What do you get when you cross one feisty secretary with one determined billionaire?
My name—Jace Harlow.
My business—making billions.
I’ve got it all.
I know—I’m quite a catch. At least to most women. But Lily Conrad isn’t like any woman I’ve met before.
Damn her and that red dress.
Now all I think about is her. All I fantasize about is her—her smile, her laugh, her long legs wrapped around my waist.
My dilemma, you ask?
She doesn’t care that I’m a billionaire. And why should she? It means nothing, tells her nothing about who I am.
Lily Conrad doesn’t know what I’m made of, but you can be sure of one thing…She’s going to find out.
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
A light sound takes me out of my own head. I look to my left, and what I see robs me of my breath. I stand taller, suddenly unable to remember my own thoughts. A profile of porcelain skin, a sharp nose, and—Jesus—a full red lip claim my attention. Hair the color of amber piled high on her head, soft tendrils frame her face. I want to let it down, comb my fingers through it, see if it’s as soft as it looks…and I keep looking, because it’s impossible not to.
The smooth lines of her nape are set in grace, my tongue already mapping the perfect path down her skin. My eyes keep going because there’s no stopping them now. Moving lower to the dress, the color is a deep red, the neckline plunging. Being six foot one has its advantages. Even from the side, I can see the dip of cleavage. I lick my lips, already begging for a taste, wanting to know if she’s as sweet as she looks. Then I continue on, because wild horses couldn’t drag me away. I need to see more.
Unfortunately, as far as skin goes, the rest is covered by the floor-length gown. Whoever she is, she’s stunning, and I can’t stop staring. She has pleasure and sin written all over her. I’m hard now. My body ready to do what is instinctual to me. For the first time in…well, forever, I want to be reckless. I want to throw her over my shoulder and drag her to the nearest closet. Sift through all that red, lush fabric and find her pussy. Put my mouth there, sweep my tongue across her clit. Drag an orgasm out of her that makes her see stars, makes her see no one but me. I laugh under my breath because that would be a first.
As if she knows what I’m thinking, she turns my way, and I’m knocked on my ass. My first thought: I want to get down on my hands and knees and thank God for this gift from heaven. Jesus. If I thought she was gorgeous from the side, head-on, she’s exquisite. Her eyes are a moss green. No, no—that description will not do. Because that doesn’t begin to describe soft sage peppered with golden yellow flecks. They’re clear and…wait, vulnerable? Or…I don’t know, apprehensive? How can a creature so beautiful be so scared? The million-dollar question—or in my case, the billionaire-dollar question.
When I realize I’ve been staring too long, I force a word from my lips. Any word will do at this point. “Hello.”
Just brilliant, Jace.
“Hello,” she says back, almost reluctantly. “Can I help you with something?”
She gestures with one hand, long fingernails painted red to match her dress. Red: it’s a bold color, feisty—daring, even. I wonder if she’s adventurous behind closed doors, if she likes to fuck on desks, up against walls. I wonder if she enjoys taking it in what I’m sure is a perfectly curved ass. I sure as hell want to find out. I’d relish the opportunity to have her mile-long legs wrapped around my waist, grinding on my cock.
“You were staring at me.”
And thinking salacious thoughts, but I won’t mention that.
“I was?” It comes out like a question when there is absolutely no doubt it’s the truth.
The corner of her mouth turns up, but it doesn’t match her eyes. What is that I see? I want to figure it out, and then I want to take it away for her.
“Did you have a question?”
“A question?” Did I even ask a question? Why is my brain not computing? I never waver, but this woman is throwing me off my game.
Maybe she can read my thoughts. Perhaps she knows the question inquiring minds want to know: How does she like to fuck?
I’ve been silent too long, imagining all the different ways I could bring her to orgasm, and now it looks like she’s holding back a laugh. I want to hear what her laugh sounds
like. Is it high and melodic or low and raspy?
“Yes. Did you have one?”
I can feel the crease slash my forehead. “I’m…”
An idiot. Confused.
Tongue-tied by your beauty.
Yeah, that’ll do.
Her eyebrows lift.
I clear my throat and step into my confidence once again. Then I edge closer, the scent of something floral floating under my nose. “Tongue-tied by your beauty.”
She actually laughs, and here I thought I was smoother than that. But hey, I made her laugh, so point for me.