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Chapter 5
Max
She’s late. Or maybe she isn't coming. It wouldn’t surprise me. She radiates a quiet stubbornness that makes me want to teach her a lesson until she’s coming around my cock.
I glance impatiently at my watch again. It’s fifteen minutes after four. We need to leave immediately or we won’t make it.
When Sloane finally arrives, I’m already waiting in the parking lot, jaw clenched, temper frayed. She exits her car, looking like a goddess in jeans, black knee-high boots, and a deep blue v-neck sweater. My cock hardens in automatic response to her beauty and curves, fanning the flames that already burn inside of me.
”You’re late.” I walk in her direction until I’m standing in her personal space. The tension between us builds, like waves of heat over hot pavement.
Sloane shrugs, blue eyes blinking at me with deceptive innocence. She doesn’t answer my question. Her quiet rebelliousness infuriates me. Like pouring gas on the flames of my desire. Doesn’t she realize if she keeps stoking the fire, she’s going to get burned?
It makes me want to punish her. Punish her for her meek exterior that hides a spine of steel. Punish her for her deceptively delicate beauty, a study in contrasts with black hair, creamy white skin, and sapphire blue eyes. Punish her for making me want her, obsess over her, lose my careful control with a careless shrug.
My gaze roams over her perfection, stopping on a piece of fuzz on her sweater that doesn’t belong. Still barely restrained, I pick it up. “Is this cat fur?”
She shrugs again, and the raging inferno of my temper only blazes hotter. Before I can do something I won’t regret, I grasp her elbow and lead her to my car.
Within a minute, we’re on the road. Sloane sits in the passenger seat, her sweet floral scent filling the car.
“Where are we going?” Even her silky voice is a temptation. A lure. Like a siren calling me to day and night.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
She huffs and falls back into her seat. That’s it. I need to calm down or I’m going to pull over and take her over my knee. Trying to take back some control, I explain to Sloane what her task is.
“We’re going to a community library. You have an appointment with the director. She thinks you’re a member of the press. She’ll give you a tour and give you an opportunity to ask some questions. I’ve already acquired the pertinent details, so I don’t need the facts. What I need from you is to determine whether they’re doing a suitable job. Do the patrons seem satisfied? Are the employees proactive? Is the library benefiting the community, or is it a drain of resources?
“This task shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.” I park down the block from the library, and gesture to the brick building. “That is the library. I’ll be waiting here until you return.”
As I should have anticipated, Sloane doesn’t immediately hop to it. Instead, she turns in her seat until she’s facing me. “What is this about?”
“You do remember that you work for me?” I ask, sarcasm evident in my tone. Suddenly, I feel tired. Sighing, I close my eyes and tilt my head back against the headrest. “Just do this for me. It’s important.”
“Okay.” There’s something in her voice, curiosity instead of her usual indifference. The tension drifts away as Sloane accepts her task. “What’s the director’s name?”
“Her name is Margaret Thornton.”
I don’t open my eyes as she exits the car. While I wait, my mind skips between my responsibilities, my job as CEO of the Hawthorne Group, and Sloane’s delicious curves.
Thirty minutes later, Sloane walks back to the car. I literally can’t take my eyes off her—the way her hips sway with unconscious seduction, the breeze blowing through her silky hair. She looks like a goddamn supermodel, except with perfectly thick thighs. My breath quickens and my pants tighten uncomfortably as I swell to readiness.
That’s it. I don’t care if she’s my friend’s sister. I don’t care if she only applied to this job for the connections or the money. I’ve never desired someone the way I desire Sloane, with a passion that borders on sinful. And I always, always get what I want.
Sloane opens the passenger door and slides into the leather seat. I let my expression ask the question, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s an adorable little library. Margaret was professional and incredibly passionate about making books available to the public. She talked about her plans for expanding it so it could become a place for the community to gather. I liked her.”
“What about the employees?”
“There were a few women working. I didn’t interrupt them, but they seemed engaged. One was helping a kid find a book, one was making a display, and I think the other was in the back.” Her nose scrunches adorably as she searches her memory.
“And the patrons? Was it busy?”
“Yes, I was surprised by how many people were there. A few moms with their children, some elderly people at the computers and browsing, even a few teens which I didn’t expect on a Saturday afternoon.”
I nod. She’s confirming what I thought. Time for the next step. I engage the engine and pull onto the street.
