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CALEB
Juliet Nichols is goingto be a problem. And I already have enough of those.
The thought haunts me all night after I leave her apartment, restless in my sheets.
Well, that and the vision of what she was hiding under that threadbare robe. Yes, I’ve imagined my visit playing out in a hundred different options, and they all end in one way:
Juliet. Naked. On her knees. Her lush curves damp and gleaming from the shower.
That sweet, red mouth sliding on my cock.
Even an ice cold shower can’t cool me down this morning, not with that inferno still on my mind. The way she gasped at my every scandalous suggestion… How her eyes flared with desire at just a simple touch. Juliet might act the innocent, but from the moment I laid eyes on her at the coffee shop, I knew she was made for sin. And when I listened in on her conversation, and learned just how naive she was? Well, I knew, I would be the one to corrupt her. To show her exactly what kind of pleasure her body was capable of.
Just how far she would go for desire.
All this, and I’ve still only kissed her. I would be amused, if I wasn’t so goddamn hard.
I stand under the punishingly cold jets, imagining that it’s her nimble hands wrapped around me. Her breath coming fast along with mine. Stroking me. Begging me. And when I finally explode in a jet of hot frustration, I picture her licking me clean.
And loving every last drop.
“Nice of you to show.”
It takes me so long to get Juliet out of my head that I’m late to meet my buddy Logan at the gym.
“Sorry. Busy.”
I throw my stuff on the bench and tape my hands, fitting them into the gloves.
“What’s her name?” Logan smirks. “Not like you to let a woman interrupt your precious schedule.”
I scowl. “She’s nobody,” I lie, heading for the boxing ring. “Are we doing this thing?”
Logan laughs, and ducks under the ropes after me. He’s a private investigator I met a few years back, and he knows how to give as good as he gets. Too many of my personal trainers hold back, scared of doing damage to the great Caleb Sterling, but Logan doesn’t give a shit about my status—and I prefer it that way.
We start sparring. Usually, boxing clears my mind, but today, my rhythm is off. I’m messy, swinging too early and ducking too late.
“What’s got you all riled up?” Logan asks, circling warily.
“Nothing.” I lie.
I throw another jab. This one connects, but just barely. I move in, too fast, and Logan belts me with an uppercut I wasn’t expecting.
My vision swims.
“Sure, nothing.” Logan smirks. “Like I said, what’s her name?”
I scowl. He may be one of my best friends, but he has no idea what I’m dealing with. The pressure I’ve been under since I inherited the company five years ago—and discovered just how much of my family’s legacy is on the line. “Less talk, more training,” I growl.
“Suit yourself.”
Logan lands a series of jabs that leave me reeling—but it forces me to get my shit together, and fast. We circle, trading blows, watching for a weak point, and slowly, I begin to feel more like myself again.
In control.
Because despite what Juliet thinks, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. So, she’s turned me down—no doubt feeling exposed and embarrassed by the way she leapt into my arms at the office yesterday.
And rode my thigh, eager for more.
