Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I might not work in this building, but I work for you, Rome.” And I thought we were becoming friends; I’d do anything to help my friend if I could.
“Do you? Did I officially hire you without knowing about it?”
Oh, wow—he’s in a rare mood today; too bad he doesn’t scare me like he scares everyone else in this office. Moody grouch—maybe I should start calling him Oscar.
“Stop taking your anger out on me.”
“If I’m taking my anger out on you, I sure as hell would know about it.”
My cheeks flame, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from falling on his lap. Just a few feet away, I could easily just reach down and ease some of that anxiety he’s feeling right now. Wipe away that furrowed brow; relax it a little.
Just a pull . . . a quick tug and zip down on the front of his trousers.
It would be so easy.
“Why are you really here, Peyton?” he grits out before standing and moving around his desk to pace the room, shocking me out of my reverie with his stern attitude.
I thought we’d had a breakthrough . . .
Shaking all thoughts of his crotch out of my head, I say, “You know why I’m here—to collect Lauren for lunch. Then she told me about Project Mountain. Since I’m in charge of marketing, even though for some reason you’re denying it today, I want to know what I’m dealing with here.”
“You want to know what you’re dealing with,” he mimics me and shakes his head, both hands drumming the wooden top of his desk. Fingers thrum the surface. “We are dealing with a titan of a company that seems to have stolen every ounce of the product line right from under my nose. They plan on launching a week before us.”
Shit.
Rome is about to crack his teeth from the grinding of his jaw. This has been a huge project for him, the launch of a new branch for this company. A lot riding on this women’s division, so to have to deal with his top competitor launching one before us, is pretty much a kick to the balls.
How the hell do I get my hands on that information from a competitor?
I chew on the side of my mouth, trying to think of a solution. “Then we should do whatever it takes to launch before them.”
“We barely have a marketing plan,” he huffs. “We can’t launch a week before them. We have media to schedule, commercials to finish, an entire campaign to finalize.”
“Good thing you hired me then,” I say, walking up to him and pressing my hand on his arm, gathering the attention of those worried eyes. “I’m an evil genius.”
He grips the back of his neck, his biceps pulling tightly on the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s too much.”
“I literally have nothing else on my calendar. My sole focus is Roam, Inc. We can do this, Rome. Trust me.”
My thumb rubs over the soft hairs on his forearm. God, his skin. My insides are churning, the need to pull him into my arms, rub his back, let him know everything is going to be okay is far too tempting.
Rome studies my movements as I run the pads of my thumbs across his masculine skin; along the lines in his defined brow, his own hand still busy rubbing the back of his neck.
“Trust me?” I ask, my breath escaping with every blink of his eyes. I can’t stop staring. I want him so bad.
My thumbs knead.
He takes a deep breath and slips his hand out of his pocket. When I think he’s about to push away from me, he surprises me. He places that hand at my waist, gently pressing me against his wall—a familiar position I remember being in right before I left Roam, Inc.
“You want me to trust you?” he asks, his voice so low, it rumbles over every inch of my body, sending a wave of arousal through my veins. “I can barely concentrate when you’re around, Peyton. I don’t even trust myself around you. I don’t trust that I’m not going to ruin the professional relationship we have. I don’t trust myself not to peel that white blouse off your chest and suck your nipples into my mouth. I don’t trust myself to keep myself from sinking so fucking deep inside you that you have no other choice but to scream my name. And I sure as hell don’t trust myself to stay away from you, when all I want is to feel your soft skin against mine.”
His hands are straddling my head, his eyes boring straight into my soul, his knee pressing between my legs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t feel my bottom half.
I can’t come up with one single word to say that will stop him.
I don’t want him to stop, even though I know he should, even though I know we are bordering on crossing a professional line, a line we could never get back.