Charmed Professor Wharton into letting me take my exam early. Check.

Charmed the receptionist at Minton, Stites, and Wells Law Firm into letting me go where I needed. Check.

Charmed Mateo into telling me Poppy’s favorite coffee at Starbucks to earn brownie points. Check.

Now, I just have to charm her.

I sit across from her empty desk with my feet propped up on one end. Her coffee steams from where I set it on her coaster. We’re both hot as we wait for her. I knew she had court earlier, thanks to the receptionist and her word vomit around me. Nellie is her name. Nellie is attractive, and probably my type if I were on the prowl. But I’m not looking. Her bouncy tits and flirting did nothing for me or my cock.

When I have my sights set on something, nothing pulls me away from my goal. My goal is Poppy Beckett. I’m going to fucking ruin her.

As if on cue, she rushes into the room. Her face is down as she reads something on her phone. She tosses a messenger bag to the floor and her purse hits the floor beside it with a clatter. A stress ball, a tube of lipstick, and a hairbrush all scatter from the purse. Ignoring the mess, she sits down at her desk, her brows furrowed as she reads. I’m amused when she sips the coffee I brought before tapping away on her device. It isn’t until I clear my throat that she notices me in the room with her. She nearly drops her coffee, and it splashes all over her suit jacket as she struggles to catch it.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she hisses, her cheeks blossoming pink the moment our eyes meet.

I smirk and nod toward her soiled jacket. “You should pay better attention.”

She lets out a frustrated huff and sets down her coffee. I watch with satisfaction as she struggles to clean the coffee off her jacket with a tissue. Eventually, she gives up and pulls the jacket off. Her white button-up blouse is tight, revealing her perfect tits underneath. My cock thickens as I wonder just how long it’ll take until I get her naked.

By the end of the week.

Without a doubt.

“Hey,” she snaps. “Eyes up here, buddy.”

Ignoring her outburst, I pin her with a knowing stare. “How was your weekend?”

She swallows, and the fire that was just burning through her is squelched. “Fine. Yours?”

“Also fine. Went sailing with some friends.”

“You know how to sail?” she asks, her nose scrunching.

I lean forward and grin. “I know how to do everything.”

Her eyes fall to my lips, so I lick them for good measure. She lets out a ragged sigh before turning her attention to the screen. I watch as she types in her password: WILDHEARTS2.

“What’s on the agenda, boss lady?”

“Well, for one, my name is Poppy. Two, you get to watch and watch only, remember?” Her back straightens and she purses her lips. Poppy Beckett is no longer caught off guard like she was last week or moments ago. She’s found some solid ground and is ready to go toe-to-toe.

Game on, woman. Game fucking on.

“I’m watching,” I rumble. “Carry on.”

She’s stiff for most of the day, but once she realizes I’m taking notes and not harming her, she relaxes. After several hours, she has relinquished her calendar to me. I help her prioritize her clients and her political engagements. Everything is color coded—blues, greens, grays—to indicate business appointments. Her calendar is a blur of boring. The only color is every other Saturday which is coded pink. As I get acquainted with her calendar, our eyes meet more and more over the screen. Once or twice, I even steal a smile from her.

A real smile.

Not the fake bullshit she gives everyone else.

Her office phone rings, and she takes the call. While she’s distracted, I peruse through her cell phone, no longer interested in her schedule. I program my number in and text myself. I also take it upon myself to read all her texts from those closest to her. She and Mateo are about as boring as can be. An outsider would never consider them romantically involved based on their text conversations alone. In fact, an outsider would never know the real her based on her phone. Her wallpaper is a picture of a gavel. Lame. Her photo folder is completely empty. In her deleted folder, there are pictures of plants and the Tampa skyline. Even a selfie with her tongue sticking out. I text them all to me. She has emails and messages galore, but they’re all business related. I can’t find anything that would reflect her having a life outside of running for lieutenant governor.

“Of course,” she purrs into the phone. “Mateo and I will be there, Governor. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Fake. Fake. Fake.

While she pretends and schmoozes, I download a porn app. Then, I look through her cookies. She looks at travel destinations a lot, not that she has time to travel. Maldives. Cozumel. Eastern Caribbean Islands. I even find where she’s looked up some people from her high school through a classmates app. Of course, it’s all been deleted. It’s as though she tries to stamp out the zany Poppy who used to babysit my brothers and me. At twenty-nine, she’s no longer that beautiful, carefree college girl.

She’s this picture-perfect woman who so carefully cultivates her life for all to see.

Bored with her phone, I erase my existence from my snooping, and then set it back down on the table. Today, I wear a Carl F. Bucherer Manero watch with a chocolate leather band. I stare, fixated on the second hand as it tick, tick, ticks around.

