Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

She sat by the fire in her chamber, book in hand. When he cleared his throat, announcing his entrance, she turned her head and met his gaze.

Nothing fragile about the look in those blue eyes. They were steely. Determined.

Brave.

She set down her book and stood, plastering the fabric to her body.

Her nipples were pebbled, fine points, and very much visible through the chemise.

Just like that, he was hard. Painfully so.

It made him angry.

“Do you provoke me?” he growled.

The minx didn’t even blink. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Are you not afraid?” he asked, stepping out of the shadows into the light of the fire.

She did not flinch. Barely moved a muscle. Not the usual response he got to his presence.

“Are we going to keep asking each other questions without answering them?”

He would not smile.

Would. Not.

“You should be afraid,” he said.

“I am not.” Her eyes flashed. “Shall you punish me for it?”

Oh, he’d punish her all right.

Punish her by making her as hot and needful as he felt.

Punish her by making her shake and moan.

By making her take him into her mouth on her knees.

Callum reached out. Took her breast in his hand. Her breath caught when he ran his thumb over her nipple.

“I shall indeed,” he said.

He gathered the chemise in his fists and pulled it over her head.

The flash in her eyes burned hotter.

Whew. Nothing like some play on power dynamics to get me hot and bothered.

Only when I reach between my legs later that night in bed, I don’t imagine it’s Callum the angry Scot touching me.

I imagine it’s Greyson the cocky venture capitalist.

He’d say my name. He’d pull my hair.

And then he’d make me come.Chapter TwoGreysonShe’s infuriating.

Everything about Julia makes me feel like I’m on the verge of bursting an artery. Or bursting out of my pants.

Case in point: I catch a whiff of her perfume—just a hint, sweetening the otherwise dusty air as I step inside the barn—and I’m already at half-mast.

Motherfucker. At least it looks like no one else is around. The parking lot is deserted except for her bright orange Mini Cooper.

One month. I’ve been around the woman all of one month. But mercy, it’s felt like a lifetime.

I stupidly allowed myself to flirt with her the day we met. I was just so drawn to her. Her honesty. Her sharp, shameless wit. Moth to a flame and all that bullshit.

But I won’t make that mistake again.

I do not mix business and pleasure. My firm—and my family—are on the line, and in my right mind, I’d never put them at risk by fucking an employee.

Too bad I’m not in my right mind around Julia. Probably explains why I haven’t just put my brother, Ford, on this project. That, and I don’t want to put too much on his plate. As a single dad raising his three-year-old daughter, Bryce, he’s always juggling a lot.

I still have to try to keep this woman at arm’s length. For her sake, and for mine.

Luckily—shockingly—we make a decent team. We argue a lot over the budget, but we somehow make it work. When I push her, she (mostly) manages to find creative solutions to problems or ideas that would otherwise put us in the red. My contractor reports she always shows up, even if she’s late. His sub-contractors adore her.

Julia is talented, hardworking, and clearly flexible.

Unique as hell, too. It’s her quick mind. Quick mouth. The way she dresses like some sexy bohemian Stevie Nicks goddess. How fearless she is when she’s calling me out or coming after me. The truth doesn’t scare her, and apparently neither do I.

Girl does not give two fucks about what I think. About what anyone thinks.

I give too many fucks. About everything.

We couldn’t be more different if we tried.

But I swear, fighting this bizarre, hugely inappropriate, hugely inconvenient boner I have for her has turned me into a legit monster.

I roared a lot to begin with. Now—

Now I’m one of Khaleesi’s dragons. I breathe fire and bring instant death upon anyone who crosses my path. I’m a broody jerk when I go too long without seeing her. I’m a broody jerk when I do see her.

It’s a vicious cycle. One I can’t seem to break, as evidenced by today’s visit. I don’t need to be here. But Julia was on the schedule this afternoon for a site visit. I told myself I came to double check the HVAC install and have a conversation with her about reworking some budget stuff.

Deep down, I know I’m full of shit.

Julia is standing in the center of the barn, facing away from me. Bent at the waist, elbows on a sawhorse as she looks down at the plans draped over it. One booted foot taps softly against the worn floorboards in time to a silent song. Wild, wavy blond hair everywhere.