Page 48 of Maneater
I force myself not to look at her breasts, at the way they perk up with her arms lifted like that, or the mouthwatering way right below that her waist dips in before flaring to her full hips, a perfect hourglass.
If I had a type, it would be Josie.
But I don’t because having a type leads to relationships, which I have negative time for—not these days.
“Is it just this location?” she asks, and I furrow my brow, confused, mentally stuck on her curves and my own desires.
“What?”
A dark lock slips from its hold, and she tucks it behind her ear. I’m mesmerized by her, watching each movement intensely.
“Is it just this location that the leaks are coming from?”
I hesitate for a moment, then shake my head becauseFan Magazinehas gotten at least four exclusive stories about events at resorts across our portfolio. I’m never this open about things, but it seems Josie has some kind of innate skill at pulling information from me.
“No. Four others as well.”
She nods like that makes sense.
“So it’s unrelated to whatever is going on around here?”
“Why are you so curious?”
She shrugs nonchalantly, then a playful smile appears across her lips. “I love good gossip. I love eavesdropping. I love tea and mysteries and a good, juicy story.”
For a moment, my mind freezes on her words, words that ring true in my knowledge of her.
It’s something a reporter would say.
Could I be sitting across from my leak? I try to run through our conversations to remember if she mentioned visiting other locations, but I can’t quite recall, although I make a note to look into it once I’m back at my desk. “I’m sure you do,” I say with a laugh, trying to play it off.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She doesn’t ask it as if she’s offended, just a simple question.
“Every time I bump into you, you’re talking with someone, trying to get them to spill some kind of secret.” That seems like a safe answer, and when she doesn’t look alarmed, I think I’m right. Instead, she shrugs, then puts her elbows on the table, looking at me with a sly smile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a shrug and a devious little smile. A beat of silence passes before she speaks once more. “Are you going to the partytomorrow night?”
I shake my head. “That’s for guests.”
“Oh, I’m sure the VP of Operations could come. I know I’d love to see you there.” She shifts closer to me, her arm brushing along mine. She lifts her arms, unpinning her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders. My eyes can’t help but follow the move, the way it lands across her tanned skin, and follow to where some of the strands fall between her breasts. She takes a deep breath in, making them rise and fall, and once again, my eyes follow.
It’s intentional.
Somewhere in my common sense, I know it’s intentional, some act she’s putting on to distract me, but I can’t find it in me to care.
“I brought a really pretty dress,” she says, her voice a flirty whisper.
I’m under her spell, and she knows it.
“Did you, now?” I ask, and my eyes shift from her hair and her breasts to her lips. Her pink tongue darts out, wetting the bottom one before biting it and nodding. All I can think about is the way that tongue felt on my thumb the other day and how it could feel in other places.
I reach over on instinct, hand moving toward the lock of hair between her breasts, pausing right before I do, realizing the line I’m most definitely crossing. Our eyes lock, and the teasing look is gone from Josie’s eyes, replaced by full, parted lips and wide eyes and undeniable need that is echoed in my own body.
“You can touch me, Rowan,” she whispers, and the words go right to my dick.
I shouldn’t.
