Page 49 of Some Like It Hott

“I’ll text you the deets for tomorrow,” I say.

He rolls his eyes—I think at the word “deets”—then raises a finger. “Two rules.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Rules? Okay.”

“One. I’m paying.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he glares, and I stop.

“Fair,” I say. “Since I’m pretty sure your net worth is many powers of ten higher than mine, and this is your fun.”

“And two…” He’s walking backward toward the door as he speaks. He reaches it, puts a hand on the frame, and rakes his gaze over me from head to toe. Every cell in my body shifts subtly to point itself in his direction.

“No more kissing.”

He vanishes out the door.

25

Natalie

“Where are we going?” Preston demands as we step out of the elevator together the next day and head for the exit.

All I told him was that he should meet me in the hallway outside our rooms and that he should wear “comfy clothes.” When he frowned at that, I said,Oh, Jesus, Preston. Just…not a linen suit. You could wear what you wore to the party.

And so he is. Running shoes, his cutoff sweats, and a soft-looking gray T-shirt that hugs every glorious inch of his shoulders, biceps, and pecs in a way that makes me wish I’d steeled myself harder against the first glimpse of him.

“I can’t tell you where we’re going until we get to the car,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re afraid that if you tell me I won’t go.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I keep my word,” he says, scowling. “I said I’d go.” He sighs. “I know I need to do this. My lack of fun is even a liability at work right now. My boss told me ‘you get it done, but you don’t make friends doing it.’ She said I should go out for drinks or sit around the office eating takeout.”

“This situation is way worse than I thought if you think eating takeout at the office constitutes having fun. This definitely requires an intervention.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “And you’re the woman for the job.”

“I’m absolutely the woman for the job.”

“Plus,” he says, “the company I’m trying to acquire for my client has in its mission statement the wordsdedicated to the pursuit of fun.”

“And they picked you to work on that acquisition,” I tease. “As one would.”

“It just turned out that way,” he admits.

We’ve reached my car, which he eyes suspiciously. “We should take mine.”

Okay, I can’t blame him for thinking that. My car is an eighteen-year-old Honda Fit inaptly named Blaze. His rental is probably a Lamborghini or something.

But we’re taking my car on this outing because…

Well, because despite what he says, when he finds out where we’re going, he might be tempted to flee, and I want him completely under my control.

Sort of the way he’d be if I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth, his hip bones under my thumbs.

I didnotjust think that.

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