“Nice watch. Grandad buy that for you too?”

I snap my stare her way and grin at her. “Not exactly.”

Her cool expression fades as she searches my eyes. “Are you always so mysterious?”

“I’m not the one hiding my desire to swim naked in the ocean or my obsession with pretty flowers,” I tell her smugly. “I like cars. I like watches. I like boats. End of story.”

She blushes and picks at her perfectly manicured nail, chipping at the nude polish. I remember when it used to be painted blue or pink or orange. Back when she didn’t have to put on a show for others. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Little liar.

“So you’re going to Governor Mike Paxton’s birthday tomorrow night?” I ask, changing the subject.

Momentarily stunned, she frowns at me. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I overheard you talking.” I gesture to her phone. “And it’s on your calendar.”

She rubs at her temple. “Right. Sorry. Headache.”

“Too much wine last night?”

She swallows and shakes her head. “I haven’t had wine since Thursday. Mateo and I both agreed I had too much.”

I bite back a laugh. Does she like it when Mateo daddies her? “Noted. Stress?”

“Maybe,” she admits. “Or lack of protein. And before you say anything gross, I—”

“Let’s go,” I interrupt as I stand. “You don’t have another appointment until three. We can grab some lunch. My treat.”

She stares up at me in confusion. “I don’t have time to go to lunch.”

“You do, and you will. Move your ass, Beckett.”

“Camden!”

I squat beside her purse and shove the spilled contents back inside while sneaking a peek. Makeup. Planners and notebooks. Perfume. Nothing of interest. She’s standing by the time I hand it to her. Our fingers brush, and the blush on her neck returns.

It’s almost too easy.

Instead of pushing, though, I pull. Flash her a flirty smile. Let my eyes linger on her tits. Toss her a wink. She lets out a frustrated sigh, but based on the smile she fights, she likes the attention. I spent an entire evening watching her and Mateo interact, and it’s almost laughable the way they are together. It makes me wonder if the old man can get her to orgasm. I’m surprised she doesn’t have sex scheduled in her calendar.

Come to think of it…

“What’s the pink code for every other Saturday?” I blurt out as we exit her office.

She stops and gapes at me. “W-What?”

I lift my hand and close her mouth, letting my fingers linger there. I notice Nellie watching our exchange and she quickly looks away. “Pink, Poppy. What’s the pink stand for?”

She steps away from me and quickly scans the room where people are working. Instead of answering, she storms down the hall to the elevators. I trot to keep up with her. Her foot taps as she waits for the doors to open. Prowling over to her, I stand closely behind her so I can inhale her sweet scent. Lemons. I bet she tastes tart too.

Leaning forward, I bring my mouth to her ear. “Is pink for pussy? Is that something I get to watch too?”

She gasps, and before she can get away, I chuckle against the shell of her ear. The doors open, and she rushes inside. I casually look over my shoulder and grin at an older woman watching. She smiles politely at me and looks back down at her work. I follow Poppy inside the elevators and admire how flustered she is. Her arms are crossed as she faces me, her nostrils flaring with anger.

“What?”

“You can’t act like that,” she snaps. “I have a fiancé. You don’t get to say those things to me.”

I lift a brow. “What things?”

“Those things.”

“Is pussy one of those things? I like those things if that’s the case.”

She swallows and looks down at her feet. “Someone could have seen or heard.”

“Seen or heard what? We were simply discussing your calendar.”

The doors ding open and several people enter. Taking the advantage, I sidle up next to her. She doesn’t move away, but won’t look me in the eye either.

“I bet Saturdays are for pussy. Does he lick you those days? Do you have such busy schedules you have to pencil in his cock?” I taunt, my voice low and only audible for her.

She lifts her chin and glowers at me. God, she really is beautiful with the fire flaming through her. “I’m not answering that for so many reasons.”

“Since I’m helping with your calendar,” I continue, ignoring her, “I could help you schedule in more days. And if he’s too busy on those days, I could assist.”

The elevator doors open again to let more people file in. She shifts away from me, and I step closer to her. My dick is hard, and I slightly press against her back to let her know, then place a discreet hand on her hip nearest the wall.

“Every day could be pussy day,” I breathe against her hair. “All you have to do is say yes.”

“No,” she hisses.

More people file in, and I’m forced to corner her altogether. Her breathing has quickened.

“Who says no to daily pussy play, hmmm?” I nip at her ear through her hair and slide my palm from her hip to her toned stomach. Pulling her closer to me, I let her feel how she affects me.

“I’m going to kill you the moment we get off this elevator,” she warns.

My dick jolts against her.

Her threats turn me on.