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“Watch Sterling find a reason to be at reception in three, two....”
She was talking about Josh Sterling, a senior agent with a knack for manifesting at reception anytime an attractive girl showed up. It happened often, considering the agency represented talent in both sports and entertainment.
Which means it might not be who you think it is right now, and you should keep the fuck working, I told myself.
So I did.
But as I did, I indulged in thinking about her.
Holland. About the memory of how fucking sexy she was last night. Sucking my dick. Flashing her ass and pussy for me as she crawled on all fours. She had no idea what the hell she did to me. How many images I already had of her forever burned into my mind. I’d been ready to take her again after coming inside her last night, and the only reason I didn’t was because I knew it would be painful for her.
I hadn’t exactly gone easy on her.
The plan had been to hold back a fair amount. To exercise restraint with her. But that plan was put at risk when she started rubbing my dick, and it had gone straight to hell the second she asked so sweetly if she could suck on it.
For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that turned on. Driven that crazy by a woman.
And it didn’t help that her pussy was unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life.
She was so perfectly snug and wet around me. Like she was made for me. Within two strokes I was convinced that no other cock but mine should ever be inside her. No tongue but mine should ever taste her skin, and no eyes but mine should ever watch those perfect tits shake as she came.
In short, I didn’t just get drunk off Holland Maxwell last night—I’d gotten completely fucking wasted, and I already wanted more, but considering how hard she made my blood rush, how thoroughly satisfied she’d made me feel, I couldn’t let myself near her again. I had to grit my teeth and just cut myself off.
Unfortunately, my secretary was determined to make that very goddamned hard for me.
“Poor girl,” Erica snorted. “They’re like vultures.”
They?
Who the fuck else was over there now?
I wondered for a half-second before catching myself.
Leave it.
If I was serious about never seeing Holland again, I wouldn’t have my attention trained on the mindless chatter outside my door. It was everything I normally despised hearing in my office, and if I were in my right mind right now, I wouldn’t give half a shit. I wouldn’t be eavesdropping on my secretary, trying to gauge what the scene at reception looked like right now.
Whether she’s there or not has nothing to do with you, I told myself.
Over and over till I hissed a harsh fuck under my breath and got up from my desk.
HOLLAND
“The Mercier Group. Nice. And what do you do there?” asked the one who introduced himself as Josh.
I fidgeted, my fingers playing with the corner of the envelope that held my new MetroCard. But despite the anxious habit, I kept on my polite smile, in the middle of answering their question about where I worked when the blond one’s gaze flickered to look behind me.
Suddenly, his eyebrows ascended and he swiftly walked away, leaving me with just Josh.
“Uh—” Josh blurted, making an abrupt transition from smooth and swaggering to stiff and awkward. Okay, what the heck is going on? He was looking behind me now too, and since I could hear neat, increasingly loud footsteps coming from that direction, I glanced over my shoulder.
And when my eyes landed on a stern Iain striding toward me in a navy suit and tie, I froze.
“Got your MetroCard? I’ll walk you out.”
He didn’t break his stride or wait for me to answer his question before guiding me away from reception with his hand splayed on my lower back.
My mouth opened and closed a few times without making any words, and my eyes were wide, looking toward the elevators as I remembered that we were on the forty-second floor.
