I spent last night fighting off thoughts of Emery. Our lunch stuck with me the rest of the day, which I hate. I hate the distraction. I hate the…weakness. For a woman I haven’t so much as kissed. I kept picturing her smile and the way she leaned forward as I talked about my background. I thought over what I’d shared and wondered why I’d even given her those details, no matter how small they were. Hell, why had I invited her to lunch in the first place?
There’s something else at work here. If this were another time, I could’ve asked Robert what he thought. He was one of the only friends I would’ve trusted with such sensitive information. But since he wasn’t here—because, I reminded myself with a jolt of cold reality, he was fucking my wife—I was forced to interrogate myself.
Which I despised.
I’m still thinking about it this morning as I shave, running the sharp razor over my jaw and down my neck. The reality is that I’m a man with everything. The CEO of my own company. A visionary. A man who doesn’t want for a lay. I’ve got any number of women in my phone who I could call up and have here, moaning on my bed, within thirty minutes.
Maybe that’s the problem? There’s no challenge to those women. I know they’d beg if I asked. I know they’d moan in pleasure without asking. With Emery, I don’t know. I think she’s attracted to me. The blushing, the lip biting, the flare of arousal in her gaze. That was all real, right? I saw it. The way her eyes lingered on me and her skin flushed. But. There’s always the possibility she’s not interested. Maybe she’s just shy or intimidated or enjoys practicing at flirtation.
Then there’s the fact that I shouldn’t be pursuing her at all. She’s young, practically a child in the ways of the world. A girl who’s never had her heart broken, or if she has, it was a simple break, the kind that ends in a goodbye kiss and some leftover memories to be reheated on a lonely night. Nothing real or devastating.
I need to put her aside, I decide. Bracing my hands on the sink I examine myself in the mirror for this mental tough talk. Emery deserves to live in her safe bubble, believing the lies of romance and love, for a while. I won’t think about her. Won’t pursue her. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about. More contracts and, always, the next big idea, looming in the distance. There’s the possibility of Pink really being a gold mine. I need to make decisions to keep my business booming. Pussy can’t be what distracts me, no matter how appealing it might be.
Exhaling I stand straight and finish up the shave before dressing for the day. Once I’m in the car with Leo, I scroll through my phone, glancing at the stock market and flipping through my email for any particular fires. It’s all boring, run-of-the-mill stuff, though there is the daily email from Blythe asking me to sign the papers. She claims she’s giving me a final chance to do this right. Fuck her, I think, as I delete the email.
Ramon’s in the lobby, waiting for an elevator, when I walk in. He gives me a wave, and I fight the annoyance that’s started to bubble up for me whenever Ramon’s around. It’s not Ramon’s fault that he managed to marry a nice girl and have his nice family. I can’t keep holding that against him. He’s a good guy, I tell myself. Besides, he’s the best I’ve got. Shockingly, no one else lined up for that vacated best friend role.
“I’ve been putting out those feelers I promised,” he tells me. “And I think our instinct was right. There’s something to the idea the kid pitched. I’m not totally convinced, but I’m getting closer. I’m having drinks with a friend of mine to get more intel.”
“Yeah?” I ask, feeling a little guilty that I’d forgotten about it. “It felt like another tech rabbit hole to me.”
“I hear that,” Ramon says. “That’s why I’m seeing Jade. She’ll know if this is something to pursue.”
I nod. “Good. If we’re going into something like this, I need to know it’s—”
“—a sure thing?” Ramon says, grinning at his own callback to the kid’s pitch. I laugh.
“Exactly,” I say.
“You know,” Ramon says, “Jade’s a friend of my wife. If you wanted to join me on the drinks…”
I roll my eyes at his lack of subtlety. “Are you trying to set me up, Ramon?”
He holds up his hands. “Guilty. But only if you want me to, boss.”
“I’m still technically married,” I remind him.
“We both know that’s not what’s stopping you,” he says. “But if you say you’re not into it, I respect that.”
