Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Not below.
Don’t look dow–fuck.
I want to pull her onto my lap and fondle those sweet breasts until I find out what she likes.
I’m guessing rough. She likes it rough.
And that thought did nothing for the boner in my tuxedo pants.
“Like what you see?”
Since I’m incapable of conversing about her breasts–I mean the scandalous cut of her dress–I give a brief nod. “It’ll do.”
“My goodness,” she pretends to fan herself. “Such flattery.”
“I don’t pay you six figures to flatter you.” I risk looking toward her ankles. It should be safe enough.
Except it’s not.
She’s wearing strappy high heel sandals that wrap around the ankle and across the toes and her toenails are painted in the same, glorious, brick red.
I don’t even like brick red, but my wolf fucking loves that she picked my name as the color.
I don’t think it was an accident. Very little with Madison seems uncalculated.
“I told you specifically not to wear that sort of dress. Or shoe. Are you testing me?”
“Ah…” I realize she’s nervous. I failed to notice when she got in because I was holding my breath, but there’s a whiff of anxiety to her scent that agitates my wolf. Me being a dick by not getting out of the limo and berating her the moment she got in probably didn’t help. “Yes.”
I have to admire her honesty. And reward it. “You look beautiful.”
A blush stains her cheeks and throat. I fight from looking lower to see just how far down it travels. “You didn’t have to buy me a dress.”
“Yes, I did.”
Her scent takes a sour edge. She stiffens. Her hands tighten on the tiny crystal-studded silk purse in her lap. “I’ll reimburse the company. You can take a percentage out of my paychecks, until it’s paid off.”
“No.” I insulted her. She’s touchy about something. Money? Or me blurring the lines between us? “It was my decision to have you accompany me. It’s only right that I cover the expenses.”
“It won’t look right. To Accounting.”
“Accounting won’t give a damn.” They’ll never see it because I paid for everything out of my own pocket. Something tells me she’ll like that even less. “It was a means to an end.”
She studies me, searching for signs that I’m lying. Which I am.
Finally satisfied, she relaxes in her seat. “So whose ticket did I steal?”
“What?”
“The plus one. Who canceled on you?” A mischievous smile hovers over her lips. “Who was going to be your date?”
“There was no plus one. My sister gives me an extra ticket just to fuck with me. She knows I never bring anyone.”
“Except me.”
“Ruby insisted I bring someone, and you’re the only one I can stand.”
She blinks. That was too close to being sweet, so I add, “You’re my employee. I can order you to shut up.”
“Charming.” Now she sounds close to laughing. “No wonder you don't have a date.”
“Did you study the guest list?”
She straightens, snapping into employee mode. “Yes, sir. I have it all up here.” She taps her temple.
“Of course you do.” There’s actual warmth in my voice, and she tips her face up to mine, going still when we lock gazes. I have to resist reaching out to push one of the curls from her cheek.
She’s right to question her role. I’m blurring all the lines tonight. I can bluster and insist she’s only my assistant, but she’s in the backseat of my limo, looking like a movie star ready for the red carpet.
My wolf thrashes beneath the surface. He wants her.
I don’t know why he’d be interested in a human, but he is.
I mean, I get it. Madison is unusual. Enticing.
But she’s a human. Wolves don’t mate humans. At least not alpha wolves.
Still, my wolf pushes me forward, and I find myself leaning in, invading her personal space. Fates, I want to kiss those red lips. Not like a gentleman. Not like the guy in a tux sitting in a limo with a beautiful female. No, I want to devour her mouth like the wild beast I am.
She goes still, holding her breath. Waiting for it.
Her lips part. I want to bite them and suck them and–
Wrong. It would be so wrong.
I force myself back. It takes more effort than I expected, and a growl of dissatisfaction from my wolf ratchets up my throat.
I cover it with my usual gruff admonishments. “After tonight, no more windows. I mean it.”
She’s nonplussed.
Her lips twitch, and she reaches for the straps on her dress, shaking her shoulders as she adjusts slightly. I try not to imagine how her breasts are shifting beneath the fabric, and then it’s too late. My gaze lowers to the cut-out–why did I mention it?–and I’m stuck staring. I literally cannot look away.
Her red-painted fingertips skim the edges of the window, and a growl comes from my lips before I manage to close them and force myself to look away. Fortunately, Tony pulls up in front of the hotel where the ball is being held, and I throw my door open and climb out. I’m halfway to opening hers–force of habit, I tell myself–when she opens it herself. Tony is already there holding his hand out to help her out, and I have to bite back another growl.