P.S. I Loathe You by Isla Olsen

Author:Isla Olsen [Olsen, Isla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Moonwalker Press
Published: 2022-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Devon

* * *

I’m distracted on my phone as I walk back to my office after lunch, so I don’t notice my PA, Krystal, attempting to catch my attention at first. It’s not until she’s skidded to a halt in front of me, just outside my office door that she comes to my attention.

“What’s up?” I ask, a little bemused by her behaviour.

“I was just trying to let you know that I already let him into your office.”

I blink at her, confused. “Who?”

“Emma’s brother.”

“He’s here?”

She nods. “You have a meeting with him.”

“What? No I—”

She brushes past me, returning to her computer and bringing up my calendar. “Right here. Wes Holt. 1.30pm.”

The fucking bastard. I give a slight shake of my head and turn back toward my office. “Right. Of course.” I enter my office and close the door behind me, peering into the room to find Wes lazing in my desk chair, looking out at the view of the wharf from my window. “You can’t just set fake meetings in my calendar. I actually have a job to do here, you know.”

He glances up at me, offering a teasing smirk. “I know. Consulting…fancy.”

“Well, not everyone can make a living from sticking needles into people’s skin,” I say dryly.

He unfolds himself from my chair and starts walking toward me. “Nice office,” he observes, glancing around. “Is it soundproof?”

I give a wry shake of my head. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Wes pauses in front of me, heat-filled eyes scanning up and down my body. “Hoping to fulfil one of my fantasies.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unwrapping you like a present and fucking you right there on that desk.”

My mouth goes dry as I try to battle with myself not to let his words affect me. I lose. “That’s…a fantasy of yours?”

“Uh huh.” He reaches out and tugs on my tie, causing me to stumble forward against him. His lips crush mine in a torrent of need and lust that I can’t help responding to.

“I thought you hated my suits?” I ask breathlessly.

He gives a wry quirk of one eyebrow. “About as much as you hate my piercings.”

Our lips crash together again, and I find myself clinging to Wes as he guides us over to my desk.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I stutter out as some of my senses manage to push through the cloud of lust. “It’s the middle of the day. Anyone could walk in.”

“Don’t you ever want to live dangerously?” he murmurs, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth.

God, yes. My cock is begging me to just go for it, but my mind is finding it impossible to get on board. If someone were to walk in on us it wouldn’t just be the end of my time at this company, I could become unhirable if word got around.

“Not that dangerously,” I mutter, stepping back and gaining some much-needed space. I can tell Wes is disappointed, but for once he doesn’t goad me or taunt me about being uptight. Maybe that’s why I decide to throw him a bone.

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