Hostile Takeover (The Game #8) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Kink, M-M Romance, Taboo Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
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“How’s work, by the way?” Jack asked. “How’s the insurance business?”

I snorted softly under my breath and poured body wash into my hand. “You’d probably know the latter better than me. It’s always hell.”

I liked to think I was making a difference, though. And in my position, I didn’t have to deal with any insurance companies myself. I just had to sign papers and oversee certain projects. Right now, for example, we had a new team at the office—we’d recruited them straight from Silicon Valley—and they would hopefully upgrade our services, making them more user-friendly, which was the entire purpose of my business idea. To develop payment and communication systems between a customer and a business.

Insurance companies were our primary customers, and our goal was to make it as simple and straightforward for the user as possible. Which, in that field, meant going to war with the actual buyers of said systems, because no insurance company in the United States wanted it to be easy to file a claim with them.

“I read about your headhunting in California,” Jack said.

I smirked and scrubbed suds all over my face and hair.

That’d been his best idea during his brief internship with my company all those years ago.

“Send someone to Silicon Valley, Uncle Franklin. Between the start-ups in LA, San Francisco, and Silicon Valley, there’s a full-time gig in recruiting tomorrow’s talent.”

He’d been correct. We had three full-time scouts out there these days.

When we were finished showering, I aimed for my towel and thought I deserved a medal. Not once had I gawked at his body. The same couldn’t be said for the older gentleman who walked in as we headed for the sauna. He stared blatantly at Jack, who shot the fellow a crooked grin.

“A bit old for you, don’t you think?” I muttered under my breath.

“Men of all ages are welcome to stare at me, Uncle Franklin.” He left his shower products next to mine on a shelf but brought something else with him to the sauna. A smaller bottle.

He was brazen like his mother.

We were met by a wall of blistering heat as soon as we entered the sauna, and Jack groaned in sheer pleasure.

“This is what I’m talking about. And to hell with modesty if it’s just the two of us.”

Uh. No. We should certainly not ignore modesty.

I swallowed uncomfortably while he removed the towel around his hips and fanned it out across the end of the middle bench. There was his perfect little ass again. And his cock. Wonderful. Fucking hell. This had been my worst idea yet. Ass, cock, balls, abs, absolute perfection.

To my surprise, he had a rather large tattoo that covered his hip and spread down his thigh. Before I averted my gaze, I registered darkly shadowed chains, tentacles, vines, menacing-looking paw prints, the horns of a…oh. Baphomet.

The illustrations swam in my head, along with the memory of his body, and I sat down on the top bench, definitely covered by the towel.

“God, this feels good.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned back against the wall. Feet and legs up on the bench.

His entire body glistened with droplets from the shower, and I feared it was going to get worse, because the little bottle he’d brought with him was oil. Almond oil.

He looked so relaxed. Eyes closed, dark lashes so long they nearly touched his skin, not a single hair on his chest, no marks except for the tattoo.

I couldn’t for the life of me look away.

I wasn’t overly hairy myself, but next to him, I almost felt like an unkempt ape.

Jack shared something else with Tate. They both clearly put a lot of effort into their physical appearance, with grooming and various products, yet they managed to pull off a rugged version of polished. How that was even possible was beyond me.

Safe to say, my biggest worry had become reality. I couldn’t view Jackson as just family. He was undeniably sexy and more beautiful than words could describe.

Stop staring, you moron.

Right.

I cleared my throat and wrenched my gaze away from him.

I closed my eyes instead, and I tried to let the heat consume me. Slowly but surely, it worked its way into me, and my breathing slowed. Even when I heard him opening the bottle, I stayed quiet, kept my eyes closed, and minded my business.

“Have you noticed any cruising around here?”

Before I could decide how to react, I was already staring at him with disbelief bolting through me. “What?” And with my eyes open and glued firmly to Jack, it was impossible not to see.

I swallowed dryly as he rubbed the oil into his chest in too-sensual movements. Yet, his expression carried nothing but drowsy curiosity. A lazy smirk tugged at his mouth, and he nodded toward the exit.

“Just wondering since the hot grandpa out there has a staring problem,” he said.


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