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The billionaire’s blue eyes gleam as he chuckles deep in his throat, and I know the night has just begun. After all, this man is my everything, and for tonight at least, I don’t care about childhood grudges and silly plans for revenge. Instead, I want to let myself enjoy the majesty that is Carlton James, and lose myself in his passionate embrace again and again.
11
Carlton
I smile as I read a text from Ramona. The woman is clever, sexy, and utterly beguiling. Even her messages are witty and provocative. She’s texted me a pic of her big breasts as one hand teasingly twists a hard pink nipple. Of course, my eyes bugged out and my shaft got hard immediately, but it’s totally worth it. Even better, she captioned it, “Corkscrews are just like fusilli!”
It’s corny, but I love it, and a chuckle escapes my mouth before I can control myself.
Ramona Monk.
Who would have guessed? We’ve been seeing each other for about three months now, professionally and personally, and it’s been fucking hot, to say the least. In the office, we manage to maintain a professional distance, which had been a mild concern for me but a major one for Ramona. But the woman is sharp, and her work impeccable, so it’s rare that there are any issues between us while we’re in a work setting.
Aside from me wanting to rip her clothes off every time I see those lush curves, I admit with some amusement. After all, I’ve never dated a woman quite like Ramona. Her physical enticements drive me mad, but what’s even more intoxicating is that she doesn’t seem to realize just how much she turns me on. The curvy girl’s so fucking wet and needy all the time, and she doesn’t realize how that makes a man’s temperature go through the roof.
I shake my head, recalling a meeting where she and Melody Prince accidentally wore almost the exact same outfit: a fitted black pencil skirt and light pink button-down. Whereas Melody had looked decent enough in the ensemble, Ramona looked like a knockout, the shirt’s soft color highlighting her naturally pink cheeks, the skirt hugging her round ass like a glove. I loved it, and thinking about Ramona’s ample backside immediately arouses me. Without hesitation, I send her a reply, telling her to invest in more pencil skirts.
Okay, Daddy, she texts back cheekily. Just don’t rip it off me and ruin it!
I growl at her sassy response before stuffing my phone back in my pocket. Never in my life has a woman distracted me from work quite like Ramona, but I don’t resent her. Instead, I find myself eager to help her succeed, and even more eager to spend time with her.
Which means getting your job done, I remind myself sharply. Hell, they’re going to fire you from your own company if you don’t get your shit together.
I glance at my work calendar to determine where I need to be next and scowl almost immediately. Damn. At 5:30 this afternoon, I have a meeting with Melody to review project updates and address a few hiccups in the timeline. It’s not that I hate the woman, but I find her dry, boring, and ridiculous all at once. Even worse, she’s always trying to hit on me, and I practically have to fend her off with a crowbar. It’s not exactly my idea of a good time.
Of course, I wanted the meeting to coincide with one of my usual appointments at Concord Design, but Melody insisted that the conversation be held elsewhere. Goddammit, why? She probably wants privacy without the prying eyes of co-workers. But about what? Something about this woman bugs me, and I know it’s not only because of how she treats Ramona.
Regardless, I remind myself that the blonde is a principal on the project and her input, although irksome in delivery, has yet to be wrong.
I stand and stretch my arms above my head. It’s a little after five already and I’m disappointed that I won’t get to see Ramona this evening. Bemused by how much the woman preoccupies my mind, I grab my jacket from the coat rack and lock my office door.
“I’m headed out for my next appointment. I’ll be in at eight tomorrow morning – we have the call with London,” I remind my assistant.
“Very good, Mr. James,” the older woman says with a smile. “Have a good evening, sir.”
I nod in thanks and make my way toward the elevators. Damn, this sucks. This meeting is going to be painful, but I might as well suck it up because Concord has been good. Plus, I agreed to meet Melody at a popular café and bar a few blocks over, so at least the walk will be refreshing.
Outside, the Chicago air is crisp, threatening to snow any day now. I pull my overcoat tighter around me, wondering if Ramona might like to escape the cold over the holidays.
