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It must have been weeks ago.
And if I can’t remember it, then it was nothing to write home about.
I did come close to getting some with that pretty brunette bartender from the party a couple of nights ago, but Trent Nichols made sure to throw a wrench into those plans. It was so easy for him to fuck up what had already been a lackluster night.
And all it took was five goddamn minutes.
I’m still haunted by the way those black eyes of his looked at me, as if I were some kind of toy he had been forbidden to play with but couldn’t resist poking at it a little, just to make sure it was as fun as it looked.
With his imposing frame looming over me, he made me feel small and fragile in comparison. He had stood so close, so goddamn close, that I could still smell his scent on me. Notes of cedarwood and freshly cut bergamot suddenly danced tantalizingly in the air, making me recall every second of our indecent interaction.
How I gasped when he grabbed my knees unceremoniously to spread my thighs apart.
How my heart leaped out of my chest when his strong hand snaked up my dress with ease, uncaring if anyone saw what he was up to.
And how he pulled an earth-shattering orgasm out of me without breaking a sweat.
God, did that wretched man know what he was doing.
If he’s that good with his fingers, I shudder to think what he can do with his cock.
If hot, dirty sex is what I need, then I’m positive that Trent would be a master at it.
Nope.
You don’t crap where you eat, Piper.
That’s the rule.
Well, technically, the rule is never to get involved with a client. There’s nothing written in stone that I couldn’t fool around with a client’s boss. However, I’m more than certain that it would be frowned upon by my own boss at ESA.
Still, when I strutted into his office yesterday morning to talk him out of having lunch with that creep, Ethan, forbidden images of him doing his worst assaulted me. I imagined him wiping his desk clean of everything on it just so he could fuck me on top of it. Those lurid images playing in my head made it damn near impossible to keep my train of thought.
Good thing he was back to being the cold, unfeeling cunt that he is, or I might have made him a proposition of my own.
I’m sure Trent wouldn’t refuse a one-night stand if I offered him one.
Lord knows the man must be used to hearing such proposals on a daily basis, and then some.
Though… I’ve never actually seen him go out with anyone.
Not in the two years I’ve known him. I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful women fawn over him at parties, but I’ve never actually seen him take one home.
Maybe he’s imposed on himself the same rule I have.
Maybe he, too, doesn’t shit where he eats.
Hmm.
We might be considered frenemies in our line of business, but I can’t deny that there are too many shared similarities between us.
Neither of us take shit from anyone.
We both come off as a little intimidating
He’s a lone wolf.
And so am I.
