Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“He was normal long ago.” He looks amused.
“What changed him?”
“The money.” He laughs and shuts my door. “Have a good day. I’ll see you this evening.”
I nod and watch him drive away.
Staring up at the tower, I wait until the minute hand moves three spaces before forcing myself to go inside.
Boarding the elevator, I stare at my reflection.
“This is uninspiring, redo it.” Mr. Pearson barks at yet another team member as I step into his office. “You have fifteen minutes.”
I look up at who’s on the receiving end of his rage today and notice it’s the marketing director.
She grits her teeth and walks toward me, tucking a napkin into my purse before leaving the office.
Confused, I pull it out—spotting a note.
Thank you SO MUCH for saying what everyone thinks about him.
(Even if he never changes.)
Hopefully we’ll get to chat around here someday :-)
I crumple it and stuff it into my pocket.
Stacking today’s files, I walk over to his desk and clear my throat.
“Mr. Pearson?”
“I’m busy.” He types on his laptop. “Get away from my desk.”
“I just have a simple question.”
“I’m sure someone from the C-Suite can answer your question, Miss Clarke.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say. “Since most of my work this week has been files, I was wondering if I could take them with me to the boardroom and join the team in there.”
He immediately looks up at me. “Come again?”
“I mean, you barely speak to me while I’m in here, and it seems like you don’t really want me in your office, so…”
“So, what, Miss Clarke?”
“So…I’m thinking that I should probably work around people who I can actually talk to and in a place where I’m not subject to the boss going off on everyone.”
“Have I gone off on you?”
“Not yet…”
“So, no.” He stands to his feet. “Correct?”
“I’m not trying to argue with you.”
“Then you should’ve walked away from my desk when I asked you to.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll do it now.”
I turn to walk away, but he moves in front of me.
“As much of a distraction as you are to me, Miss Clarke,” he says, his voice terse, “no, you can’t work anywhere else except here because you and I are the only two people working on this part of the IPO.”
“We barely talk to each other.”
“We’re talking now.”
“Only because you’re upset that I pointed out how terrible you are again.” I glare at him. “You know what? Everyone on the C-Suite agrees with me.”
“You can go back to your work now,” he says. “This conversation is over.”
“Okay.” I turn away and pick up a stack of files. I stuff them into my briefcase. “I’ll be back for more later, Mr. Pearson. Thank you.”
I rush toward the door, but I can feel his heavy footsteps behind, and before I know it, he grabs my waist and pushes me against the wall.
“Back away from me,” I say, “Or I’ll scream.”
“I’ll risk it.”
His mouth crashes against mine, hard and claiming, and before I can shove him away his hand slides beneath my dress. His fingers find the soaked heat between my thighs, pressing through the thin scrap of lace until I’m gasping against his lips.
The sound only urges him on. He pushes his tongue past mine, filthy and rough, swallowing every whimper as he drags my panties aside. I moan into his mouth as he sinks two fingers inside me, curling deep like he owns me already.
“Ride them,” he growls against my lips, and I hate how quickly I obey, rocking my hips against his hand as he works me open. The wall digs into my back, his body cages mine, and all I can do is grind harder, wetter, chasing every stroke while his tongue fucks me just as relentlessly as his hand.
The slick sounds fill the air, wet and obscene, and I can feel my release coiling tight—too close, too fast—while he smirks against my mouth like he knows exactly how undone I am. My nails dig into his shoulders, desperate, begging silently for more, and his thumb circles my clit with ruthless precision until I’m trembling, on the brink of falling apart for him.
And just when I’m about to break, he rips his mouth from mine, leaving me gasping, needy, my body clenching around his fingers as he stills them inside me.
His breath is hot against my ear, his voice low and vicious.
“Take those fucking files back to your desk,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand with deliberate slowness, “and don’t ever ask to leave me again.”
THE CEO
LUCIAN
My checklist for the week is simple: stop thinking about Kendall’s mouth, stop staring at Kendall, and—somewhere in between—remember the IPO.
The moment I commit, Kendall looks up from her desk—right at me. Her lips part, like she’s about to break the silence that’s been sitting between us since yesterday, but then she looks down again.