Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Pull up Instalook and type in Journeythefashiongirl, all in one word.” My eyes move to his then back to my phone, fingers typing out what he said, not needing to completely look where I’m typing.
“You’ll get your answer there. We may not know a whole lot about one another, but damn, it sucks that you’d think that way about me.” It all clicks together. My gaze goes from Wylde to Journey’s Instalook page. It’s the eyes, not the color but the shape, the same jawline, and even the hair line is exactly the same. Other than that, you probably couldn’t tell.
“Shit, she’s your sister or your niece?” I ask, because honestly, it could be one of the two.
“Journey’s my sister. Mom was obsessed with the band even years after the seventies and eighties started fizzling out. Dad said it was only fair seeing as he got to pick my name.” His hand is still on my cheek, and while some people might be upset with themselves jumping to conclusions, I am not.
“Well, to be fair, Tyra and I looked through every single one of your posts, which aren’t many, by the way, going as far as every tag, and still couldn’t find a match,” I admit.
“That would be because we made a pact never to use one another in social media to get a leg up. Now that you know Journey’s my sister, how about you give me your mouth, sweetheart?” My core clenches, annoyed that it’s grasping at air and not the feel of Wylde pressed against me. The position he has us in makes that impossible, the same with me giving him my mouth.
“That depends. Technically, I’m still your employee, and you’re still my boss. This could get messy. I’m breaking all the rules and could fall flat on my face. Then where would I be?” I voice my concerns, the ones that have been plaguing me along with Tyra’s stuff, except hers is so bad I’ll be surprised if we don’t have to rearrange her schedule for the remainder of the week.
“It won’t happen. Besides, it was Monica and Pierre’s idea for this to happen all along. I’ll even revise the employee handbook, reprint it to say, ‘I, Wylder Hayes, am the only one allowed to have a standing relationship with Celeste Reyes.’” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, bending his big, muscled body down until our lips are a hairsbreadth away from each other. I can smell him—citrus and clove, dark and heady, going to my senses faster than a supernova. Wylde takes my lips, nipping at my lower lip until I’m moaning, allowing him to gain entrance. Our tongues slide against each other, his more dominant than mine, and when I go to pull away after only a few minutes, needing a breather before I spontaneous combust, Wylde doesn’t tolerate it. His hand fists the hair at the back of my head, his other hand gliding down to my waist, pulling me closer to him while widening my thighs, wedging his body between them.
“Wylde.” I’m breathless, fingers digging into his hard chest, wishing we weren’t at work. Our shirts would be gone, especially his. I want to see and feel all that male hardness beneath, want my lips to taste his skin, finding out what sparks a flame for him.
“Fuck, Celeste. Do you feel what you do to me? I’m completely forgetting where I am. Come with me.” Wylde kisses me one last time, his hand still on my hip, this time guiding me off the chair I’m sitting on. “Go out to dinner with me?”
“Sure. I’m sorry for hiding from you this week. I won’t apologize for jumping to conclusions. You have a sister, so I’m sure you’d understand if this situation happened to her.” I stand my ground while picking up my purse off the counter.
“I didn’t do much better.” He couldn’t because I was hiding. Being a coward was easier than confronting all these feelings that have consumed my mind, body, and soul.
“Truce?” I concede, even if some of this is on me as well.
“Yeah, sweetheart, truce.” Wylde’s hand slides from the back of my head down to my lower back, and even through my scrub top I can feel the heat pouring from his hand, searing my body.
SIXTEEN
Wylde
We were walking to the parking garage when Celeste asked if she could go home and change. It didn’t bother me that she was in her work uniform. Fuck, Celeste’s body was made for it. Either way, I wasn’t going to tell her no she couldn’t change. It was a simple fifteen-minute ride to her place. I park my Bugatti Chiron next to her Audi A5 in the older but well-kept up apartment complex. It’s Vegas. The only way people will pay the obscene amount is if the living situation still looks top notch, even if it’s dated and needs some remodeling.