Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
The air in the car thickens, tension replacing the easy rhythm of conversation.
I study him, waiting, expecting him to say more. Is this why he’s been crawling into bed with me? Why, for most of our relationship, we were never apart at night?
The realization coils in my chest, questions pressing against my tongue. I open my mouth to ask, but then I see it—the moment Noah shuts down. His jaw tenses, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. His gaze flicks away, his body shifting slightly like he’s trying to retreat without actually moving.
Whatever he just let slip, he regrets it. He’s exposed something he never meant to, and now, he’s pulling the walls back up.
“Noah—”
“Well, since no sex, I guess we should go in.” He shoots me a goofy smile and gets out, rounding the car as I climb out. “You know, a lot of friends still do things.”
“Not this friendship.”
“Nothing? Not even a little…” He makes a circle with his hand and mimes giving a blow job.
Fire burns my face, the tips of my ears getting hot. Me on the shower floor... water dripping over my face and body as his dad slams his cock into the back of my throat…
“Wait—you’re blushing. Is there a chance?”
“I’m not blushing.” Shit.
“Never say never.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and walks us to the restaurant. “Let’s go. All this talk about being platonic and friends is making me hungry.”
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter eleven
Jackson
“Get me his file,” I snap into the phone. “I want to know how this kid passed the screening exams and ended up on my payroll.”
I hang up with Wayne and lean back in my chair, my jaw tight as I scan the evidence spread out before me. Every detail points to one conclusion.
Jethro Brock. At least, that’s the name on his application. Hired six months ago as a material handler—bottom of the totem pole. His keycard shouldn’t have given him access to the operations room. He shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the system controls. Yet, he bypassed security, entered the restricted area, and tampered with our operating system.
The result? Machines thrown out of sync. Production lines disrupted. An entire multi-million-dollar order jeopardized.
All by a kid with no prior experience. No relevant background. No logical way to explain how he had the skills—or the clearance—to pull off something this precise.
Unless he wasn’t just some kid. Unless he was planted.
Fake name. Fake credentials. A decoy sent to sabotage a billion-dollar deal with our biggest client.
The pen in my hand snaps in two, ink bleeding across my fingers. My teeth grind together. Son of a bitch.
This wasn’t some clerical oversight. It was calculated—intentional. Someone's playing games, and they’re going to regret it.
A notification chimes, reminding me of my dinner reservation. The timing couldn’t be worse—walking away from work now feels like a mistake—but I insisted on this dinner. If I cancel, I’ll only make things worse with Noah.
I arrive at the restaurant on time. As expected, he’s not here.
“Good evening, Mr. Blake. Your usual table?” I nod to the waitress, and she leads me to my preferred secluded table near the back of the restaurant. Within minutes, she’s returning with a bourbon.
“Your drink, Mr. Blake. Is there anything else I can get for you right now, or would you like to wait for your guests to arrive?”
I glance up. The moment my eyes land on Georgia, my focus sharpens.
“Give me a minute. Thanks,” I say dismissively, barely registering whoever was speaking to me.
She scans the restaurant, her gaze drifting—until it lands on me. Our eyes lock. There’s a beat of hesitation. Then, with a quick nod to Noah, she starts walking toward me, cautious but steady. My jaw tightens as I take her in. I’ve kept my distance, done my best to ignore the temptation, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look.
And right now? I’m feasting.
“Hey,” she says, stopping beside the table. “Noah had to use the restroom—”
“Sit down, Peach.”
She hesitates for only a beat before sliding into the chair across from me. My eyes immediately drop to the dip of her low-cut blouse and the subtle rise and fall of her breath. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I haven’t seen you in the office,” she says, her voice soft, carrying a hint of hesitation, as if she’s unsure whether she should even ask.
“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.” Stop messing with her, asshole.
She fidgets with her hands, picking up a roll of silverware and arranging everything back the way it was. Sensing my gaze, she drops her hands in her lap. “Oh… I thought you were avoiding me or something.”
Damn right, I am. As much as I would love to have her in my sight all day, keeping my hands off her would be impossible. I can’t be in her presence without my mind sinking into dark places. Her lips... perky tits... the way her tight cunt would feel wrapped around my cock.