Page 2 of Text Me, Take Me

At the interview, she walked in trying to look confident, but I could discern the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. When she brushed her dress down, rubbing her shaky hands over the tempting curves of her body, my body hummed.

“Take a seat, Miss Davis.”

She sat, adjusted her dress. And just like that, she had me hooked.

A car pulls up outside her apartment, tugging me back to the present moment. Whenever somebody appears, it’s a reminder that what I’m doing is wrong. But she said something at the end of that confusing, enthralling interview that had me wondering if I could do a good deed.

When I said, “I see you have three years’ experience at Charles Menezes’ company,” she looked away, a subtle blush rising to her cheeks. I tried to control myself, but my body didn’t care about my honorable notions. My shaft was thick with desire. I refused to be controlled by my sudden, inexplicable need.

Hell,inexplicable?

It is, in fact, very explicable… her curves, her pouting lips, her wide and rebellious honey colored eyes, the braid draped over one shoulder as though giving me a handhold for when I guide her luscious body against mine.

“Uh, yes,” she said, and I think she knew I’d seen through her flimsy charade. But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

“Are my windows more interesting than this interview, Miss Davis?”

She turned to me quickly. “No, of course not. I was just thinking, Mr Russo.”

“Care to share with the class?”

A daring look sparked in her eyes. But then it shifted, and she looked afraid. Even before the end of the interview, when she dropped the bombshell, I felt weirdly, confusingly sorry for her. “I was thinking about how beautiful this office is.”

I didn’t buy it, and I should’ve kicked her out of my office, but I was… interested. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Did you design it yourself?”

I waved a hand and almost said,You won’t get this job with compliments.

She must’ve sensed my mood change.

She leaned forward with a challenge, giving me a look at her cleavage that had me almost pulling her out of her seat. My mind, usually either a purposefully peaceful place or a world of unwanted chaos, became a lust-filled land. I imagined pushing her gorgeous globes together, pressing my face against her, biting, kissing, possessing. “Sorry, Mr Russo. I’m a littlenervous. That’s probably not the sort of thing you admit on a job interview… but I sense you value honesty.”

Now, in the car outside her apartment, I smile. She’s just returned from getting a glass of water. That was a clever line by her.

I chuckled. “Ah, a quote from my interview inTIME. It’s worth knowing, the writer took liberties.”

“You don’t value honesty, sir?” she asked, confused.

Of course, my intercom chose that moment to buzz, interrupting us. It was my assistant. “Sir, five minutes until the call with London.”

“Is that an actual call?” Evie asked.

That got another laugh out of me. Evie was going for the record. “Are you always this paranoid?”

She shrugged. “It would be a good way to seem important.”

“Do you honestly believe billionaires need to pretend to be important?”

“Touche. I guess I’m wondering why you’re interviewing me yourself?”

“I think you know why I’m interviewing you myself, Miss Davis.”

She bit her lip.Fuck. That did a number on me. My balls ached as I imagined her trembling in the throes of an orgasm right there in the office, biting her lip so that my assistant wouldn’t hear.

“No, I don’t,” she said stubbornly, refusing to give an inch.

“I’ve known Charles–you ‘previous employer’–for several years. Last night, I called him and asked if a woman named Evie Davis had ever worked for him.”

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