She stepped forward and extended her arm toward him. “Thank you.”
She braced herself this time, for the impact. But again, it proved pointless. Fire arced from her palm, up her arm and down her breasts, sensitizing them before continuing lower where a dull, insistent ache took up residence in her sex.
Loosing his hand, she shifted backward and forced herself not to rub her tingling palm over her thigh.
He dipped his chin. “See you tomorrow. Early.”
Taking that as the dismissal it was, she turned and exited the office. And as she walked back down the hallway, a little bit of the weight that had burdened her for the past few months began to lift. Just a little.
Yes, she had a long road ahead. But today, she’d put another foot on that road.
Maybe, just maybe, she was going to be all right.
Now if she could just keep her dirty mind—and hands—off her new boss.
CHAPTER TWO
“IFUCKINGHATEYOU.”
Erik gritted his teeth as a long, deep laugh greeted his announcement instead of the apology he deserved. That’s the very least a person should receive when they’d so clearly been set up by another.
“Aw, I love you, too,” Jeremy Dansen said, and Erik could easily imagine the wide grin on his face. Damn him. “Why do I get the feeling this passionate declaration has to do with my baby sister?”
Baby sister.
The hell he said. There was nothing babyish about Camille Dansen. She was a full-grown woman, and wasn’t that his problem in a nutshell? If only he could view her as his best friend’s little sister, then his life would be easier.
His dick would definitely have an easier go of it.
Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his head and turned around, staring through Forever Ink’s storefront window at the woman under discussion.
The woman who had claimed a starring role in his dreams. Dreams that could be contenders for several categories in the Adult Video News Awards.
Yeah, he’d keep that information to himself.
Jeremy probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing how Erik fantasized about fucking his sister six ways to Sunday in so many positions it’d make a porn star reconsider their career choice.
Yeah. He’ddefinitelykeep that to himself.
In the shop, Camille pushed through the swing door and strode out to the lobby, heading for the merchandise shelf, a clipboard in hand. He should look away, turn back around, do anything to avoid staring at her one second longer than necessary. Especially when she could catch him in the act.
But he didn’t.
Because truth? He enjoyed looking at her. Correction. Hecravedit.
Three weeks. Camille had been manning the front desk in Forever Ink for three weeks, but it seemed longer. It seemed like he’d spent his whole damn life wanting her. And yeah, he got how stupid that sounded considering he’d only met her. But his cock apparently didn’t care about semantics.
Not when it came to the thick, dark brown hair that fell in a shiny, sleek mass around her shoulders.
Not when it came to the lovely face that could’ve graced a painting by Johannes Vermeer that he’d studied in one of his college art appreciation classes. Easily.
Not when it came to the body that reminded him of another artist altogether. Peter Paul Rubens would’ve begged her to pose for him with all those lush, gorgeous curves.
Especially when those curves were poured into one of her tight skirts. Like today. He narrowed his eyes on her through the window. Today’s green skirt molded to generous hips, thick thighs and flared just above the knees. Paired with a white shirt that accentuated breasts he’d caressed and tasted more times than he could count in his dreams, she was a walking cock tease.
To be fair, though, she could be in a burlap sack with a serious halitosis issue and she’d still make him hard.
Something else he’d keep to himself.
