Page 1 of Reed

PROLOGUE

REED

My fingers tanglein my tie to yank it open, letting me breathe again. The meeting was a shitshow. Of course it was. George Fanzio is a grade-A prick with little to no intention of following through with his promises. Now he claims a shareholder isn’t playing ball with the sale of the site I’m desperate to purchase. When, in reality, we both know he’s enjoying this little runaround he has me in. Three fucking years! Three fucking years, only to reach one stumbling block after another.

I want that fucking land, and the more he withholds it, the greater the challenge becomes.

A heavy sigh leaves me as I grab the glass of whiskey, knock it back, then slam the glass down on the bar and nod toward the bartender for another.

“Rough day?” a silky-smooth, feminine voice delivers from beside me, and my cock pays notice to her sultry tone.

As much as I can’t deal with the exertion of sex right now, it would certainly divert my mind, and with a voice like that, I’m sure I could soon forget what a shitty day it’s been.

So instead of giving George fucking Fanzio another minute’s thought, I spin on my barstool to gift my attention to the voice in question.

My heart does a weird stutter when my eyes land on hers. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

A lump clogs in my throat as I blatantly scan over her entire being. Dark-green eyes sparkle with mirth, as if enjoying my obvious attention. She licks her lips; the little minx is begging for it, no doubt. Her dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, one I want to yank so hard her neck stretches, giving me access to sink my teeth into it and suck until copper spills onto my tongue, marking her as mine.

Wait… Where the fuck did that thought come from?

She licks her plump red lips again, and it’s almost as if she has a direct line to my cock because it thickens in my slacks. Sliding her ass onto the seat beside me, she tilts her head.

All I can concentrate on is the natural beauty in front of me.

My gaze travels down her white blouse and stops on her heavy rack. Fuck yes.

I wonder if they’re real?

Her nipples press through the thin fabric, and I want nothing more than to toy with them, kiss her peaked tips, and suck them into my mouth while feeling the weight of her tits in my hands.

My perusal continues, taking in her small form, but wide hips. Hips I could hold on to while I fuck into her, giving me the perfect view of those tits as she begs for me to suck on them and they bounce in my face. I’d mark them and bite into her until I’ve left her knowing who she belongs to.

Jesus, please let them be real.

Her olive skin shines like she’s some goddess, and I find myself asking what the hell I’ve been doing, wasting my life on women who resemble the living form of a stereotypical Barbie when there are beauties like her out there.

Why the hell haven’t I been searching for a woman like this? A natural woman with curves, and chaos in her eyes. So different from the pleading and desperate women I more often than not pay for.

“Are you finished?” The question is delivered with humor, and I jerk back. “Did I pass the exam?”

Her words stun me. She slides off the barstool and holds out her arms for me to appraise her while she does a slow spin on her black patent high heels, allowing me to view her perfect ass. One that’s tucked tightly into a pencil skirt. The slit up the back taunts me, and I literally groan with the thought of bending her over and fucking her senseless. Maybe then her snark would stop, despite me finding it a welcome reprieve from the usual obedient shit I deal with.

The lump gathered in my throat thickens, as does my cock, and it’s becoming uncomfortable. Eagerness has taken over, and I feel like I’m losing control. Something I hate.

It’s rare I feel so unraveled, and I find myself attracted to the foreign feeling as well as wanting to punish her for it.

“You pass,” I grunt out.

“Gee, thanks,” she playfully bites back, returns to her seat, and faces me.

I take note of the briefcase beside her. Businesswoman? Not my usual go-to, but I like the thought.

Her delicate hand comes toward me, grabbing the drink I didn’t realize the bartender had delivered, and I freeze when the beauty brings my glass to her lips and tips the whiskey back.

She releases a small gasp, then her tongue darts out and licks the remnants of the drink from her lips while I watch her in a lust-filled daze.

“So, what’s your line of work? I’m a lawyer,” she says, and my head rears back. “Family law, to be exact.”

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