Jake

JAKE

I shake Paige's hand again when she offers it to me and I sigh when Eli closes the office door behind her. She did very well in hiding her shock, but a small sliver of panic glazed over her eyes for a second.

Eli leans back against the closed door and groans low. "My God, did you see those legs?"

I had, indeed. Long and shapely under that tight navy fabric. The pale skin of her bare ankles that I bet my hand can fit clean around. That I bet is soft and smooth, like the rest of her.

Those details rack me with guilt.

She's too young. She's our best friend's daughter. She's our employee. So, these thoughts are unproductive and wrong.

Yet, heat lingers in my veins as my gaze unfocused on the seat she occupied minutes ago.

Henry tips forward like he's ready to jump up and shoulder-check Eli into a nearby bookcase. "Don't talk about her like that."

"What?" Eli throws up his hands. "Like you didn't notice?"

"That's Patrick's daughter…" Henry says it like Eli is slow, and I rub my forehead at their brewing argument.

I can't say that I don't agree with Eli. The jolt of how much Paige has changed still hasn't worn off. Her features turned delicate in her face, sharper, but as much as life has matured her, I caught glimpses of a deep innocence underneath her confidence. It called to me in a primal way.

Good thing she and I won't work too closely together. I can already feel how awkward I'll be the next time I see her father. Not that I can avoid her completely, although that might be the smartest thing for me to do.

I never did well introducing myself to women. When they came to me for a night, my silence—my asshole-ish behavior—isn't hard to handle. It suits my preferences in bed, but I've been told too many times that I'm not boyfriend material.

Even at my age.

"Yeah, and he should of warned us that his youngest daughter turned into a fucking babe." Eli grabbed the back of his chair and bent closer. "I had to mentally beat down my cock's want to be hard the entire time she sat here."

Henry's features darken, and I huff, standing. I don't want to hear any of this. It hits too close to home. I tell him, "Shut your idiot mouth."

But Eli only grins. We've shared too many women to not share preferences. And Paige hit every one of them so far across the three of us. It isn't safe.

If we keep talking about it, it would grow out of hand. And I simply don't have the time for the drama and fanfare. I have work to do that this will distract me from. I wave at them both and exit as Eli laughs behind me.

"See? I'm not the only one that's had my libido zapped. Ain't that right, ?"

I shoot him the middle finger before leaving the door open on my way out. It's the only thing that will truly keep our CEO's mouth shut because he wouldn't jeopardize our company by talking about Paige where anyone could hear him. Besides just Henry and me.

My office is on the other side of the shared space. Far enough to be separated from the bustle of the office and close enough to be included when need be. Most of my work is handled via email and a few short phone calls.

Or at least, my day-to-day is.

I yank my tie loose from its grip around my neck—a silk noose slowly trying to suffocate me.

My pristine workspace reflects chrome and various shades of gray. Clean, tidy, and sparse, I swivel behind my desk and tap my computer to life. I have to review the budget for the current upgrades in our London hotel. It was one of our first international locations, so the front desk technology needs upgrades to keep up with our revitalized booking systems. And the suites need to be redecorated, but if I let our designers have everything they want, they will bankrupt us.

Sighing and slumping back into my chair, I close my eyes as the computer goes through its morning checks, and Paige's doe eyes reflect back at me in the deep red darkness.

I refrain from imagining her in any particular way, but I let her face linger in my thoughts. The way she called me sir on the way out, so soft and trainable.

Arousal pumps through me, and Paige licks her lips in my mind.

I can't be doing this. But I can't seem to stop. My inner caveman relishes in the idea of tying her up and making her mine. And the mere thought has me tumbling down a sinful slope of silk ropes knotting around her smooth wrists and ankles. Of covering her eyes to keep her in suspense. Of how her mouth will fall open when she gasps from every unexpected touch.

The farther I let my mind go, the dirtier it gets until I have her mentally splayed in my bed with Eli under her and Henry on top of her, taking her at the same time, but I get the crown jewel of her plump mouth.

I jerk myself back to reality as an email dings on my computer. Giving myself a shake, I spent far too long distracting myself with impossibilities.

But the routine of answering emails and scouring spreadsheets sets me right.

I am not a weak man. I will not give in to those temptations.

An appointment reminder chimes on my phone, and it's the best splash of cold water I could get. The investor dinner next week where I'll be the sole company spokesman meant to network and charm investors and their families. It's the kind of thing I beg out of at every opportunity.

I have to get my tux cleaned and confirm my date from the agency today. The second is an easy enough call to make, but the former means taking a long lunch. I could get someone else to do it for me, but I hate the thought of sending someone into my house to retrieve it. I'm not a fan of people in my space.

The sweet scent of freshly baked apples with a hint of citrus and nutmeg hits me before a firm, muted knock sounds at my open door. Those small knuckles drop to reveal Paige's form in the opening. Big blue eyes pin me in place, and eternity stretches in a mere snap.

It's almost like my circling thoughts made her materialize in my space.

She's lost the jacket, her silk shirt clinging to her, buttons taut across her chest, and the fabric is seamlessly tucked into those tight navy slacks.

Clearing my throat, I raise a brow at her. "Miss Monroe?"

Her mouth pulls into a small pout, but a small glint flashes in her eyes. "Sir."

I nearly growl, wanting to show her what calling me sir will get her, but I frown instead. "," I insist.

A teasing smile fills her eyes with mirth, even though her mouth hardly twitches. "Paige," she retorts.

Touché. I refuse to smile back. I want to though, and that strikes me oddly. Most people get on my nerves in a matter of seconds. Minutes if I'm lucky.

"You need something, Miss Monroe?"

Finally, a small smile. "Yes. I—can I pick your brain, sir?"

Pick my brain? Usually, project managers want to keep me out of as much as they possibly can, except to gain my approval on their budgets, which almost never happens the first go around.

"Sure. Have a seat." I gesture at one of my chairs.

Paige steps in and partially closes the door. Her scent is headier, like she recently devoured an entire bushel of apples. It hits me hard as she sits, and I have to clench my fists under my desk.

I'm in serious trouble.