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Cruel (The Buck Boys Heroes 2)

Page 34

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What the fuck do I need right now?

Peace and solace or her in my bed beneath me, taking each deep thrust of my…

“Mr. Bane would like to get started with the interview immediately,” Nigel lies. “It would be preferable if we wrapped it up for the day before six.”

I turn to him and silently quiz him with a lift of one eyebrow.

“I have dinner plans, sir,” he explains. “An old friend is in town.”

“I have dinner plans too,” Juliet chimes in. “With a new friend.”

That piques my interest enough that I momentarily forget that I’m pissed with the pastry escapades.

“Am I right to assume it’s with a gentleman?” Nigel asks.

“Slate,” she says quickly. “His name is Slate.”

“That’s edgy.” Nigel smiles at her. “You mentioned that he’s a new friend. Is this the all-important first date?”

Keeping her gaze trained on Nigel’s face, she nods. “We’re going to keep it casual. Jeans, T-shirts, maybe a burger, and then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

“Slate is a very lucky man.” Nigel shoots me a look, but I ignore him.

“We need to get started, Juliet.” I summon her with a curl of my finger.

She starts on her approach with the pastry box still in her hands.

I tilt my chin up. “Leave those on the table.”

She does just that but steals something soft and fluffy from the box before she turns to face me again. She takes a bite of it, and that’s immediately followed by a slow lick of her tongue over her bottom lip.

It’s carnal in a way I’m not expecting. The need it feeds within me is so fierce that I want to stalk toward her, grab her, and tug that plump lip between my teeth.

“I’m ready,” she announces before she takes a second bite.

I turn my back, not sure if I can handle another stroke of her tongue over her lip.

I’m hard from watching her eat.

I close my eyes, rub a hand over my forehead, and start in the direction of her office, hoping that by the time I face her again, my cock will have calmed the hell down.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Juliet

“We’re going to continue this tonight, Juliet.”

Since he’s not looking at me, I roll my eyes.

Why did I think that was going to happen?

Kavan Bane is clearly a man who demands attention and sucks all the fun out of the room with one big gulp.

I saw it this morning when I brought pastries for the staff.

I thought Nara deserved a treat since she works her fingers to the bone trying to please a man who didn’t even finish his sandwich at lunch today.

Who doesn’t eat all of a sandwich that contains prosciutto?

Lunch was my choice again.

I opted for the sandwich, a crostini slathered in roasted tomato puree for the appetizer, and then I insisted that we dine on the pastries I brought for dessert.

Bane marched out of the room then.

I watched him leave, admiring the cut of his shirt and the way his ass looked in his pants. He had ditched the suit jacket again this morning after I questioned him about a subsidiary of Bane Enterprises that is facing legal action.

I dug that little nugget out of a lawsuit registry in Arizona.

I thought if I threw something negative at him, he’d volley with something positive.

That was an epic fail.

He spent the better part of an hour schooling me on the legal reach of a suit like that and how it doesn’t impact Bane Enterprises’ bottom line in the least.

I listened intently while staring at him because he really is that good-looking, especially unshaven.

“I have a date,” I say because I have no idea if he was paying attention when I was spilling the details to Nigel this morning in the foyer.

“Is it as important as this?”

Um…yes.

I keep that to myself and smile. “I think we should regroup and start fresh in the morning.”

It’s a solid statement, considering the fact that I spent much of today waiting to speak to him.

He sliced out that hour this morning for my law lesson and then almost an hour at lunch before he staged the pastry protest and stomped out of the room.

The only other time I spoke to him was a brief fifteen minutes late this afternoon when he caught me flipping through the magazines on his coffee table.

Unsurprisingly, they all featured articles that mentioned Bane Enterprises.

Not one of them contained information that isn’t readily available online.

I was sure that he’d dismiss me early again today, but that didn’t happen.

It’s now nearing seven, and I was hoping to head home to change into something less sheer for my first date with Slate.

“I think we should have dinner together and discuss the future of Bane Enterprises.”

I search for a comeback, but before I can pull something out of the blue, his phone rings.

I close my eyes briefly, praying that it’s a business catastrophe that demands his immediate attention. The plus to that is tomorrow he can fill me in on the details so I can add it to my article.



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