Wait, no, I need to stop this.
Dragging my mouth off his, I pull away gasping. “Don’t call me babe.”
Those blue eyes flash with coppery flames. “Anything else you don’t want me to do?”
Here’s my chance to stop this. “No.”
Then I’m on him again, thighs clenching around him as my hungry mouth fuses with his. He tastes fiery and sweet and forbidden. I can’t get enough of his tongue in my mouth, his hands raking roughly over my body.
This isn’t me, not any of this.
Not the light, breathy moans, not the fierce way I’m dragging my nails down his back. The whole thing’s a blur of flying clothes and heated growls. At one point, Luke breaks the kiss to ask if we should find a bed.
“No.” I snarl like a tiger with its tail in a trap. “Fuck me here, now. Please.” I add that last word as an afterthought, not wanting to be rude.
Luke doesn’t seem concerned about my manners. He’s peeling me out of my black Amiri jeans, then pulling a condom from his wallet. When he takes his time tearing it open, I snatch it impatiently and rip at the wrapper with my teeth.
Maybe that’s when it happened.
I was crazed, so consumed by heatwaves of lust and long-simmering rage. My incisors or manicured nails must’ve poked through the latex.
Or maybe I rode him so hard that I pierced that frail prophylactic with the force of my anger-fueled coochie.
That’s the only reason I can come up with for why I’m sitting here now at my dressing table, holding a stick with two little lines on it.
Two little lines set to change my whole life.
Dropping the stick in the trash can, I move to the sink and wash up with Le Labo hand soap. After drying my hands on a thick Teema towel, I pick up my phone and text one, simple word.
* * *
Help.
Chapter 2
Luke
“Good job, guys.” Tucking my nail gun into its weatherproof case, I nod to the men on my crew. “Based on how far we’ve made it this month, we’re on track to finish a week ahead of schedule.”
Two guys from the roofing team trade high fives as my sheetrock contractor packs up his tools. He lets down his tailgate with a bang. “Wanna grab beers at Big One’s to celebrate? It’s six-dollar smashburger night.”
“Wish I could.” Nothing sounds better than a beer and some discounted beef.
Nothing, except the chance to see Hazel Spencer alone. “Gotta meet with the boss lady.”
One of the roofing guys gapes. “Ice Queen? You’re meeting her in person?”
“Holy shit.” His buddy goes visibly pale. “I heard she’s a bitch on wheels.”
“Knock it off.” I glare at them both so they know I’m not kidding around. “Ms. Spencer’s a professional. She doesn’t deserve that shit.”
Both guys duck their heads. “Sorry, boss.”
My sheetrock contractor slams his tailgate shut. “She asked to see you?”
The way he says it sounds like I’ve been summoned for execution. I do my best to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like I get called to company headquarters all the time.
“Yeah, got an email this morning.” I’m kinda annoyed by how formal it was. “I’m meeting her in the boardroom at five thirty.”
