New York Billionaires Series

Hot as fucking hell.

But the idea of Cecilia, with her wide smiles and teasing jokes, standing in the bedroom across from mine, and making the decision not to put on underwear so she could seduce me?

It makes me hard just to think about.

I reach beneath my desk and rearrange the ache. Three days since the kitchen is three days too long, as far as that part of my anatomy is concerned. It has a head of its own in more ways than one.

She’d tasted sweet in the car. If I close my eyes, I can still hear her muffled whimpers. I can see the bare treasure between her legs and taste it on my tongue.

The memories are doing nothing for my concentration or the pounding headache at my temples. Nothing to dull the ache in my pants, either, but I have no time to solve that issue. Not now. Not when Myers and I have our meeting in fifteen minutes.

She arrives on the dot, punctual as always. We’re at home, but with my office so similar to that of Exciteur, it’s hard not to draw the parallels. The only difference is her slippers instead of heels.

“Hi,” she says. Her hair is in a high ponytail and a flush creeps up her cheeks.

“Hello,” I say. We haven’t spoken much since we slept together, although slept is not the right word for the explosive kitchen counter fuck. She has her routine and I have mine.

I’m going to have to get more sex into it somehow.

“Are you okay? You look tired.”Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“I’m fine,” I say.

She sits down on the chair opposite my desk, clutching a binder to her chest. “All right, then. I have a lot to share with you today.”

“Go right ahead.”

Cecilia launches into a refined elevator pitch, and I listen, humming occasionally. Her idea sounds like many of the hundreds of start-ups I’ve heard about over the years. Unease grows in my stomach when I realize she also sounds like many of the start-ups that fail within their first year.

She hands me an overview of costs and an expansion plan. “This is where I’m heading,” she says. “The overhead is considerable, but with a quick enough expansion, I should hit my numbers.”

I tap my pen against the paper. It’s neat and orderly, like all the reports she prepared for me. In truth, the plan she’s drawn up is impressive. She’s thinking far ahead. She has her company’s story brand nailed down. But.

“Your figures are too high.”

She leans across the desk, and the neckline of the T-shirt she’s wearing swings low. I can see the tops of smooth breasts.

Throbbing, aching pain.

“Have I miscalculated?”

“No, I’m sure you’ve done it correctly. But the figures are too high from a risk perspective.”

Her wide, soft lips turn down at the corners. They’d been wrapped around my dick just three days ago. The image of her sinking to her knees, pressing me against the front door… taking command. Looking up at me. Christ, St. Clair.

“From a risk perspective,” she repeats, voice turning hard. “I want to take risk. I’ve seen you, and your business partners, take risks all the time. It’s always been rewarded.”

I brush the back of my hand over my mouth to hide a smile. “Not always. I’ve made tons of deals that fell through.”

Her eyes flicker up to mine. “You have?”

“Of course. I’m thirty-four, Myers. What do you think I did until I was twenty-five?”

“You made mistakes?” she asks. Her voice is so full of skepticism I want to laugh.

“Yes. You have to do things wrong to learn how to do them right. The sooner you make the mistake, the sooner you’ll learn.”

I tap the paper in front of us. “With this overhead, so soon into starting the business, you have no room for error. No room for unexpected losses. One rough wind, and you fall. And there will be rough winds. There always are.”

She blows out a breath. “If I cut this, I won’t grow as fast.”

“If you don’t, you might not grow at all.”

Cecilia snatches up the papers and sits back in her chair. She reads them over with a frown, looking like an angry kitten. But she’d asked for my advice and I gave it.

I run a hand through my hair. Not once had I cared if I offended the people I critiqued before. I’d given them hard truths and cold facts, letting the chips fall where they might. I’d certainly not been as measured as I am with her.

Fucking her has definitely messed with my head.

“Damn it,” she says. “You’re right. You can say I told you so.”

“There’d be little point in doing that.”

She sighs, putting her papers down. “I’ll start over with my calculations, then.”

“Once you’ve changed them, send your plan to me and I’ll take a look.”

Her eyes look like they had when I glanced up at her in the car, my head between her legs. Shock at what I’m doing. “You mean for next month’s meeting?”

“No, send them to me as soon as you’re done.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said.” I nod down to the papers, breaking eye contact. My head is killing me, and now my throat’s started, too. It scratches when I speak. “But I have an interest in this company too. Send it to me.”

“All right, I will. Thank you.” She scoops up the papers and heads to the door, a look of deep concentration on her fair features.

A year with her walking in and out of my office, just like that, and I’d never truly noticed her before.

It strikes me as a gross oversight on my part.

Thirty minutes later Cecilia knocks on my half-open door again. She’s holding a mug and wearing an apologetic smile. “Your voice sounded scratchy earlier. Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

“I can’t,” I say. It’s the truth. Too much work, and too many people depend on it being done. The steady stream of emails never ends. Brad is good, but he isn’t Cecilia, and it shows.

Not to mention the conference in Boston next week with Exciteur. It will carve three days out of my normal work schedule.

“Still,” she says, and sets the giant cup of tea down on my desk. A scent of honey wafts up from the hot water. “For your throat. And… thanks for agreeing to look at my numbers again this week.”