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“Who are you texting?” Lacey asks.
It’s a good thing I’ve decided I am one hundred percent not sleeping with the CEO, because nothing would slip past my attentive work colleague. “My sister.” A little white lie won’t hurt. I stand up from my desk. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
What to say? “I think I left something upstairs when Penelope was introducing me to Hayley. I better go check.”
It’s a slightly lame excuse and she gives me a curious look but I’m saved when Evan calls her over to his desk again.
I stop by the bathroom on my way to the elevator. I look flushed, but in good way. In a I’m-fully-alive-and-I-get-to-see-him-again way.
Stop it.
You will remain completely professional.
You will not under any circumstances get carried away by how hot he is.
You will absolutely not spend the entire meeting thinking about how well hung he is. Or how good it felt when his big cock throbbed inside you as you came together.
I reapply my lipstick and smooth my hair.
Lacey is chatting with some colleagues over their partitions.
I straighten the skirt of my dress as I walk past them to the elevator, channeling the cool, confident, ambitious Dusty that got the job in the first place. All I’m doing is talking to the CEO about an important issue. It’s completely innocent.
As I step from the elevator into the lobby of the executive floor, Hayley looks up from her monitor and waves me through.
I like the fact that this is uninteresting to her, that she hasn’t stopped to look me up and down and wonder why I’m already being summoned to the CEO’s office—unless this is a regular thing and she’s so used to it that, by this point, it’s unexciting. Is that a possibility?
I knock on Ace’s—Cash’s—Mr. Maddox’s—door.
Almost instantly, he opens it. He holds the door open and I walk through, feeling suddenly like I’m entering his lair. I hear the click of the automatic lock as he closes the door behind me.
His gaze roves hotly over my body. “Tex.”
“Ace.” And my gaze roves—okay, hotly—over his. Now that I’m over my shock, I can fully appreciate the ridiculous specimen of A-list manhood that’s standing in front of me. He’s tall, and big. His dark hair is thick and slightly more unruly than you might expect from a CEO. He’s wearing an extremely well-cut suit but doesn’t seem entirely at ease in it, as though it constricts a barely-controlled wildness that’s a definite part of his vibe.
The wildness that was like crack to me that night in Hawaii.
And he’s doing it again.
“Take a seat on the couch,” he commands.
I have the urge to not obey his grumpy command but resist it. I don’t want to rile him, or myself. That could be disastrous.
So I walk over to the plush seating area by the wall of windows with its killer view out over the Manhattan skyline. The cluster of leather furniture, the swanky built-in bar and this entire scenario reminds me of a scene from Mad Men. How many women has he invited into his office, sitting too close to them on his fancy couch?
Maybe he does this all the time.
“I don’t,” he growls.
I slide him a look as I sit, taking up as little room as possible on the luxurious couch. “Don’t what?”
“Invite women into my office. Ever.”
“Unless they happen to be an employee.” I’m almost surprised I’ve said it.
He can hear the light petulance in my voice. He can probably guess that I’ve googled him. And that his little tryst with Rylee Winters is still one of the office gossip club’s favorite topics. “That ended months before I met you.”
