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He frowned, dark eyes pinning me on the spot. I was stupid. How the hell didn’t I recognize him that night? He’s so grumpy, with soft dirty-blonde hair and the most intense gray eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Why not?”
I pointed at the air between us. “We had sex. Multiple times. And… you are Emma’s brother.”
“Half-brother.”
“You’re…” I shook my head and turned around. “I’m leaving.”
“Why does it matter that we had sex?” he asked, following me. My pace quickened to leave his office, but I was wearing heels, dammit. I just needed to get away from him and his steely eyes. “Lots of people use sex to get the position I’m offering you on a silver platter.”
I let out a humorless chuckle and turned around to face him. “If you just wanted a blowie, please go ahead and ask me right now so you feel better about handing me the check,” I said with a saccharine smile.
“Sweetheart, if I wanted to, you’d beg for my cock,” he purred, my hand tightening on the glass I was holding. Don’t waste the decaf on him, Summer. “And you know what I meant. I don’t want to kiss you, let alone have sex with you, so just accept the damn offer!”
“I don’t know what you meant, Mr. Grant,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “All I heard is how you abuse your power of authority and sexually harass women to give you a blowjob—”
“Don’t say another word.”
I steeled myself. “I have met enough jerks like you in just two years, and I will not stand here and let you or any other white man berate me or anyone else. Go shove that offer up your ass, asshole.”
I thought twice about dumping the coffee on him, but I didn’t have enough money to dry clean his expensive suit that was worth my monthly rent. Instead, I settled for turning around and walking away with an extra sway in my hips.
But before I could open the door, his hand stopped it, and I took a sharp intake of breath when I felt his body behind me.
Fuck. Me.
I should have dumped the coffee on him.
16
HER BOYFRIEND
SUMMER
I stiffened, clenching my hands in a fist.
“You are so fucking infuriating,” he whispered, his harsh, warm breath fanning over my neck, making my heart stutter.
“Feeling’s mutual,” I said, turning around and glaring at him. “Let me leave.”
His stormy dark eyes met mine, and I hated the way he looked at me, making butterflies flutter in my stomach. Maybe I was delusional, and they were actually moths warning me to get away from him.
“I apologize for accentuating that white men in power demanding sex or as you said and I quote, ‘blowie’ for a position, but… I’m not one of them.” His jaw clenched, and I eyed his high cheekbones and sharp jaw peppered with the right amount of stubble. He took a step back and I could finally breathe something that was not his musky cologne. “I am sorry if it made you uncomfortable. We have strict HR policies, and I want you to work here.”
It was odd.
He was odd! How can he make me so angry and then stare at me with such sincerity a moment later, apologizing for his words and actions?! All while looking like an Abercrombie model.
Still… I had had enough instances of men in power, especially in Hollywood, that I felt wary. I knew he never did that, didn’t even think about it, but working with him for a long period felt intimate.
I swallowed and looked at his Adam’s apple. “I can’t work with you, Damon.”
“Why not?” he demanded, his voice stern.
I had forgotten just how stubborn he was.
“I-I have my own reasons,” I said, keeping my chin high. One of the main reasons being you’re one of the best sexual partners I’ve ever had, and I’m still not over my teenage crush for you, and it might disrupt our professional relationship.
