“Hey. Anyone ever tell you to just relax, Hoult? We’re at a party. Enjoy yourself.” He gave me a shake. “Tell you what, man.” This was the part where he suggested we hit the club to drink and fuck all night before getting to business on Monday. “Why don’t we see what’s going on at 1OAK tonight? We’ll grab Carter, take a spin in one of your cars, and we’ll have a grand finale of balls to the wall partying before buckling down on Monday and really getting to – ” He cut off. “Fuck.”
I looked at him, almost certain that wasn’t the actual end of his sentence. “What?” I asked with irritation.
“Who’s that fuckin’ beauty?” he asked, his face lit up like a Vegas slot machine. Ridiculous. I had to hide my resentment as I turned toward the bar to see what he was seeing.
The long, black hair struck me first. Then it was the knockout fucking figure wrapped in a long, red dress. Gotta give it to him this time, I thought wryly as my gaze moved the rest of the way up to the girl’s face.
When my eyes locked on hers, my heart jumped into my throat.
I stepped back.
“The hell is she doing here?” I hadn’t meant for the question to escape my mouth, but it came out in a shocked mutter that more than caught Turner’s attention.
“What? You know her? Who is she?”
She was the woman I was never supposed to see again, yet here we were. She was a thousand times sexier than I remembered, and I was at a complete loss for words.
“Jesus, Hoult. Hello? Don’t keep me hanging. I’m dying here.”
I tore my gaze off her to look at Turner’s stare fixed with a comical urgency on me. I noted with amusement that for the first time tonight, he had come alive.
“She’s my assistant,” I said.
The words rolled off my tongue before I really thought about what I was saying. I cleared my throat when I finally processed what I’d just done.
“Your assistant? Why haven’t you brought her around? Are you fucking crazy?” Turner laughed joyously like he’d just hit the jackpot.
I glanced up at her again. She’d spotted me with those big eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to make a beeline
for her, rip that dress off her tits and bend that perfect body right over that bar.
But I had a lumbering idiot to tend to.
“What?” I frowned at Turner.
“Jesus – I asked why you’ve never brought her around before. If she’s your assistant, where the hell has she been?”
I thought on my feet.
“She was away the past few weeks,” I said, my heart beating faster as I came up with my story. “She was overseeing the renovation and management change at the Biarritz resort. Her flight just got in tonight, so I wasn’t expecting to see her here.”
Not bad. I had to give it to myself as Turner nodded, accepting my lie.
“No shit,” he muttered, both of us staring at her now. “Poor girl just wants to party.”
I suppressed my smirk as she blushed and squirmed in her seat. I knew the look.
Her pussy was wet.
Christ. I clenched my jaw, wishing badly that I could go back to tasting every inch of her at my leisure. From as far as I stood, I could see her perfect nipples were hard, straining against that thin, red dress. Fuck me. I knew exactly what they looked like under there. I remembered exactly how fucking sweet they were on my tongue, and my mouth watered with the need to suck them again.
But outwardly, I wore no hint of expression as Turner grinned at me.
“Hoult, I owe you an apology,” he declared, patting my back. “I thought you were too straight-laced to hire smoking hot girls like her. Fuck did my dad call them again?” He snapped his fingers when he thought of it. “Office-wreckers.”
“I hire based on capability, and I have a strict rule against interoffice dating.”
“You’re crazy.” Turner licked his lips. “I mean Christ, do you see those tits? Look at those tits.”