3
MICHAEL
The woman who had just entered my apartment was no ordinary girl. She was all woman-beautiful, curvy woman. I forgot I had given her instructions on how to reach my office from the Penthouse Suite Elevator. She entered my cluttered space with her head held high and a look of determination in her eye. Her dress was bright blue, her hair was up in a bun exposing a long neckline, and a pair of glasses were perched on her nose. Big brown eyes stared at me through them and the look she gave me made her look like a fucking Sex-Ed teacher. She was nibbling on her bottom lip as she stood there, a black laptop case in her hands and a look of utter disbelief in her eyes.
She’s a fan? Interesting.
“Mr. Knight, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She reached her hand out for me to shake and I stood there, frozen in place for a moment. Her voice was like soft silk that feathered across my skin and for the first time in the longest time, I felt the surge of something new. Seeing how uncomfortable she was, I leaned in and took her hand in mine. She felt warm, soft, yet she had a firm grip that I liked.
For a second, I wondered if her grip would be that firm around my cock.
Frowning, I shook the image away and gestured for her to take a seat. She smiled at me and a slight blush coated her delicate features. She wasn’t your typical beauty. Dark brown hair, around five foot- four, curvy, her features were on the side of exotic. She was definitely pretty but it was her eyes that captivated me. Large, almond-shaped coffee brown eyes. Fuck, those eyes could see right through to my fucking soul. I had written about eyes like these, but I never thought I’d actually get to see them this close.
“I’m a big fan of your work.”
There she went, using that silky voice of hers. All soft and innocent, I wondered how she would sound when she was screaming my name.
I cleared my throat and took a seat behind my desk. “Are you, now?”
“Yes! I’ve read every book, every series, the Wicked Games series is my favorite.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her selection. I suppose she fits what they say, that you should always watch yourself around the quiet ones. “That’s heavily erotic, Miss Montes. I didn’t think you would go for that type of read.”
“Oh, I love dark erotic romance. I like the raw emotions that come with it, the fear, the passion. The feelings are turbulent, and the storylines always spin you into the dark abyss. I also love the fact that your heroes are scarred.”
“You liked scarred heroes, Miss Montes?’
Her expression changed, she held a faraway look in her eyes, before lowering them to her hands, which were neatly folded on her lap. “In a way, yes.”
“Better than your knights in shining armor or your princes?”
“A scarred man holds more passion, he feels intensely because he’s felt the loss before. A scarred hero or heroine knows what it means to live, what it means to suffer. So when they love, they love with all that they have. And when they suffer…”
“Their suffering is unequivocal, powerful.”
“Yes!” Her bright brown eyes shined at me when she spoke and when she looked down at her lap, that soft blush heated those cheeks. Such pretty cheeks, I found I wanted to kiss them lightly.
“Well, I’m glad you like my work. But what is it exactly that you like about it?”
“Your descriptions are so real. I can feel every word, I can smell every scent, feel the emotions coursing through me. When I read one of your books my fingers tingle from the description of a kiss, from the way you portray power and wanting. You’re quite good at what you do.”
“Not quite as good as you may think. Especially since you’ve come to save me.”
Her eyes met mine and she swallowed hard. “Save you?”
“Yes. Help me.” I waved my hand in a quick gesture, changing my choice of words.
“Yes, I suppose I was chosen.”
“Like the Hunger Games.”
“I’m sorry,” she gave out a light laugh.
“The Hunger Games? The book? You volunteered.”
“More like I was voluntold.”
I nodded. “Interesting.”
“I see in your resume that you speak several languages.”
Her smile took me off guard as it brightened her face. “Yes! Besides English, I am fluent in Spanish and Italian.”
“And you are?”
“I’m sorry,” she asked wide-eyed.
“What is your nationality, Miss Montes?”
“Oh! My parents are Colombian.”
“Beautiful,” I murmured making her blush a bright pink.
She avoided my gaze, her eyes darting around the scattered room. “If you’d like to get started. I can set up anywhere, I’ll try to stay out of your way.” She stared at the stack of novels that sat on one corner of my desk, papers lined the rest of it in all sorts of piles of disarray. Bookshelves lined the walls and boxes filled the space, creating a path right out into the hallway that leads into the rest of my apartment.
“Yes, well. You can maybe set up in that corner over there.”
She looked behind her and frowned. There was a large black leather couch against one wall and only a small round table on the opposite end by the window. The table was cluttered with notebooks and hardbacks of my last release. She looked back at me, somewhat perplexed, but that look of determination continued to intrigue me.
“Sure. That works out fine, actually.”
“Yes, make yourself comfortable.”
She nodded and went off to the opposite corner of the office. I opened that same damn Word document and pretended to be hard at work when all I was doing was staring at the same goddamn blank screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shuffling around moving books and papers into neat stacks. Every time she bent over I couldn’t help but stare at her heart-shaped ass. She was definitely a distraction.
I nearly smiled when a lock of hair fell loose and she tried to blow it away from her face. Every now and then her hands would fall on her hips as she assessed the mess around her. I knew I was being a dick, but I wasn’t going to make things easy for her. I wanted her out, not getting cozy with me in my office.
The thought made my cock stir as I imagined her getting cozy with me in other dark corners.
Fuck.
I shifted in my seat, adjusting my cock for the umpteenth that morning. What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting like a fucking teenager. I was a grown man. Sure I had needs, but those fires were pretty quickly put out with a night out at the bar with some pretty little thing that wanted to show me just how much she liked my books. I’d usually take them to a hotel, fuck the shit out of them and leave. I wasn’t one to stick around and ask for their number or see if they want to “hang out” later. A drink and a fuck were as far as they got with me.
No attachments, no relationships.
I was done with relationships. Relationships equal drama and I was married to drama for ten fucking years. I wasn’t doing that shit again. I couldn’t do it again. I liked my peaceful life, my freedom. After what happened with my Ex I swore I’d never get married again. I wasn’t looking for anything long term. I just wanted a sweet pussy to slip into every once in a while.
But this particular pussy was different. A bit on the innocent side, definitely not up for grabs. No. This little kitty cat was the type you took home to your Mother. She was the sweet kind, and I had a feeling she was also the addicting kind. She was definitely the keep your dick in your pants kind. She had taken me off guard and I wasn’t accustomed to having a woman do that. I was expecting a skinny, mousy girl, instead, I got a fiery Latin temptress.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I hadn’t realized what she was up to. When I finally looked up, she had literally moved the small table to the edge of my desk and I watched in shock as she dragged the chair over and sat her pretty little ass down and popped open her laptop. I stared back at her, but she simply gave me a big smile.
“So where do you want to start, Mr. Knight?”
No. This was one I definitely needed to keep my hands off.