He swept my sweat-drenched hair off my neck, pressing his lips against my ear. His hot breath made me shiver, and every vibration of his voice left me breathless. "You're not the first to try to seduce me," he whispered, his warm breath grazing my skin. "But you're my favorite." His eyes locked with mine, piercing and intense, before he slowly pulled me away. I watched him take my red lace thong, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. A wave of desire overwhelmed me, mixed with a strange sense of defeat. I hadn't expected this, nor the palpable tension that had settled between us. And now, I'm an intern for Cole, the writer of the steamiest novels I've ever read. All of this is more real, more intense, and most of all, more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.
Chapter 1 01
11:00 p.m.
"Jesus, Mercy! Just march over there, throw your panties in his lap, and fuck his writer's block away!" Yvette urged, pointing toward the man at the bar with such enthusiasm that I almost spilled my drink.
I choked on my drink, the burning liquid flying up my nose, singeing everything in its path. "Fucking hell, Yvette. I'm pretty sure that's not how it works!! You can't just hump someone's writer's block away." I cried out, knowing there was no way for it to work. It was about the inspiration, not the perspiration between two people.
"You never know until you try," Amanda piped in from across the booth, her eyes never leaving her brightly lit phone screen. The sound of her nails tapping against the glass screen added a rhythmic beat to the conversation.
Yvette licked her lips, her brown eyes scanning the man at the bar like a hawk eyeing its prey. She looked him up and down, not even trying to be subtle. He was slumped over, nursing what I assumed was his fifth drink of the night, the weight of his untamed energy reflected in his posture. The kind of man who looked like he could break hearts and just as easily pick up the pieces again, without so much as a second thought. The very type of man every sexual being in a 50-foot radius wanted, but couldn't have. "I would..." She breathed, her voice thick with lust.
"Too bad you're almost married!" Amanda interrupted, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh, holding her diamond ring in the air like a trophy, pouting like a child who had been denied a candy bar.
Yvette rolled her eyes dramatically, but the gleam in her eyes never faltered. "Aaron better appreciate how much I love him right now," she muttered, lowering her hand with a resigned sigh.
I snorted, rolling my eyes as I drained the last of my drink. "You're the lucky one. I still haven't found a dick in six months," I grumbled. The coil of heat in my abdomen was starting to make me twitch, my body yearning for the relief I couldn't quite reach.
I took another sip from my straw, trying not to choke this time, the coldness of the ice only making my need feel more intense. There was nothing worse than an unsatisfied desire, especially when you were surrounded by people who had no problem getting what they wanted.
"Yeah-ya know-fuck Neil for what he did to you, and fuck him for... well, who he is! But you've got to move on, explore bigger and better specimens." Yvette grinned, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously as she eyed the man at the bar again. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, clearly imagining all the ways she could have her fun with him. "Look at him," she purred, "He's everything. Those broad shoulders, that jawline, the way he holds himself... Mmm."
"Stop it," I snapped, glancing at the man in question. "I mean-he's... he's C.J. Cole. He's untouchable, Yvette." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear as I turned my attention back to my friends.
"I would give anything to know what it's like to be on the receiving end of those eyes," Yvette said with a dreamy look in her eyes, her tone dropping an octave lower.
I gulped down another sip of my drink, the burn of alcohol masking the heat creeping up my neck. "Wouldn't it be a conflict of interest?" I muttered, trying to deflect the conversation to a safer topic. "I mean, I work for his publisher. I edit his books..." I trailed off, hoping they would see the logic in my excuses and drop the subject.
Amanda raised an eyebrow, finally lowering her phone and looking at me like I had lost my mind. "Girl, you don't need to get so technical. It's not like you're going to write his next bestseller-wait, are you?" She grinned. "Cause that could be fun. Imagine how many words you could help him write with those legs of yours."
I shot her a glare, not amused.
Yvette sighed dramatically, putting her hand on her cheek like a lovesick teenager. "It's C.J. fucking Cole. The man writes sex like a god. His books have sold millions. I mean-imagine what he's like in bed?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, but it still carried a teasing edge. "His tongue..."
"Yvette!!!" I snapped, cutting her off before she could finish whatever filth she was about to say. I didn't need those images in my head right now. I had enough trouble with my own fantasies, thank you very much.
"You keep it in your pants," I muttered, half-joking but mostly serious.
"Speak for yourself," Yvette shot back. "I'm just saying... if I had a chance with him..." She trailed off, biting her lip as if imagining all the ways she could make him hers. I almost wished I could slap some sense into her, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference.
"I'm serious," I protested, though my voice came out quieter than I intended. "I can't! Plus-he never talks. I swear I've brought him coffee a few times at the office, and the dude never speaks. He just stares at me with those eyes..." My voice trailed off, and I had to look down, suddenly feeling very small under the weight of my own words.
Amanda snorted in amusement, her phone already back in her hand. "Those 'see-through-your-soul' eyes?" she said, looking at me like I had just revealed the universe's biggest secret. "Girl, you're not fooling anyone. You want him. I can see it all over your face."
I winced, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "No, I don't," I muttered, even though my body betrayed me every time C.J. Cole was in the room. His presence was electric, and despite myself, I couldn't help but feel the pull whenever he was near.
"Come on, Mercy," Yvette said, leaning forward across the table with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "You're telling me you haven't thought about what it would be like to throw him on that bar, rip his shirt off, and-"
"Enough!" I snapped, my face burning now. I glanced over at the bar again, my heart racing. C.J. Cole was still there, his broad shoulders hunched over his drink, his eyes scanning the room in that way that made everyone else in the vicinity feel like they were invisible.
I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to be the one he noticed. But one thing was for sure: I didn't want to be another name on his list of fleeting, disposable women.
But still... the idea of him? The way he made everyone else seem insignificant? The allure was undeniable.
Yvette seemed to sense my hesitation, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You could be the one to finally make him talk, Mercy."
My fingers gripped the edge of my glass, the weight of her words hanging in the air between us. "I'm not that girl," I muttered, but deep down, something told me that maybe, just maybe, I was.
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