What do you get when you cross one feisty secretary with one determined billionaire?
My name—Jace Harlow. My business—making billions.
I’ve got it all.
Money.
Confidence.
Sexual prowess.
I know—I’m quite a catch. At least to most women. But Lily Conrad isn’t like any woman I’ve met before.
Damn her and that red dress.
Now all I think about is her. All I fantasize about is her—her smile, her laugh, her long legs wrapped around my waist.
My dilemma, you ask? She doesn’t care that I’m a billionaire. And why should she? It means nothing, tells her nothing about who I am.
Lily Conrad doesn’t know what I’m made of, but you can be sure of one thing...
She’s going to find out.
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Excerpt
A light sound takes me out of my own
head. I look to my left, and what I see robs me of my breath. I stand taller,
suddenly unable to remember my own thoughts. A profile of porcelain skin, a
sharp nose, and—Jesus—a full red lip
claim my attention. Hair the color of amber piled high on her head, soft
tendrils frame her face. I want to let it down, comb my fingers through it, see
if it’s as soft as it looks…and I keep looking, because it’s impossible not to.
The smooth lines of
her nape are set in grace, my tongue already mapping the perfect path down her
skin. My eyes keep going because there’s no stopping them now. Moving lower to
the dress, the color is a deep red, the neckline plunging. Being six foot one
has its advantages. Even from the side, I can see the dip of cleavage. I lick
my lips, already begging for a taste, wanting to know if she’s as sweet as she
looks. Then I continue on, because wild horses couldn’t drag me away. I need to
see more.
Unfortunately, as far
as skin goes, the rest is covered by the floor-length gown. Whoever she is,
she’s stunning, and I can’t stop staring. She has pleasure and sin written all
over her. I’m hard now. My body ready to do what is instinctual to me.
For the first time
in…well, forever, I want to be reckless. I want to throw her over my shoulder
and drag her to the nearest closet. Sift through all that red, lush fabric and
find her pussy. Put my mouth there, sweep my tongue across her clit. Drag an
orgasm out of her that makes her see stars, makes her see no one but me. I
laugh under my breath because that would be a first.
As if she knows what
I’m thinking, she turns my way, and I’m knocked on my ass. My first thought: I
want to get down on my hands and knees and thank God for this gift from heaven.
Jesus. If I thought she was gorgeous
from the side, head-on, she’s exquisite. Her eyes are a moss green. No, no—that
description will not do. Because that doesn’t begin to describe soft sage
peppered with golden yellow flecks. They’re clear and…wait, vulnerable? Or…I
don’t know, apprehensive? How can a creature so beautiful be so scared? The
million-dollar question—or in my case, the billionaire-dollar question.
When I realize I’ve
been staring too long, I force a word from my lips. Any word will do at this
point. “Hello.”
Just brilliant, Jace.
“Hello,” she says
back, almost reluctantly. “Can I help you with something?”
“Pardon me?”
She gestures with one
hand, long fingernails painted red to match her dress. Red: it’s a bold color,
feisty—daring, even. I wonder if she’s adventurous behind closed doors, if she
likes to fuck on desks, up against walls. I wonder if she enjoys taking it in
what I’m sure is a perfectly curved ass. I sure as hell want to find out. I’d
relish the opportunity to have her mile-long legs wrapped around my waist,
grinding on my cock.
“You were staring at
me.”
And thinking
salacious thoughts, but I won’t mention that.
“I was?” It comes out
like a question when there is absolutely no doubt it’s the truth.
The corner of her
mouth turns up, but it doesn’t match her eyes. What is that I see? I want to
figure it out, and then I want to take it away for her.
“Did you have a
question?”
“A question?” Did I
even ask a question? Why is my brain not computing? I never waver, but this
woman is throwing me off my game.
Maybe she can read my
thoughts. Perhaps she knows the question inquiring minds want to know: How does she like to fuck?
I’ve been silent too
long, imagining all the different ways I could bring her to orgasm, and now it
looks like she’s holding back a laugh. I want to hear what her laugh sounds
like. Is it high and melodic or low and raspy?
“Yes. Did you have
one?”
I can feel the crease
slash my forehead. “I’m…”
An idiot. Confused.
Tongue-tied by your beauty.
Yeah, that’ll do.
Her eyebrows lift.
“You’re…”
I clear my throat and
step into my confidence once again. Then I edge closer, the scent of something
floral floating under my nose. “Tongue-tied by your beauty.”
She actually laughs, and here I thought I was
smoother than that. But hey, I made her laugh, so point for me.
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