Page 1 of Dangerously Tempting
1
Amelia
Playlist: "Ooh La La," Goldfrapp
Go to a business convention, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Bullshit. I’m calling bullshit.
So far, it’s been a nerve-wracking fiasco of trying to make sure everything is set up, I’m where I’m supposed to be, and that I time my pee breaks perfectly so that no one shows up at my table while I’ve disappeared to do my business. How I’m supposed to do that last one, I’m not sure. I refused to bring one of the office assistants with me on this trip, and I’m certainly regretting that decision now.
It’s a damn good thing I like a man in a suit. It’s the only thing I’ve got going for me in this shit show. I don’t care if it’s a full-on jacket and tie combo, or sans-jacket with the tie gone and sleeves rolled up to the forearms. I’ll take it all. A nicely dressed man is my poison, and I won’t even feel the slightest bit bad about it. They ogle my tits enough that it’s only fair I get to eye fuck them in return. Quid pro quo and all that shit.
Sadly, not a single one of them can hold a conversation worth having to save their lives. I’ve been bored to near tears with the topics I’ve had to endure while trapped behind this stupid folding table covered in papers. It’s always about them, their jobs, and their boring ass monotonous lives. Gag me.
If just one person would show up and entertain me, I’d be not only thankful, but I might actually pay them. In money or sexual favors, I’ve yet to decide. Regardless, I’ve been sending SOS signals with my eyes to every passing person for the last hour to no avail and I’m about to throw in the towel.
Is there even hope in a barren, funless landscape such as this? Am I shooting an impossible shot? Why can’t one single businessman have a glimmer of something to offer?
I give. There’s nothing happening here and it’s been a while since anyone has stopped by my table. With a huff that sends my hair blowing away from my face, I pull my phone into my lap and check it discreetly so I don’t look like an absolute asshole. I’m not supposed to be on it at all, but I can’t resist when I’m in this position.
I have about 15 missed messages from my bestie and too many emails to count. Neither of those is a lifeline right now. The emails will put me to sleep and my bestie’s messages are always a huge risk to open in public. Could be an innocent meme or a dick pic. There’s no way to know until I’ve opened it and the poor nosy person behind me gets an eyeful of an impossibly large cock. Punishment or a reward? That has yet to be determined.
A throat clears and I jerk upright, my phone slipping from my fingers to fall into my lap where it proceeds to slip between my legs and clatter to the floor. My eyes jerk up to collide with the brightest pair of green irises I’ve ever seen in my life. I always thought eyes like that were a trick of lighting or Photoshop, but this guy is blowing that thought to smithereens.
His face is dusted with a well-tamed beard that fits his chiseled face perfectly and proclaims him all man. He has dark brown hair, borderline black, and his clothes fit him like they were made just for him. He’s left the jacket and tie behind, his button-up undone at the top to show a peek of chest hair, and his sleeves are cuffed, displaying toned forearms covered in tattoos that have me snapping my mouth closed so I don’t drool as my eyes connect with his again.
“I’m sorry,” I force out, trying to rid myself of the breathless sound that just left me unbidden by clearing my throat. “Do you have any questions? Need help filling anything out?”
The corner of his lip quirks up into a smirk, and it’s at that moment I know he’s the type that knows what he looks like and exactly what he does to women. My spine straightens a fraction more and I pull in a breath, waiting for what might come out of that gorgeous mouth.
“If you could pretend that you’re giving me the most in-depth spiel about your company as possible, with all the bells and whistles, I would be forever grateful.”
His voice is deep, pleasant to the ears and somehow has me leaning across the table toward him as he speaks, giving him my undivided attention. His words have me pursing my lips for a second, trying to school my features into anything other than confusion. I’ve been in countless situations like this with other women, the instant fake best friend, here to save them from the creepy ass dude that won’t take no for an answer. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a man approach me this way, and it’s throwing me off a little.
I reach across the table and grab a stack of papers, motioning to them as I glance up at him just as I would with anyone else. “You’re gonna have to give me a bit more to work with here if you want this to be believable. Not that I’m judging, but the stiff thing you’ve got going on here just isn’t selling it.” I point to the page and flick my eyes up to him with the most professional smile I can muster.
He leans over the table like he’s taking a closer look, mumbling an apology, and his minty breath fans across my face, stealing my own away. Jesus this man. He has no right to look like that and also not smell like the last thing he put in his mouth. It should be a crime. He should at least smell badly, be a complete asshole, or something to compensate.
With a hard blink, I look back down at the page and clear my throat again. “As you can see from this standard, boring paperwork, this may or may not be something that you’re interested in. If you are interested, you can take one of those pens I have right over there,” I continue as I motion down the table, “and fill in the copious amount of blank spaces with your information, so we might better stalk you later and possibly harass you into an agreement if you were at all hesitant to say yes.”
He snorts, pinching his lips together to hold back his laugh as he reaches over and grabs a pen. I’m pretty sure he’s just scribbling as he moves the pen across the page, but I couldn’t care less if I have to throw the damned thing away. I talk while he writes, going through my normal pre-rehearsed list of things I’m supposed to mention about our company and what we do and take a glance around like I’m pursuing more men to lure into my business talk web.
I spot the woman he’s dodging instantly. Not because she stands out, but because she’s staring so hard at his ass as he bends over my table that I’m shocked his pants don’t disintegrate straight off of his body. She’s giving off the same vibes as a creepy old man that corners you as you’re trying to leave the restroom but can’t be any older than 25 at best. I’m so tempted to stand from the table and put myself between them that I have to grip the metal chair beneath me to keep myself seated, the edges digging into my fingers as I squeeze it for dear life.
He’s not mine. Sexy as he is, and as much as I wish I could get him on me, over me, in me, I will not take the risk of coming off like blondie over there. I lean forward a bit, pointing at the page like he missed filling something out.
“Do I need to get security or something? She doesn’t seem to be taking the hint.”
“She’s not that bad, just incredibly persistent.” Our gazes meet again and it’s a battle of wills to even look away. I could look into his eyes for hours. There are so many different shades of green hidden in their depths that I wouldn’t even know where to start in naming them all.
“If you say so. She kind of gives off stalker vibes.”
He grimaces. “More like she wants what she can’t have, but I guess that’s pretty close.”
“Ah,” I say, like everything suddenly makes sense. “Were you nice, and she assumed that meant you wanted to fuck her?”
He fails to hold back his laugh this time, like he didn’t expect me to be so crass. I might be petite and have an innocent look on the exterior, but I curse like a sailor and I’ll scrap like one, too, if it comes down to it.
“Something like that,” he responds, flipping the packet of papers closed again.