“I like the way you think, Dani.”
She merely smiles again.
“Mr. Jamison cares about you, Miss Marshall. He wouldn’t have asked me to come see you if he didn’t. Just treat him well, and you’ll be fine.”
I nod and relax back into the bliss of the massage. Is Dani right? Does Gray see something special in me, or am I nothing but a temporary plaything?
7
Gray
It’s Friday afternoon, and all I can think about is Harlow Marshall. The way she moves, so natural and free. The way she laughs, a real belly laugh and not those contrived giggles that other women do. Really, it’s the way she does everything. There’s nothing phony about her, and nothing fake. She’s just a woman living her life. Hell, she doesn’t even wear makeup most of the time, just that sweet lip gloss that tastes like cookies. All it takes is the thought of her lips and I get a hard-on.
And yet she’s so sweet and young and beautiful…those lush hips are perfect for grabbing from behind. Her angelic face with its soft features and fluttering eyes when she comes? Oh hell, I need her in my office right now. I reach for the intercom to have my secretary call her in, but then my hand stops. Priscilla already suspects what I’m doing with Harlow, and the unfortunate part is that she’s Brent’s secretary too.
Oh. Fuck. Brent.
Jesus, he would kill me if he found out I was fucking Harlow. My best friend’s twenty-one-year-old daughter. Shit. This is wrong, so wrong. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Well, that’s not true. I know exactly what I’m doing. I have wanted the curvy girl for years, and now I have her. Fuck it. I’m going to make the most of this.
“Priscilla,” I buzz on the intercom. “Please ask Miss Marshall to come to my office.”
“Of course, sir, right away,” she says in her usual clipped fashion. Is there a hint of disapproval in her tone? I brush it away.
I drum my fingers on my desk and then lurch to my feet and impatiently pace the room. I want to run my fingers through Harlow’s hair while she howls those sweet notes again. I want to drink her nectar as I paint her with my tongue. I want everything she is, and I want her now.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump. Shit, she’s really gotten to me. Trying to look casual, I lean on my desk, arms folded.
“Come.”
Harlow walks in, and she’s so small, yet she takes up all of my vision. I can’t help myself. I’m falling hard, and fast.
“Close the door, sweetheart.”
She turns to close it quietly, and as soon as the latch snicks, I press myself to her backside. I love the way she shakes when I catch her off guard. I lift her hair and kiss the nape of her neck before I let it fall.
“Missed you, sweetheart.”
She turns around and purrs.
“I missed you too, Gray.” Her arms snake around my neck and her lips are upturned for a kiss, but I make her wait for it.
“Come with me,” I take her hand.
“I’ve been doing that all morning!” she fake-whines.
I chuckle at her pun.
“You’re better than a bad joke, Harlow.”
“Am I?” she teases. “I’m not so sure.”
I grin. I love our banter, and how easy it is.
“Come on, sweetheart. This way,” I lead her to my private elevator.
“Where are we going?” she asks, big eyes wide.
I step into the elevator and ask, “Do you trust me?”
She steps in and says, “Of course. With my life.”
That makes me smile. I press ‘B’ and the elevator drops. She loses her balance slightly, and tumbles into my arms.
“Careful now. Are those heels too high?”
“Sorry,” she blushes. “I hardly ever wear heels, so yes. Did I hurt you?”
I laugh, “No, of course not, sweetheart. You hardly weigh more than a feather.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes.
“I don’t think so, Gray. Ever since the beginning of this summer, I swear I’ve put on ten pounds just because you keep feeding me.”
I press a fond kiss to her forehead.
“Exactly. I want you to put on weight, baby girl, because you’re even more beautiful and lush this way.”
She merely smiles again and giggles. It’s the sweetest sound, and I harden at the tinkle. But then she looks at me.
“Why are we heading downstairs? Got something special planned with your naughty camera in the basement? Are the cameras still up, even? I thought construction was almost done.”
I chuckle.
“No, I have something else to show you.” The doors slide open, and we’re next to my parking space in my private garage. Her eyes go wide as she looks around and I explain. “I like to keep a few cars here, just in case.”
She’s taking in the yellow Lamborghini, red Maserati, and gray Ferrari, among others
“But in case of what? Are you worried someone would rob you of a collection of luxury cars?” she says of multiple automobiles.
I grin.
“It’s a bad habit, but I tend to grab cars when I see them. You have to seize the opportunity, right? Carpe diem.” I open the passenger door to a black 1955 MG roadster. “Come on, in you go.”
“I guess so,” she smiles and sits.
I advise, “There’s a scarf for your hair in the glove box.”
“Oh,” she gets it out, ties her hair into a ponytail, and wraps the scarf around. “I’ve never ridden in a convertible before, but then, I also didn’t know I was being kidnapped today. I feel like Grace Kelly in an old-time movie.”
“Well, you know I have more than just a scarf available. Cheeky girls also get the belt,” I say, nodding to the seatbelt.
“Oooh, Daddy.”
“Talk like that and I’ll have to have you right here and now, and you’ll miss your
