Page 45 of Guarded King

Before she can, I take half a step closer. “Don’t argue with me, Miss Callahan.”

A long beat of silence stretches on, broken only by our breaths. Then she gives me a tilted smile. “Chloe,” she reminds me softly. “And thank you, Roman. I really appreciate your help.”

There’s a twisting sensation behind my ribs, and I slide my hands into my pants pockets to keep from touching her again. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m not that much of a hard-hearted bastard, am I?”

“No.” She slowly scans my face. “No. You’re not.”

We stay like that for too long, the air around us too thin. Without my permission, my eyes drift to her mouth, to the soft pink of her lips, but I quickly force myself to look away.

I can do this one small thing for her. It doesn’t have to be more than a kind gesture.

I can blur one line without blurring more.

Because that’s as far as it’ll ever go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ROMAN

Blue-green eyes search mine, wide and imploring. Soft pink lips part on an indrawn breath as I grasp her by the nape and pull her close, my mouth hovering over hers.

Her scent, honey and vanilla, is intoxicating. I’m drunk on her, my body hard and wanting. Ineedto know if she tastes as good as she smells.

She’s so close. The heat of her body seeps into me, warming me. I lower my head and?—

I’m wrenched from the dream, my subconscious pulling through, thank fuck. But even though the vision clears from my head, the memory of Chloe’s scent lingers. Not to mention the damn hard-on.

Fuck.

I swing my legs over the side of the mattress, plant my elbows on my thighs, and drop my head into my hands.

This has to stop.

With a grunt, I push myself up and stalk to my en suite bathroom. I need a cold fucking shower.

This isn’t the first time I’ve dreamed about Chloe. And I doubt it will be the last.

Under the rainwater showerhead, I scrub my hands over my face and let the water beat down on me. All the while, I grit my teeth, using all my strength to resist taking myself in hand and relieving the pressure in my dick. That’s a damn slippery slope.

I need to get fucking laid.

Once I’m dressed for work—for another day of fighting the temptation to dwell on visions of silky hair, flushed cheeks, and those smiles that I want to see more of—I pick up my phone and type out a message.

The reply is immediate. If only it made me feel even a modicum better. Later, I tell myself. Tonight, I’ll work off some steam. Afterward, the ability to focus on work while in the proximity of my too-attractive, completely off-limits assistant will return.

All day, I avoid summoning her to my office any more than absolutely necessary. The last thing I want when I meet up with Gemma tonight is thoughts of Chloe clouding my head. Gemma is a model, and someone I’ve had a casual arrangement with in the past. If anyone can get my mind off the woman who’s been haunting it, it’s her.

Two hours after I send Chloe home for the day, I’m sitting in a booth in a Manhattan bar with Gemma next to me. She’s as gorgeous as ever, with long blond hair and cool blue eyes. Her slinky black dress fits her like a glove, with straps so thin, I’ll be lucky if I don’t snap them while I peel the garment off her once I get her back to her place.

I take another sip of whiskey and inhale deeply as I set my glass on the table. “What have you been up to since we last…”

“Fucked?” Wearing a seductive smile, she coyly traces her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “I’ve had shows in Paris and Milan. I haven’t been back in New York long. I’m glad you messaged me.” She squeezes my thigh and leans closer. “I’ve missed this.”

I bring my whiskey to my mouth, this time for much more than a sip, and turn to look at her, waiting for the kick of lust in my gut.

Without taking her eyes off me, she takes a slow sip of wine then licks her plump lips. “Mmm, delicious.”

Instead of making my cock hard, all I can think about is Chloe biting into a slice of pizza in my office. The way she turned me on without even trying.

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