for oxygen. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled.
“‘fraid not.” I felt him get closer, and in response, my body broke out in a fever pitch, eyes springing open to watch as he approached like the very predator he was. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Ha!” I spat, backing up on my heels. “I’m not working with you.”
“You want to have the mayor at your fancy party again next year, you’ll work with me,” he challenged me.
I glared at him. “I have a staff of five; someone else can work with you.”
“You want to keep getting cozy with Beau, you’ll work with me.” He seemed angry, but my temper could go toe-to-toe with his, even on an off day.
“That’s none of your business.” He took another step towards me, but instead of retreating, I took one towards him.
“It was my business when you had your tongue in my mouth at the gala he paid for.”
“Fuck you.” This was getting old. He had no right to judge me. I wasn’t a slut. Women were allowed to date multiple men. That was the exact reason the term dating was coined. It’s the twenty-first century, after all.
“It was my business when you spent an hour pressed up against me before running off to him.”
I poked his chest with my finger. “Are you jealous? Seriously?” I mocked him. “How petty.”
“Tell me, Charleston.” He spoke low and dangerous.
I paused, my hand coming to rest at my hip, arching a distained eyebrow in his direction. If he wanted me to be a bitch, I could surely play the part.
“Is it exhausting to be so remarkably cynical?”
“Cynicism is for the weak and uneducated,” I countered his argument. “I’m a realist, Mr. Hart. Last I checked, that has yet to be deemed a felony.”
He smirked. “Or perhaps, more simply, a pessimist.”
“You’re quite rude,” I accused.
He trailed a finger down the open zipper of my leather jacket, his voice humming with a confidence that made me want to throw something at him. “Perhaps I think you can take it.”
“Or perhaps you’re just an asshole.”
My pulse was so loud in my head with his hands on me that I could barely think, let alone succumb to intelligent speech.
His dark chuckle radiated wickedly through my bones, the sound giving way to the traitorous heat engulfing my senses. “I look forward to working with you,” he drawled. “Perhaps I’ll get a chance to see just how much of me you can take, Miss Smith.”
Working vigorously to keep my jaw from hitting the proverbial deck, I drew my lips together in a tight purse. “Perhaps not,” I deadpanned, taking the file and tossing the contract onto his desk. “E-mail me if you have any questions regarding the scheduling or layout.”
“No kiss goodbye?”
I’d never had anyone in my life treat me the way he did. He pushed my buttons, just because he liked to see the reaction.
“Fuck you, Maverick Hart, and the horse you rode in on.”
Walking out of his office, I wanted to roll my eyes at the subconscious way my hips swung in a flirtatious, exaggerated manor.
Great, now I’m even annoying myself.
I waved a muted goodbye to Gladys, pushing through the double doors of Hart Securities. I growled obscenities under my breath. The steel in my spine was dependant on having the upper hand with the men in my life. It was a necessary exchange of power to maintain my functioning addiction.
It’s much too easy to lose control of the high, or in this case, the man, if I can’t control the dose.
Maverick Hart is absolutely the kind of man I could overdose on.
Reaching my Range Rover, I pressed a hand against the glass to steady my body as I kicked the five-inch pumps off my aching feet. Snatching them up off the ground, I momentarily wished I’d launched one of them at his pompous ass mid-conversation. Regretfully, I dropped them onto the passenger seat instead, alongside my purse, and padded barefoot to the driver’s side door.
My hands shook a little as they
“‘fraid not.” I felt him get closer, and in response, my body broke out in a fever pitch, eyes springing open to watch as he approached like the very predator he was. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Ha!” I spat, backing up on my heels. “I’m not working with you.”
“You want to have the mayor at your fancy party again next year, you’ll work with me,” he challenged me.
I glared at him. “I have a staff of five; someone else can work with you.”
“You want to keep getting cozy with Beau, you’ll work with me.” He seemed angry, but my temper could go toe-to-toe with his, even on an off day.
“That’s none of your business.” He took another step towards me, but instead of retreating, I took one towards him.
“It was my business when you had your tongue in my mouth at the gala he paid for.”
“Fuck you.” This was getting old. He had no right to judge me. I wasn’t a slut. Women were allowed to date multiple men. That was the exact reason the term dating was coined. It’s the twenty-first century, after all.
“It was my business when you spent an hour pressed up against me before running off to him.”
I poked his chest with my finger. “Are you jealous? Seriously?” I mocked him. “How petty.”
“Tell me, Charleston.” He spoke low and dangerous.
I paused, my hand coming to rest at my hip, arching a distained eyebrow in his direction. If he wanted me to be a bitch, I could surely play the part.
“Is it exhausting to be so remarkably cynical?”
“Cynicism is for the weak and uneducated,” I countered his argument. “I’m a realist, Mr. Hart. Last I checked, that has yet to be deemed a felony.”
He smirked. “Or perhaps, more simply, a pessimist.”
“You’re quite rude,” I accused.
He trailed a finger down the open zipper of my leather jacket, his voice humming with a confidence that made me want to throw something at him. “Perhaps I think you can take it.”
“Or perhaps you’re just an asshole.”
My pulse was so loud in my head with his hands on me that I could barely think, let alone succumb to intelligent speech.
His dark chuckle radiated wickedly through my bones, the sound giving way to the traitorous heat engulfing my senses. “I look forward to working with you,” he drawled. “Perhaps I’ll get a chance to see just how much of me you can take, Miss Smith.”
Working vigorously to keep my jaw from hitting the proverbial deck, I drew my lips together in a tight purse. “Perhaps not,” I deadpanned, taking the file and tossing the contract onto his desk. “E-mail me if you have any questions regarding the scheduling or layout.”
“No kiss goodbye?”
I’d never had anyone in my life treat me the way he did. He pushed my buttons, just because he liked to see the reaction.
“Fuck you, Maverick Hart, and the horse you rode in on.”
Walking out of his office, I wanted to roll my eyes at the subconscious way my hips swung in a flirtatious, exaggerated manor.
Great, now I’m even annoying myself.
I waved a muted goodbye to Gladys, pushing through the double doors of Hart Securities. I growled obscenities under my breath. The steel in my spine was dependant on having the upper hand with the men in my life. It was a necessary exchange of power to maintain my functioning addiction.
It’s much too easy to lose control of the high, or in this case, the man, if I can’t control the dose.
Maverick Hart is absolutely the kind of man I could overdose on.
Reaching my Range Rover, I pressed a hand against the glass to steady my body as I kicked the five-inch pumps off my aching feet. Snatching them up off the ground, I momentarily wished I’d launched one of them at his pompous ass mid-conversation. Regretfully, I dropped them onto the passenger seat instead, alongside my purse, and padded barefoot to the driver’s side door.
My hands shook a little as they
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