Dirty Rival (Scandalous Billionaires #6) Read Online Lisa Renee Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors: Series: Scandalous Billionaires Series by Lisa Renee Jones
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Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
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“You’re about two seconds from a knee in the part of you that was just inside me, and the irony of that placement would really amuse me right now. Let me go, Reid.”

Her eyes gleam with anger on that command and just that easily, I’m hot and hard again. Exactly why I release her, but she doesn’t run like another woman would. She stands her ground. She looks me in the eyes and claims her space and mine, and it’s sexy as hell. I want her again, and in the seconds that tick by, a band of lust and anger hums around us, about to snap. She knows, too. Her chin lifts slightly, a silent “fuck you” before she turns and leaves.

The minute she’s gone, I walk to the window, but I don’t see the skyline before me. I think of that moment when I was on my knees between her legs. I could have denied her. I could have teased her and then denied her, but I didn’t. I wanted her to remember how good I can make her feel. I wanted her to remember me making her come, not me fucking her in an office. I wanted her to want more when the idea of fucking her, was to end my damn obsession with being inside her. With everything about her.

I failed.

Chapter fifteen

Carrie

Ihate him.

I want him.

I hate him and the fact that as I walk into my office, my blouse gapes with my missing buttons. And I smell like him, all earthy and raw. I don’t let myself think beyond hate because there is more, so much more, beneath my surface that I don’t want to exist. I grab the sewing kit Sallie keeps in my drawer, which I would not have without her because she’s everything I am not, which makes us a perfect pair. Reid and I are not perfect at anything but hate. Not even close. Nor is the repair work I do on my blouse with a safety pin, but at least, my breasts are no longer on display.

I pack my things and I head for the door. I’ll deal with the terminations from home. I’m walking out of my office toward the lobby in two minutes. I want space between me and Reid, who I just had sex with. I’m a crazy person. I’m not fit to be CEO. I can’t even keep my clothing in place. I step into the elevator, relieved when it shuts and Reid doesn’t show up, but Lord help me, I’m disappointed, too. I don’t want him to be an asshole. I’ll analyze that later, much later. Once I’m in the lobby, I talk with security about the terminations and then I am gone.

I exit to the street, and I am incredulous at what an ass Reid really is. And I didn’t like it when he smacked my ass. Not really. Not that much. Never again! I cross the street and enter the park area where Reid also lives. How is that even possible? How many times have we passed each other and not cared? I continue this line of thinking all the way to the front of the building where I notice the restaurant that I love has been shut down by the fire marshal. I don’t even want to know what that means since it’s almost directly under my apartment.

I step onto the elevator, deciding I should call and ask what happened, but then why? No matter what I told my father, I have to be smart. I’m not going to feel secure again anytime soon. I have to sell my place. I’m going to be gone soon. The ride is forever, and I manage to conjure an image of Reid between my legs. I know why he let me come. His ego is too damn big to risk me thinking he couldn’t get the job done. I think I’ll tell him that. I grab my phone to call him and thankfully the elevator dings me back to my senses. I stick my phone back in my purse.

Ten minutes later, I’m in my kitchen with my files spread over the top of the navy granite countertop with my computer open. I open my email and download the report Reid sent me and start reading. It’s bad. I kick off my shoes and drag my fingers through my hair. I can’t just fire these men. It’s not enough. I glance at the name and number on the report: Royce Walker. I dial him.

“Royce Walker,” he answers.

“Hi Royce,” I say. “This is Carrie—”

“West, you got the report.”

“Yes. Thank you so much for catching this. I need to go to the police. I need permission to use your data.”

“I can handle it all for you. Reid said it was your call.”


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