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“Shit,” I berate myself and place the book on the bottom of the pile, determined to force that evening out of my mind and put it behind me. Of course, if I really wanted to move on, I probably shouldn’t have moved to the same city where the event which shall not be named took place … Right?
Sitting down behind the desk, I pull up my calendar and email, setting to work on today’s tasks. I have a lot to get done today if I’m going to be ready for the new acquisition of books that are supposed to be delivered tomorrow. No time for thoughts of sexy men with strong corded muscles you want to lick, or gemstone green orbs so brilliant and bright they pierce the soul, or teasing personalities that sparkle in hazel eyes.
Squirming in my chair, I desperately try not to pay attention to the building ache between my thighs as memories of the guys take root in my mind and refuse to let up. Try and fail. For just a moment, I wonder if Josh would be open to a quicky between friends in his office.
Dammit, Devin. Get a grip on yourself. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t, use Josh like that. He’s a friend, and I will keep him firmly in that place. Even if it means I have to sit here for the next—glancing at my watch—seven hours and thirty-three minutes in pure, unadulterated agony.
I drop my head in my hands and curse under my breath with a groan, “Fuck my life.”
“I’m sorry?” a deep male voice with a delicious accent drawls from in front of me.
My head snaps up, and I’m taken in by the deepest obsidian eyes, framed by thick dark glasses, I’ve ever seen. My gaze skims over the rest of his features, his strong jaw line, darkened by the five o’clock shadow already growing. The way his nose points down rather than turning up. And the dimple peering out at me as he smiles widely, obviously aware of my perusal.
I smile up at him and ask, “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I’m hoping you can help me. I’m looking for this corporate law book,” he says, handing me a piece of paper.
“It’s my pleasure to help you,” I tell him, typing the title into the electronic card catalogue and jotting down the call number. I hand him the scrap of paper and point in the direction of the stack he needs. The look of confusion and desperate need for help freezes me a moment, and I smile again. “Let me show you where to find the book you’re looking for.”
Otis
“BLT on wheat, extra B, hold the T, and a side of fruit salad. Can I get anything else for you, miss?” a young male waiter, no older than nineteen, asks the brown-haired goddess seated two tables down from where I currently sit, having lunch with Lucian, Dante, Cole, and his baby brother Leo.
The waiter’s eyes dip, and he licks his lips. I grin, knowing what it is he just snuck a peek of, and what he’s thinking. The kid has no game.
The woman lowers the book she’s been engrossed in for the last twenty minutes, pretty much since she sat down. Yes, I’ve been shamelessly eyeing her, but not for the same reason as the waiter. I don’t know why, but even from behind, there is something familiar about her. The tone of her voice when she ordered her tall glass of sweet tea. The dusky brown locks of hair pulled back tight into a bun, pinned expertly in place. The long slender lines of her neck, begging to be licked and bit, getting lost inside the collar of her sheer purple blouse. Licking my lips, I can practically taste her on my tongue.
She turns her head slightly to look up at the young man, and I lean closer into Lucian’s space, causing him to grumble and forcefully push me back. Unknowingly, she blocks my view of her face when she lifts her hand to block the rays of sunlight from blinding her when she responds. “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll be ready for some more iced tea in a little while,” she says, and I bite my lower lip to hold back a groan as my cock twitches at the sweet sound of her voice.
The waiter ducks his head, and sneaks another peek at her cleavage before saying, “I’ll check back in a little. Enjoy your sandwich.”
“Thank you,” she calls after him, lifts the pickle spear, takes a bite, and returns her attention to the book in her hands, getting lost in the pages.
“Otis,” Cole says with evident irritation in his tone. Obviously, this isn’t the first time he’s called my name.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, forcing my attention back to Cole and the rest of the group, each wearing masks of equal part annoyance and bewilderment.
“If you could tear your eyes off the girl for two seconds, I need better ideas. I really don’t want to go through with this fucked up plan the board is pushing, but I also don’t want to be forced out of the company my father built. I could really use some of your creative thinking,” Cole states, his complexion paling three shades to a milky gray with worry but with a tint of pink from his anger and frustration at the whole fucked up situation.
“The board’s decision could have been worse. Hell, they could have forced you out and put me in charge. At least they put a little thought into their ultimatum,” quips Leo, Cole’s younger brother and technical heir to the Fortune 500 company their parents left behind should Cole ever step down or be forced to leave.
The sound of one long beep, followed by three short, draws my attention back to the girl. She silences her phone and puts it, along with her book, into her bag hanging from the other side of her chair. She picks up her sandwich, and a low feminine moan, one that’s been burned into my memories from long ago, echoes through the air.
Unthinking, I stand and walk in the direction of the lone female. Distantly, I register my name being called, but I don’t stop, not until I’m standing beside her. I have to know if it’s her. I have to see.
Could it possibly be the woman who’s plagued my dreams for the last year?
“Devy?” I ask hopefully, and she drops her sandwich. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth as she spins around in her chair. Fuck me, it is her.
Her eyes widen in shock, maybe horror, and she chokes on a piece of her sandwich. Fuck.
Dante is on her other side a moment later, rubbing one smooth hand in firm circles across her upper back while she attempts to dislodge the offending piece of food from her throat.
Picking up her glass of tea, I hold it close. Lifting one of her hands, I close her fingers around it and direct her to take a sip from the cool glass.
“Drink, princess. Shit, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Devin sips her tea between coughs, slowly regaining control of her body’s reflexes. She puts her glass down and wipes her eyes. Dante continues to rub slow circles on her back. Lucian takes the seat across from her, and Cole stands at his back.
