Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“No, thank you, Daniel. I’ll eat later. You can head home for the evening.”
“Of course,” he says as he holds out a hand to me. “If you’d like, I’ll put your briefcase in your office.”
I give it to him. Daniel knows that just because I’m home and have a guest, my workday is not over and I’ll need the contents inside.
After Daniel departs, I turn to Drake. “Are you hungry? I can heat up whatever Daniel made.”
Drake steps into me, touching me for the first time by framing my face with his giant hands. He kisses me leisurely before saying, “Yeah, I’m hungry.”
He then picks me up and carries me off to bed.
♦
Drake is breathing deeply, so I feel safe to slip out of bed without waking him. Illumination filters in through my window from the outdoor landscape lighting, and I take a moment to appreciate how stunningly hot he is lying naked in my bed. Big, muscled body, long hair all messed up, and tattoos I’ve enjoyed exploring.
He’s become equally knowledgeable about my body, and there’s not a place on it he hasn’t touched, kissed, or licked.
Our appetites are insatiable, and my time with Drake has been enlightening. He makes me feel things sexually I never knew were possible. I’ve always been open in my sexuality. I’ve always owned my desire. I’ve had a healthy sex life ever since I lost my virginity my first year in college.
But Drake actually makes me crave sex.
No, not just sex.
I crave sex with him.
It must be an addiction, like he said.
He’s nothing like the man I bashed heads with all those months ago when I first tried to get him to join the team. He was rude and crass, and even though I despised him back then, I was still attracted to him. I never would’ve thought he had a generous bone in his body, though.
He has proven me wrong, time and again, because when we’re in bed, he is completely different. He is hyperfocused on pleasing me, dominating me, because he knows I need it. He knows I’m tired of being the strong one and making all the decisions. When he’s not growling orders or fucking the way he wants it, he’s actually lighthearted and, I dare say, funny.
We don’t talk about anything deep, but we have times whenever we’re not focused on attacking each other. A dam has definitely sprung open, and I don’t know what to do with it. I crave him, and he clearly feels the same.
When I let Drake into my body, I knew he would complicate my life. He’s forbidden—he’s a player, and I’m the owner. I don’t think there’s any written rule, but it’s certainly not professional. And Drake comes with baggage. If the media ever got wind of us being together, everything in his past would be dredged up again, and I’m quite sure I’ll get pulled through the mud with him. I’m strong enough to handle that, though. And as with anything newsworthy, it’ll become old news soon enough.
Ultimately, I did it because I wanted him too much. I’ve followed the rules my entire life, and I’ve operated within borders because it was required. But I’m too fascinated by Drake. I feel too alive when I’m with him.
Right now, he’s a risk I’m willing to take.
I want to reach out and touch him, but I don’t want to wake him. I actually have work to do, and frankly, I don’t mind the way he looks in my bed.
I consider putting on pajamas but instead I grab his T-shirt draped over a chair. It swallows me up, but it smells so good. Woodsy, clean, and all alpha male.
Tiptoeing out of my bedroom, I make my way to my office. It’s really not my office… I still think of it as my father’s, furnished with his masculine walnut furniture, leather wingback chairs, and the lingering scent of his cigar smoke. I know I should redecorate the house, but I simply haven’t had the time or energy to make it truly mine. It’s a low-priority item, and I don’t need to be comfortable in an office to be productive.
Removing my laptop from my briefcase, I turn it on and pull out three folders with documents I need to review. I immediately fall right into my task, immersed in the world of Norcross Holdings.
When I’m working, I have no concept of time. The word workaholic has been used on more than one occasion to describe me. It’s a good thing I love what I do, or else this would be absolute torture.
I don’t know how long I’m at my desk, but something disturbs my concentration—a vibe, more than anything. Lifting my head, I see Drake in the doorway, leaning against the jam with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing nothing but dark gray boxer briefs.