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 swear to God he’s doing this on purpose.
“Miss Lévêque, care to answer?”
“Huh?” I shake my head, eyes blinking rapidly. I was so not paying attention.
Rome’s face turns stern, but there is a sparkle in his eye that tells me he’s amused. “It would help if you would pay attention rather than daydreaming.”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I haven’t had a good week. What was the question?”
Smirking behind his pen, Rome says, “How are we with our partnership with Adventure Protein Bars and Fuelade?”
“All set. Contracts have been signed, and products have already been shot for ads.”
“Good.” He taps his pen on his pad of paper and says, “That’s all for this evening. It’s late, get home and get some sleep. The next few weeks are going to be trying as we narrow down on release date. I’ll have Lauren type up the notes and send them out tomorrow.” He stands from his chair as well as everyone else. I take my time gathering my things, knowing Rome is the last to leave the conference room.
Hands in his pockets now, stoic as ever, he watches his employees filter out of the room one by one. This was the Rome I fell for, the one who caught my attention. Business minded, relentless, and vastly intelligent when it comes to running a company. But the Rome I get to see outside of the office, that’s the one I’ve become addicted to, and it’s about time I feed my addiction.
I stand from my chair, push it under the table, and then meander my way to Rome who’s studying my every move.
When I step up to him, he gives me a full once-over. “Haven’t had a good week, huh?”
I shake my head, pouting my lip. “No, not at all.”
Hands still in his pockets, he tips his body forward, getting close to me, and his cologne seeps into my veins, awakening everything inside me. “It would be best if you don’t bring your personal life into the office, Miss Lévêque.”
The giant ass.
I flip my hair to the side and clutch my notes to my chest. “It would be best if you didn’t eye-fuck me during meetings, Mr. Blackburn.”
The smallest smirk passes over his lips, barely reaching his eyes. “Don’t unbutton your blouse like that, and I won’t eye-fuck you.”
Chest puffed, I say, “Stop trying to prove a point and fuck me already, Rome.”
I’m trying to garner a reaction out of him, but he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Instead, he rocks back on his heels and says, “Nah, I’m good,” and then gestures toward the door for me to exit.
I’m going to kill him.
Huffing, I walk past him only to feel his hand float to the small of my back and his body fall behind me, chest close, breath mixing with mine.
I pause in my attempt to leave as his hand moves a little lower to just above my butt. A sharp intake of air hits my lungs along with his cologne making me feel dizzy and turned on all at once.
My nipples pucker when his thumb glides over my back.
My lips part when I feel his chest touch my shoulder.
And my breathing starts to become erratic when his mouth lowers to my ear.
Ever so quietly, he whispers, “This whole week, this right here, this is what you call foreplay, babe. One thousand dollars says if I shifted your thong to the side and felt that delicious pussy it would be soaking wet.”
Goddamn him.
Chuckling from my silence, he whispers again, his lips grazing my ear, “Don’t ever fucking say I don’t have good foreplay game, because you damn well know that I do. Scurry on to my apartment, strip down, and have your legs spread by the time I get there. I’m going to fuck you until morning.”
I want to be the defiant girlfriend, the one that tells him to fuck off, but I am so beyond turned on right now that I nod and exit the conference room with one thing on my mind: deliciously hard, hot sex with Rome.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ROME
“How was your day?” Peyton asks, looking pretty as fuck sitting across from me, her hair tied up in a tight bun, her dress accentuating her beautiful collarbone.
Not a single damn day goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am. What a lucky bastard I am who won the girl.
But here I am, Peyton across from me in a restaurant I wouldn’t have caught myself dead in a few weeks ago, and yet I’m here for her because she’s never been.
“Fine,” I answer, looking around.
Stained glass chandeliers of all shapes, sizes, colors and themes hang sporadically from the ceiling. Dainty white chairs and tables fill the space while little pom-pom bullshit things dangle everywhere.
It’s a little girl’s dream.