Page 67 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

Dear Ms. Nunnally,

I find myself in a bit of a predicament. The woman beside me is breathtakingly beautiful, and I fear she may compromise my productivity. I’m requesting immediate assistance.

Sincerely,

Mr. Braden

My heart skips, and I glance at him. His gaze flicks in my direction, playful and enticingly seductive. My fingers fly across the keyboard.

Dear Mr. Braden,

While I sympathize with your plight, and I’m all for helping my most special client through a hard time, you have a conference call with Jared and Wells in a few minutes. I wouldn’t want to be caught in a compromising position.

Warmest regards,

Ms. Nunnally

His email chimes, and he reads my response, smiles coyly, and starts typing again. Another email rolls in.

Dear Ms. Nunnally,

You underestimate my ability to multitask. I’m fully capable of running a meeting while you compromise me.

Sincerely,

Mr. Braden

Heat prickles across my skin as I type a reply.

Dear Mr. Braden,

I’d hate to be responsible for you saying something inappropriate on a business call. Imagine the headlines: Elusive Billionaire’s Indecent Productivity Habits Exposed.

Warmest regards,

Ms. Nunnally

When he reads the message, he laughs out loud and sets his laptop on the coffee table. As he crawls over me, I say, “Excuse me, Mr. Braden, but I don’t recall seeing this in my job description.” His knees sink into the cushion as he takes my tablet and puts it on the coffee table.

“It wasn’t.” He brushes his lips over mine and says, “It was in mine.” His eyes spark with wickedness. “When I first reached out and asked if you’d take me on as a client, I promised to make sure you’d have everything you need to stay challenged, supported, and stimulated.” He kisses my neck. “I take my commitments very seriously.”

I push my hands beneath the back of his shirt, reveling in the feel of his muscles, and say, “Should I be worried that you made that promise when you thought I was a guy?”

His eyes narrow, but his mouth curves up as he says, “I was trying to be clever.”

“So was I.”

I pull his mouth to mine, the scrape of his stubble and the feel of him as he lowers his body over mine have lust coiling hot and tight inside me. He deepens the kiss, and I meet every slick of his tongue, every hungry sound, with one of my own. His erection rubs between my legs, creating scintillating friction as he pushes a hand beneath my sweater, searing a path to my breast. I arch beneath him, and he kisses me rougher, more demanding, his tongue thrusting in time with his hips.

When he tears his mouth away, firelight flashes across his face. The passion in his eyes takes me higher as he pushes my sweater up and unhooks my bra. When his tongue slides over my nipple, lust overtakes sanity. I bury my hands in his hair, pleading, “Don’t stop—”

He teases and taunts, grazing his teeth over my sensitive flesh, until every inch of my body pulses with need. His mouth blazes a path down my stomach, and he unbuttons my jeans. I lift my hips, craving his mouth on me, and a sharp, villainous ring cuts through the heat.

We both freeze.

“Fuck,” he grits out against my stomach, and lifts his face with an apologetic expression as another ring sounds.

“If you don’t answer it, they’ll think you’re dead,” I say, letting him off the hook.