Everett’s POV as he speaks to Reese:
Go to lunch with me.”
“Won’t the guys wonder why we’re going?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what any of them think about it.”
“But I do. Remember?” She stands, and those eyebrows of hers are about to reach the peak of her forehead as her fists rest against her hips. Why in the hell did I agree to condition two?
“Look, apparently you worked at stuffier establishments than this. We’re a family business, and everyone is laid back here. You’re paranoid. No one would think less of you because we like each other.”
“I’m finishing my first fucking week here, and you think they’re not going to think differently of me?”
Charging right at her, I pull her into my arms and take hold of her chin firmly. “You need to lower your own damn voice, and we’re about to wrestle if you don’t chill.”
She exhales a frustrated breath as she leans her head back and stares at the ceiling. Her smooth throat calls to me like the wind when I’m riding. There’s never a destination far enough to get my fill of the open road, and I have an uneasy yet thrilling sense that I won’t get my fill of Reese, either.
She’s layers of mystery that I need time to unfold, and her feistiness gets my blood coursing and dick throbbing, leaving me desperate for a release. Sliding my hands into the back of her hair,
I hold her still and start at the hollow of her neck. The tip of my tongue embarks on its journey upward, making small circles. She swallows hard beneath it, and knowing she’s excited has my cock aching against my zipper. Her hands slip under the front of my black t-shirt, blasting me with heat as my tongue skates its way up. I circle her ear before the tip barely skims along the skin behind it.
“What you do to me, I can’t explain it. I have to show you. Let me fucking show you, Reese, and stop being so damn difficult.”
Fingers follow the ripples of my abs like she’s reading goddamn braille, and I’m about to spread her wide on this desk and pleasure her until she can’t even cry out my name because she’ll hardly be able to breath.
“Son of a bitch,” I say before I let her go and storm to the door. Pointing back at her, I see that she’s panting, her eyes barely open, skin pink and blotchy. Dammit.
“You and me tonight, and I’m getting a taste this time.” I can’t help but scowl as I readjust my raging hard-on in my jeans. I’m impossible. Bullshit. Working with her is what’s damn near impossible.
Reese Abbott thought her step up to an accounting manager would be with a more prestigious company than Casteel Motorsports, especially when she steps foot inside the building. Finding it spattered in grease and overrun by male employees, she wonders what she has gotten herself into.
Everett Casteel is the man in charge. His three brothers help run the operation, making it more of a family affair and a place for ribbing and pranks. When Reese is hired without Everett’s knowledge, he’s furious. Having lost his wife in an auto accident, two years prior, he doesn’t want any woman filling the job his wife once held.
Unexpectedly, he’s drawn to Reese and can’t help but want her physically. Although she has gone without sex for several months, she has no intentions of having a fling with her new boss. When bad boy, Everett, makes a pass at her, it sends Reese running out the door in her heels. Her younger sister, Becca, convinces her that an exciting affair with her boss is exactly what she needs before she likely settles down with a boring man.
Unable to resist Everett, she agrees to his sexual games as long as he agrees to her conditions. Both wanting to have the upper hand, they challenge each other sexually, experimenting in ways they have only imagined. Neither bargain for what the other brings to the table, and when both think they’ve found exactly what they’re looking for, Reese makes a discovery about Everett’s deceased wife. The shocking revelation leaves him questioning the value of trust; the very thing he convinced Reese she had found in him.
This is a hot, sexy read with descriptive sexual scenes and harsh language.
Everett’s POV as he speaks to Reese:
Go to lunch with me.”
“Won’t the guys wonder why we’re going?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what any of them think about it.”
“But I do. Remember?” She stands, and those eyebrows of hers are about to reach the peak of her forehead as her fists rest against her hips. Why in the hell did I agree to condition two?
“Look, apparently you worked at stuffier establishments than this. We’re a family business, and everyone is laid back here. You’re paranoid. No one would think less of you because we like each other.”
“I’m finishing my first fucking week here, and you think they’re not going to think differently of me?”
Charging right at her, I pull her into my arms and take hold of her chin firmly. “You need to lower your own damn voice, and we’re about to wrestle if you don’t chill.”
She exhales a frustrated breath as she leans her head back and stares at the ceiling. Her smooth throat calls to me like the wind when I’m riding. There’s never a destination far enough to get my fill of the open road, and I have an uneasy yet thrilling sense that I won’t get my fill of Reese, either.
She’s layers of mystery that I need time to unfold, and her feistiness gets my blood coursing and dick throbbing, leaving me desperate for a release. Sliding my hands into the back of her hair,
I hold her still and start at the hollow of her neck. The tip of my tongue embarks on its journey upward, making small circles. She swallows hard beneath it, and knowing she’s excited has my cock aching against my zipper. Her hands slip under the front of my black t-shirt, blasting me with heat as my tongue skates its way up. I circle her ear before the tip barely skims along the skin behind it.
“What you do to me, I can’t explain it. I have to show you. Let me fucking show you, Reese, and stop being so damn difficult.”
Fingers follow the ripples of my abs like she’s reading goddamn braille, and I’m about to spread her wide on this desk and pleasure her until she can’t even cry out my name because she’ll hardly be able to breath.
“Son of a bitch,” I say before I let her go and storm to the door. Pointing back at her, I see that she’s panting, her eyes barely open, skin pink and blotchy. Dammit.
“You and me tonight, and I’m getting a taste this time.” I can’t help but scowl as I readjust my raging hard-on in my jeans. I’m impossible. Bullshit. Working with her is what’s damn near impossible. 
Scarlet Wolfe began writing in January of 2013 as a way to distract and heal from some of the grief she was dealing with after the death of her teenage son. She instantly fell in love with bringing characters to life. Releasing contemporary romance throughout 2013, she has already branched out this year, releasing erotica and teen. She loves her family, friends, chocolate, wine, stories about possessive, hot alpha males, and other flavors of ice cream besides vanilla. ;) She hopes her writing will encourage readers to feel more comfortable exploring their sexuality.
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