“It’s nothing, Miss Clark. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You look unhappy, Mr. Boyd.”
“Maybe I am,” I say. “But that wouldn’t be of your concern. I can handle myself. You, on the other hand… well, you just seem flat-out lonely.”
“I am not lonely,” she retorts.
I lift a swift brow. “That was a pretty quick response. Are you sure?”
“It’s the truth. I don’t mind being by myself. I don’t have to care for anyone’s feelings outside my own.”
I chuckle. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that your mantra?”
“Ha. Screw you, buddy,” she titters.
“Well, is it true? Because only a lonely person would say they don’t like to care about anyone else’s feelings.”
“I don’t like to care for anyone’s feelings. Is that so bad?” She folds her arms across her chest.
“Nope. Been there. Done that. It gets boring.”
She presses her back against the back of the chair, looking around my office for the third time. “I can tell your wife helped you set this place up. Has a woman’s touch.” She’s changing the subject, but it’s okay. I’ll play along.
“Not my wife. My mother. She only helped with the décor and wall colors.”
“Smoky gray… ehh. I would have gone with a light shade of blue. Better for the eye. More welcoming. Why add gloom on top of gloom?”
“What are you trying to say?” I crack a smile. “That I’m a gloomy person?”
“You have your tendencies.”
My head shakes. She’s hilarious. Really.
“You know,” she murmurs, sitting forward and making a face, “you really shouldn’t be so miserable. You are a great businessman that shows respect and has everything he wants and needs. Most people are envious of that, but me. I find it kind of… hot—but that’s just my take.”
“I think you could do better than a man like me.”
“Nah.” She sighs. “All the good ones are either taken or gay.”
I laugh as she does, and as our merriment settles, our eyes remain glued, heat building in my chest. She smiles at me, biting on her lower lip.
My cock has a fucking mind of its own, now straining against the zipper of my tailored pants. I don’t know why. She’s hardly done a thing.
Perhaps it’s the way she plays innocent, but deep down I know she’s probably a freak behind closed doors.
She’s right about one thing. She doesn’t shut up. She is a blabbermouth. She doesn’t hold back. I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“Mr. Boyd, we really should have caught that lunch together,” she whispers.
“No,” I state, but it’s flat and lifeless. There is no meaning to it. Just a simple word in the air. “Here is fine.”
“Too bad,” she breathes, her voice now a seductive rasp. “I think it would have been great to get to know someone like you.”
“Business, Miss Clark,” I say under my breath. “This is business.”
“I know,” she agrees. “That’s what makes this much more exhilarating. But you’re right.” She holds up two hands, as if pausing on everything. “Let’s focus on work. Are you going to make that call, or what?” Her brows raise and a smile touches the corners of her lips.
I study her face, my heartbeat picking up in speed. She’s grinning now, dropping her gaze, and allowing me to ogle her.
Her legs are crossed, her skin appearing satiny smooth beneath the rays of sunlight. Her teeth are still clinging to that juicy, plump bottom lip.
She sucks in and then releases, making me wonder what more she can do with that mouth of hers.