What I want to tell him is that the last thing I need is to be set up with his wife’s friend who, I can guarantee, is looking for a relationship—something I’ve effectively sworn off. Sex without strings is the only way I want to operate.
“I appreciate it,” I say, thanking God that our elevator’s finally opening up on the floor. And I do. Ramon’s a good guy, even if he’s pushing for something that’ll never happen.
“Good morning, Mr. Duke,” Sandy says with a smile, handing me a cup of coffee. “Ready for a busy day of taking over the world?”
I chuckle. “You make me sound so nefarious.”
“I meant it in a good way,” she says with a wink. “The good kind of taking over the world. Now, are you ready for me to brief you on your schedule for the day?”
She gives me the rundown of the day, the meetings I’m expected in and the calls I’ll need to make. I nod, letting business cover my mind, erasing all thoughts of Emery.
That is, until I see her. She’s in the conference room, sitting in a chair with a notebook in her lap. She’s being diligent, the pen moving across the page as she looks from speaker to speaker.
“Sandy, who’s meeting in the conference room right now?”
Sandy glances past me to the room.
“Hm, looks like marketing,” Sandy says. “I didn’t book you. Should I have?”
Normally, I don’t go to the marketing meetings. It’s a well-oiled part of the machine, one I spent a lot of time to make sure it could run smoothly without me. I get emails with meeting notes after, and it’s just not something I normally have a lot of thoughts on. I’ve hired the best, and they don’t need me.
“No, Sandy, it’s fine,” I say. “But I might pop in and see how it’s going.”
I tell myself that I’m not thinking with my dick. It wouldn’t hurt to pay more attention to marketing. I live and breathe for this company, after all. I’m going to just check out the meeting and remind myself that Emery is not what I need. A closer look will remind me that she’s an intern, nothing more than another girl trying to make it in the big city, and not worth another thought.
I stride across the office until I reach the conference room and push my way inside. A few of the executives cast me wide-eyed glances, including Katiyah, my head of marketing.
“Mr. Duke,” Katiyah says. “To what do we owe this lovely surprise?”
“Nothing to worry about, Katiyah,” I say, offering her a smile. “I just thought I’d drop in. Carry on.”
I wave off a chair when it’s offered. I prefer to stand near the door, leaning against the wall as I cross my arms. I sweep the room with my gaze. Katiyah jumps right back into her presentation, lowering the lights so she can project her PowerPoint for the group. It’s something about the latest app we’re launching, but I’m only pretending to listen.
Instead, I’m watching her. Emery. She’s still taking notes and hasn’t glanced in my direction, but I can feel that it’s an effort. She brings the pen to her mouth, tracing her bottom lip. The image of her doing that same motion with my dick makes me harden. I can envision her bent over my bed with her hands tied above her head, blindfolded, as I made her moan my name. She’d beg to reciprocate until I let her take my cock in her mouth. She’d need to be taught, and I’d relish the teaching, showing her exactly what I like. How to tease me with her tongue before taking me in her mouth. How hard to suck while pumping me with her hand and swirling her tongue. I’d take that squeaky-clean image of hers and dirty it up so thoroughly she’d never come again without thinking of me.
This little fantasy is so filthy that I have to look away lest I get a full erection right here in the middle of the meeting, dimmed lights or not.
Still, I can’t keep my eyes off of her for long. I’m like an addict, needing another hit, another glance. I want her to notice me too. I want her to look at me.
After a minute, she does look. Her eyes slide to me, not their usual wide-eyed bunny look, but half-lidded, like she can see right into my naughty thoughts. And even if she does see through me, she doesn’t look away. Instead, she holds my eye contact for several seconds, biting her lip a bit before she smiles.
What the hell? This isn’t the doe-eyed girl from lunch yesterday. I know what that smile means. Did she read some kind of self-help seduction book last night or a fucking Seventeen magazine?
I leave the meeting. I don’t need this kind of confusion. I was ready to let her go, but now, she’s burned into my brain, even when I’m back in my office. All I can think about is if she could keep that smile on her lips with my face between her legs. Somehow, I doubt she could.