At least, that’s the story Pilar told me on the drive home from the restaurant last night.
Blood thrumming with anticipation, I stroll past Violet’s window, pausing at her open door and knocking before I enter. I don’t bother waiting for her to acknowledge me; I just stride inside, stopping short in front of her desk when I get a good look at her.
And just about have a heart attack.
Jesus, what is she wearing? A sleek black dress that hugs her breasts and reveals her slender arms, with her long dark hair up, exposing her neck, wavy tendrils brushing against her skin. The look is simple but effective.
As in, one look at her and I’m immediately hungry for more. More skin, more Violet, more everything.
“Ryder.” She blinks up at me, those big brown eyes wide and full of shock. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“We have a meeting in …” I check my Rolex, then return my gaze to hers. “Five minutes. Remember?” I remain standing, my gaze dropping to the neckline of her dress. It gapes slightly at the front, allowing me a glimpse of shadowy cleavage, and I catch sight of the sheer white lace bra covering her full, tempting breasts.
I immediately break out in a sweat.
Her glossy peach-colored lips part as she stares at me. Hell, I’m going to fantasize later about my dick sticky with peach gloss—I can just see it. She gives herself a little shake. Like she’s just as entranced as I am. Interesting. “Of course I remember. I was just about to head to the conference room.”
“Same here. I’ll go with you.” I don’t bother asking, because I’m not about to give her the opportunity to refuse me.
“I was waiting for my sister. She’s going to sit in on the meeting, too.” Violet nibbles her lower lip, her teeth sinking into peachy lush flesh, and holy fuck, who knew that sort of innocent look could be so sexy?
“I don’t mind waiting for Rose.” I’ve spoken with her before. She’s friendlier than Violet, much more open. “If you don’t.”
Violet tilts her head back, contemplating me, and I realize what a power position I have over her. She’s seated; she’s the one behind the twenty-thousand-dollar desk. Truly, she’s the one with the power over me, career-wise.
But towering over her, I know that in this moment I’m all that she sees, all that she hears. And I fucking love it.
“No. I don’t mind.” She busies herself, gathering a notepad and a pen, grabbing her cell phone and setting it on top so everything is in a nice, neat pile. Her office is clean, not a hint of clutter to be found anywhere, and I bet where she lives is the same way.
Clearly this is a woman who needs some messing up so she can get a little dirty. Have some excitement in her life for once. I get the feeling she’s orderly to a fault.
That sounds infinitely boring.
“She should be here any second,” Violet says when I remain quiet, as if she’s desperate to fill the silence.
Watching her, seeing her hesitate, feeling the discomfort radiate off of her in near visible waves, I’m even more confident my plan will work. She’s so vulnerable, so unsure, such a damn easy mark. And she’s beautiful. Fucking beautiful, with a scent that drives me wild.
I can smell her now, and I want to inhale her like a drug. I hear her shift in her seat, see her lick her already glossy upper lip, and my cock hardens. What would she do if I pulled her out of her chair, spread her out on top of her desk, and fucked her right here? Anyone could pass by and see us, but we’d be too overcome with lust to care …
Damn. I rub my hand across the back of my neck, tearing my gaze away from her. She’s fucking tempting. This is the most excited I’ve been about a woman in a while. I make her uncomfortable, though. I sensed that last night and I’m sensing it again. Right now. I need to try and put her at ease, but …
Either I can use that edgy discomfort to my advantage or I can throw it all out in the open and see how she reacts.
I let my gaze return to her, tracking her every movement, remaining locked on her fingers as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and fidgets uneasily. I’d like to be those fingers. Touching her, learning how soft her skin really is. “You want me to leave, don’t you,” I say, because that’s completely logical.
Her gaze flashes to mine. She looks miserably guilty. “Not at all.”
“Because I make you uncomfortable.” I pause, waiting for an answer, but she says nothing. “I don’t want to upset you, Violet,” I lie.
But I like affecting her. It turns me on.
Her eyes now flash with a new emotion. Amusement. “I’m not a delicate flower who needs coddling, Ryder.” She checks her phone, huffs out a sound of irritation, and stands, gathering her things and pressing them to her chest. “We don’t have time to wait for Rose. Let’s go.”
Well, well, well. A show of a personality. I like it.
I fall into step beside her as she strides the short distance down the hall to the conference room. I hurry ahead of her at the last moment, holding the door open, and she strides in before me, murmuring her thanks. I let my gaze fall to her ass, appreciating the way it shifts and moves beneath the fabric of her dress. The simple black heels she wears are really nothing close to simple, considering that recognizable red I see flash as she walks.
Christian Louboutins. I know because Pilar says she feels sexy when she wears them, and so she wears them all the damn time. I swear the man designs shoes so that women feel sexy and men want their women wearing Louboutins and nothing else when they fuck them.