Page 3 of Desirable

I feel like I'm actually being handed off as Jacoby leaves me with this woman. She tosses her braids over her shoulder before knocking on the office door behind her.

“Enter,” a booming voice calls.

The woman pushes the door open with a quick raise of her eyebrows. I barely enter the office before she pulls the door shut behind me.

“Miss Carlisle,” that whiskey-smooth voice greets, looking up from his computer screens. He has three on his desk in front of him and a TV with the stocks on it playing off to the side. Here, in his brightly-lit office, I can see his features more clearly. He has a smattering of freckles along his nose, which has a small bump on the bridge, like it’s been broken before. His hair is styled with a close crop around the sides and the back, but the top is longer. It’s gelled back, but I want to tangle my hands in it while straddling him. The mental image of just that has me rubbing my thighs together as I walk toward him.

“Parker,” I greet, refusing to bow and scrape to him. He is, after all, only a man.

His eyes narrow as he rises and comes to the front of his desk.

“I'm going to have to insist that you call me Mr. Worthington during this interview.”

“Interview? What exactly am I interviewing for?” I feel awkward standing here, but I don't know what else to do.

Parker seems to sense this and gestures for me to sit on the couch. I lower myself onto it, careful to cross my legs at the ankles.

“I find that I'm in a predicament, and I think you can help me.”

Parker sits beside me and places one hand on my bare knee. The skirt was a bold choice, but as his thumb rubs circles between my legs, I can't regret the decision.

“Predicament?” I try not to let him see the effect he's having on me and I'm proud of the calm in my voice.

“My sister is getting married in eight months. Since she got engaged, she's been trying to set me up with someone so I don't attend the wedding alone. She's set me up with her hair stylisttwice. I don't want her to worry about me having a date. I want her to focus on her wedding.”

“And you don't have some supermodel you can ask?”

In addition to looking up his company, I looked Parker up, and that was enlightening. Of all the men I could have picked in the bar to plant one on, I picked the bar owner, a man whose net worth exceeds that of the GDP of several small nations. He's worth billions on a bad day, and tens of billions on a good one. I either chose really well or really poorly. The way it feels like he’s circling me like I’m his prey makes me think it's the latter.

He’s been photographed at parties and galas with a different supermodel on his arm each time.Page Sixhas even speculated if the parade of women is to hide that he’s gay from a conservative family.

Parker's hand moves further up my thigh, and I think that speculation is wrong. He’s barely touching me, but he has me practically salivating with anticipation.

“Because women like that want something from me. Having their picture taken with me gets them exposure, even if it’s just one photo in a paper. Attending my sister's wedding doesn't get them that. I'm also not interested in taking someone who might potentially make the day about them.”

I reach out and grab Parker's wrist before he gets any further up my leg. His icy eyes stay locked on mine.

“I'm still waiting for you to get to the part that involves me. Why ask me to be your date?” I have to fight the urge not to squirm, because feeling his long, slender fingers on the inside of my leg already has me wondering what it would feel like to have them inside me.

He seems to contemplate my question until his lips slam against mine with the same force as when I met him. He grips the back of my neck, pulling me toward him, giving me no choice except to follow him.

Since this isn't anactualjob interview, I give in to the man, leaning against him. I release his wrist, and he takes mine to press it against his erection. I gasp, and rather than plundering my mouth, he breaks the kiss. He’s searching my face, probably wondering if I’m going to hit him. As it is, this feels like a grand-slam harassment case.

“We have a physical chemistry that I think I could use to convince my sister that you're my girlfriend and there is no need to set me up with anyone.”

I don’t know who this version of me is, but I don't remove my hand from his crotch. Instead, I stroke the length of him. This was a mistake because now I know how long and hard he is. I'm going to have to go home after this meeting and let my imagination run wild with what this man could do to me.

“That sounds like a fancy way of asking me to be your date to your sister's wedding.”

His laughter has me soaking, and as fun as it sounds to toy with a man this powerful, I'm out of my league. Parker grabs my hand and presses it harder on his dick, guiding my movements. I don’t stop stroking him. There is a desperate part of me that wants to watch him come apart.

“It wouldn't be just for that. My sister can spot a fake a mile away.” He sounds almost pained under my ministrations. “No, I want you to be my girlfriend for the next eight months. We can craft a clever breakup after my sister's wedding.”

“Oh, you're asking me to go steady? How sweet.” The sarcasm is bitter in my mouth. “Why would I say yes?”

“For starters, I'll pay you half a million per event, and there will be events monthly to build up your brand and ensure you're seen with me. I know my sister has an alert set for every single time my name is mentioned. I have a gala to attend this month that you'll have to attend, as well as international trips that a girlfriend would usually be seen at.”

I stop palming him through his pants. Parker’s eyebrows dip down in disappointment.

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