Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Rome . . .” I breathe out, reaching out and fishing a finger around one of his belt loops.
He sucks in a sharp breath of air as his hips move closer. His forehead lowers, his breath just as erratic as mine.
“I . . .” He pauses and licks his lips. “I need help, Peyton.”
Everything around me stills. I need help, Peyton. All pretenses are gone. It’s just the vulnerable, worried CEO needing a strong advocate and business partner to steady him again. Me. God . . . he’s so . . . real. Raw. Incredible. The lust I have for this man is put on hold as his words sink in.
He needs me.
For the first time since I’ve known him, he’s asking for help and not in a boss-type manner, but with a hint of desperation.
This is the Rome no one else has seen, the Rome I knew was trapped deep down inside of him, only present in his most vulnerable of moments.
And I’m privy to see this beautiful man at his finest, raw, defenseless, and completely exposed.
“How can I help?”
Pushing off the wall a few inches, one of his hands comes to my cheek, and then he searches my eyes. “Have dinner with me, tonight.”
“Having dinner with you is going to help?”
“Bring work.” He lets out a deep sigh. “It’s going to be a long night.”
I nod. “Text me where. I’ll be there and for now, I’ll start moving up media dates.”
His thumb strokes my cheek, his brow softening, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Okay.”
With one final stroke, he pushes off the wall and gives me some space, some unwanted breathing room.
“I, uh . . . I have some work to do,” he says, going to his desk where he picks up my purse and brings it to me.
“Then I’ll give you some space.” I take my purse from him, our fingers connecting for a brief second before I start toward his office door.
His hand goes to my back, guiding me gently to the heavy door, sliding down until it rests right above my ass. I squeeze my eyes shut as his chest falls in close behind me, his masculine scent invading me once again. Leaning over, his mouth to my ear, he says, “Thank you, Peyton.”
He reaches in front of me and opens the door, ushering me through. When I look behind me, he’s gripping the door and the glass wall, his gaze sharp and enticing.
Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he says, “Lauren, please make reservations for Peyton and me at Number 9. Seven o’clock.”
Lauren pops her head up and nods. “On it.”
Never wavering, he says, “See you then.”
And then he shuts his door, sending my heart into a tailspin.
Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ROME
I take a sip of my wine and lean back in the curved booth I’m sharing with Peyton, completely and utterly exhausted. We took a twenty-minute break to eat, but the rest of our time here has been spent nailing down all the fine details of the campaign.
Despite the fact that we’re at a five-star restaurant in the heart of New York City.
It’s been meticulous and time-consuming, but for the first time today, I feel at ease—and optimistic—and it’s all because of the beautiful woman sitting next to me, sipping on a glass of red wine.
“How do you feel?” she asks, eyeing me, her gaze falling to my neck; the spot where my shirt is unbuttoned. Peyton wets her lips, mouth parted, eyes sparkling.
I stare, my own wineglass inches from my lips.
Sip your wine. Drink it all, you fool.
This woman just saved your ass. Do not hit on her—it’s not professional. Jesus Christ—that’s something Hunter would do.
Not me.
Then again, I can’t think of a better way to thank her by taking her to my apartment and stripping her down bare so I can roam my hands and tongue and body over every last inch of her.
“How do you feel?” she repeats, assuming I didn’t hear it the first time.
“I feel,” I say it slowly, choosing the words. “Relieved.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Relieved?”
“Yeah, relieved.” I nod. “You did good, Peyton.”
“I . . . you don’t know how much that mea—” She pauses and takes a deep breath, getting choked up. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, Rome. I worked my ass off for you once I left the office. I wanted to make sure that this was all going to be okay.”
She really is amazing.
Why did it take me so long to see it? Apparently because I didn’t lift my eyes from my desk. Something else this woman in front of me has taught me. Beautiful and intelligent.
“It shows, and I really can’t thank you enough.”
Smiling, she slightly tilts her head to the side and takes a sip of her wine, a playful look in her eyes that’s making me feel a little uneasy, makes me squirm in my seat.