Page 25 of Trashy Foreplay

I crash into the storm of his eyes, unable to brake in time. The damage is done, and if I’m honest with myself, I was headed for destruction the instant I decided not to run the other way.

“Accept the job, Jules.”

There’s that tone again—a deep and commanding timbre that vibrates straight to the delta of my thighs. My mind is galloping ahead of me, imagining him using that tone as he bends me over his desk. The attraction I had to Perry was mild compared to this. It was minuscule and lacked depth—in truth harmless, until we somehow ended up in bed together.

But the chemistry between Cash and me is all-consuming, awakening me in ways I never believed possible. In ways I never knew existed. In ways I never knew I wanted. The energy surrounding us is scorching, and I’m too far gone to heed the warning licks of fire.

“Okay,” I say as I imagine my life going up in flames.

This man is going to be the death of me.

9. Bathroom Break - Cash

For the second time in a month, I’m thoroughly…poleaxed. It’s the most appropriate word I’m able to come up with, since the object of my obsession just left after agreeing to work for MontBlake.

Forme.

Of course, she had questions. Like how long would it take to train her, when would she start, and why hadn’t I told her I was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company? She seemed to have a very accurate memory of our time on that plane.

For every one of her questions, I had one of my own. Only I couldn’t ask them. Doing so would be intrusive and personal.

Like did she love her previous boss?

How long did the affair last?

Did his wife find out?

Is he the reason she left Oklahoma?

No, she was heartbroken over the boyfriend—I remember that much. So the boss must have been the mistake she was talking about. I let my thoughts drift back to the last half hour, to her wide, deep brown eyes and the way she nibbled her lip. How she stared at me as if I’m the next mistake she’s going to make.

I’d give anything to dig underneath her exterior, to unearth her secrets and desires. But I won’t, even if it kills me. We’ve catapulted too far over the line of professionalism as it is, and it’s going to be hell to fight our way back to the right side of the equation, to the sum of boss and employee, minus a whole shitload of trouble neither of us want. That’s the way it has to be, since I’m blatantly ignoring the professional andrightthing to do.

Which would be to send her on her way.

Hell, I might as well stop breathing. Watching Jules walk away a second time will gut me. No matter the right or wrong of it, she’s lived under my skin ever since I laid eyes on her. And the way she looked at me today…

Too fucking tempting.

I shouldn’t have hired her.

How the hell did this happen?

I glance at my watch and realize I’ve been sitting in a daze for the last twenty minutes. I’ve got emails that need sorted and answered, phone calls that need to be returned, appointments that need to be made, not to mention putting travel plans into motion. All of this shit piled up because my last personal assistant up and left last week without notice.

What I need is Jules.

I’m also behind on finalizing the building plans for MontBlake’s newest hotel. Ironically, it’s scheduled to begin construction in Oklahoma City soon. I don’t have time for this raging hard-on, compliments of one Jules Harley.

But God, she’s sexy. Bold. Blunt. She speaks before thinking, which can be a bad thing, but on her it’s a damn aphrodisiac.

Shaking the rails loose on that train of thought, I attempt to get my mind in the right headspace before she returns. I sent her down to HR to get the paperwork rolling, deciding not to have her sign a nondisclosure agreement about her knowledge of my marriage troubles. Having that document in place is company policy on such matters, but there was no way I could ask that of her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

She’s the only one who knows, other than the private investigator I hired and the unknown person who outed my wife’s affair. Regardless of how little I actually know Jules, my gut tells me I can trust her.

Cursing under my breath, I check my watch again, remembering that Monica wanted to talk to me. Jules should be back in an hour or so, but my wife could show up in five minutes or five hours.

And I’ve still got a hard-on to deal with. I push to my feet and make my way to the private bathroom off the office. Once inside, I lock the door and cross to the toilet. I’ve got my pants unbuttoned and unzipped in seconds, and I’m leaning over the porcelain bowl, one hand pumping my cock as images of Jules play through my head.

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