Page 5 of Illicit Education

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Page 5 of Illicit Education

His eyes searched mine, lit with amusement. “Are you alright?”

Deep and slightly rumbly, this man’s voice alone could bring a woman to her knees, but combined with the whole package? Absolutely deadly. I licked my lips, staring dumbly because he’d asked me a question. Hell if I could remember what it was though.

“You dropped something.” Releasing his firm grip on my elbow, he bent to retrieve the book that fell out of my purse a moment ago, brushing against my leg in the process and sending a sinful shiver up my spine. When he straightened, his eyes found mine again, and that annoying smirk was back in place. He raised that condescending eyebrow again. “Simona Steele?”

I bristled, narrowing my gaze and daring him to say whatever snarky thing was on the tip of his tongue. As if I hadn't heard it all before. As if romance wasn’t a valid genre, worthy of respect. As if romance didn’t top the charts day in and day out.

As if Simona Steele didn’t dominate the New York Times bestseller list right this very moment.

When he didn’t say anything further–smart man–I snatched the book from his hands and tucked it against my chest protectively.

Of coursea man this handsome had to be a jerk.

Did he evenknowwho Simona Steele was? I glanced at the numbers above the door as we made our way to the top of Reed Tower. Luckily for him, we'd almost reached my floor. Otherwise, I’d give him a piece of my mind.

Simona Steele wasthemost successful author of our time, thank you very much. And not just in the romance world. No, Simona Steele had far surpassed the highest earners in fantasy and sci-fi with her latest release, knocking even the great Stephen King and George R.R. Martin out of the top spot.

Chancing a glance at his reflection, I caught him watching me again. Still. Whatever.

I glared at the numbers above the doors, counting down as each number lit up on our way to the top. But with every floor we passed, my anger grew.

You know what? Forget taking the high road.

I swiveled toward him. “There’s nothing wrong with reading romance.” He probably didn’t evenread. One of those arrogant men who thought fiction was beneath him, who only readForbesorTheWall Street Journal.

And only then because he was on his porcelain throne andbored.

“You probably don’t even read,” I continued, giving voice to my thoughts without pausing to talk myself out of this moment. “I am so damn tired of people like you–”

The elevator stopped at the fifty-eighth floor, and the doors opened for a woman to step inside. I closed my mouth, grateful for the interruption. I’d been about to take things too far.

The woman’s face lit up at the sight of the gorgeous man still positioned firmly in the center of the elevator as if he owned the damn thing. When he didn’t move to make room for the new passenger, she sidestepped him, looking up at him in awe.

And he completely ignored her, the arrogant jerk.

I rolled my eyes. If she onlyknew. I’d been in his presence for a mere matter of minutes and wanted to rip his head off.

Chapter Four

Cabot

A ripple of irritation traveled through me as the blonde from my women’s fiction imprint settled in on my other side, gazing up at me with that doe-eyed infatuation in her eyes that was too young and naive for a woman of her age. Ignoring her as I’d done countless times before, I focused on the chestnut-haired beauty beside me instead.

She was far more interesting.

To say I was intrigued would have been a gross understatement.

No onespoke to me the way she just had. No one dared raise a voice to a man whose name matched the one on the building. I was constantly surrounded by women like the blonde now standing to my right. Concupiscence and desperation a cloying perfume. I wanted nothing to do with any of them. There was no challenge in their eyes, no hint of a chase.

The blonde was a sure thing–had made that quite clear countless times before–and where was the fun in that?

I couldn’t even remember her name and we’d been to lunch together.

No matter. She didn’t hold my attention then and she certainly didn’t hold my attention now.

Not like the spitfire still bristling on the other side of me.

Her passion was tantalizing, intriguing. She aroused in me my need to dominate, control. She sparked a lust I hadn’t felt in ages.




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