“It’s a long story.” One I didn’t want to—and couldn’t—really explain.
“I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”
I liked the sound of that, a little too much. Sliding my hand lower, I stroked his length which was already hardening again. “How about we use that time a different way?”
“I’ll let you get away with that. But only for now, baby,” he whispered against my lips.
“Whatever you say, boss,” I quipped back.
It worked as the perfect distraction, as he went about showing me why he was the boss in bed. Afterwards, lying in his arms as the sun started to peek through the curtains, I felt energized even though I’d barely gotten any sleep. It fucking sucked that I couldn’t stay like this forever, but I had shit to do if I wanted to get my new life started. And after this night, I had one hell of a reason to want to stay in Atlanta.
Chapter 2
“Jessa!” I sifted through the mess of folders on my desk and prayed for patience. I had an intercom but yelling released some of the stress. Hopefully, it would keep me from a rash reaction like firing her. “I need the paperwork for my next appointment.” I couldn’t find it in the pile, so I shoved everything to the opposite end of my large, corner desk. Another task I’d have to ask her to re-do. Everything was running at a snail’s pace since I hired Jessa, but she was a sweet kid and I could tell she was trying.
I didn’t normally have a softer side. In fact, I was known for being rigid and uncompromising, pretty much a total asshole. But, I had my moments and one of them was when my assistant, Margaret, an extremely efficient and sarcastically funny woman in her sixties, had announced she was retiring. She’d asked me to hire her eighteen-year-old granddaughter because she was too sheltered and needed to get some experience in the real world. Margaret said she would stay on and help her out until she got the hang of things, so I agreed. Then Margaret’s appendix had burst, and she was currently in the hospital. Leaving me with no one but the teenager with her head in the clouds.
In the rarest of occurrences, I happened to have one of those moments the night before as well.
Calista.
Something about that woman inspired some softness, although parts of me were certainly rigid. I had a completely foreign desire to possess another person. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, take her home, and tie her to my fucking bed so I didn’t have to share her with anyone else. With her long, inky black hair, high cheekbones and full lips she had a face Hollywood would love. She was tall, which I appreciated because even though I was still quite a few inches taller, I didn’t have to bend in fucking half to kiss her. Her body was lean and toned, with endless legs that had shown off her strength when they clenched around me as I fucked her tight, little pussy. Last night had been the greatest fucking sex I’d ever had in my life.
Shit. I had an interview in less than twenty minutes, and I was hard as a fucking rock. I’d probably scare the fuck out of Jessa if she saw me at that moment. I tried to think of something other than how it had felt to be inside Calista.
Baseball stats. Weston. Rhys. Thank fuck thinking about my best friends was working, and I was starting to soften. But damn it, I still couldn’t stop thinking about her. When Weston and Rhys had fallen for their wives, I’d rolled my eyes and told them to stop being such pussies. And, it only took a minute of staring into her dark brown eyes to know exactly what they’d been talking about. There was no doubt in my mind that this woman fucking belonged to me. Not that I’d be admitting it to either of those jackasses any time soon.
A knock on my door broke through my thoughts, and Jessa stood there timidly, holding a file. “I’m sorry,” she practically squeaked. “I forgot to bring it in with the other folders.” I tamped down the urge to shout that it was probably a good thing or it would be lost in the pile behind me. She’d organized client folders all morning, then brought them in and set the unsteady pile on my desk. I asked her to move them and start putting them in the filing cabinet but just as she was reaching for them, my phone rang and she sprang to answer it, knocking the pile and sending everything flying in all directions. She’d started crying and fled the room.
I sighed, I didn’t need to bring down the wrath of Margaret on my head, so I just moved everything and tried to get ready for my appointment. “Thank you,” I grated, holding back my temper. The point was that she was trying, right? She handed me the file and spun around, scurrying from the office.
Flipping it open, I scanned the CV of C. Lewis. I’d recently picked up a handful of high-security clients, and it required hiring more bodyguards so we wouldn’t be short-staffed. This guy had been recommended by a friend from the agency who Weston had introduced me to. Evie Shaw was one of the most badass women I knew and if she had a hand in training this guy, I wanted him.