Dylan, page 2
It takes forever before she finally answers, “Hey, Harley, it’s Dylan Hunter.”
“Dylan? What time is it?” Her voice is sexy even when she’s half asleep.
“It’s one in the morning.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“No, I found a position for you,” I answer cheerfully.
“Excuse me? It’s one in the morning and you found a position? Am I on my knees for this one?” she asks, her voice full of skepticism and sarcasm.
“Don’t tempt a man,” I mutter, slamming my eyes shut; my dick is so hard I could build a house with it.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, but it starts right away, so I need you to get dressed and come with me.”
“Right away? Like when?”
“Like right now.”
“What? What’s the job?”
“It’s as my live-in personal assistant. I’ll pay you two hundred thousand a year.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Are you trying to sleep with me?”
“Hell, no, I’m not.”
“Well, way to hurt my feelings.”
“It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Ha, let me just stop you there. I’ll take the job, and I’ll be down in twenty minutes. I have to attend a family wedding in two weeks, so you’ll be without me for a bit, and next weekend I’m going to a bachelorette party as the designated driver. If that doesn’t work, then you can look for someone else.”
I’m not okay with it, but I’ll be having someone follow her, or perhaps I’ll do it myself. No, I can’t, because I might rip someone’s head off if I do. Swallowing my irrational jealousy, I answer calmly, “It’s fine. Just move your ass. I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”
“Where do you want me to meet you?”
“I’m outside.”
“You’re outside my apartment?”
“Yes. Now—less talking and more moving.”
Chapter Two
Harley
I pack my bags quickly. Luckily, I was already mostly packed since I was on my way to being thrown out of my apartment in a couple of days. It only took me a few minutes to get my toiletries in a bag and to change out of my pajamas. When life hits you, it really hits you hard. My landlord raised my rent right after I graduated from college, making it harder to come up with enough money for rent.
I come outside, and he’s waiting with a large SUV there to pick me up. “That was fast. Were you planning on leaving town?”
“If you must know, I was going to get evicted if I couldn’t pay my rent soon, so I was already packing up since I just lost my job.” Why am I completely honest with this guy? This is like the fifth time I’ve told him the truth when I don’t owe him an ounce of honesty after everything he did.
“Well, then, this works out just fine.” There isn’t a drop of remorse in his voice. “You’ll have a place to live and earn enough money to save.” Good. So when I quit working for this handsome jerk, I can find a nice place to live where someone doesn’t know about my supposed perverted background.
“Yep,” I answer, pressing my lips together as he holds the door open for me. He waits for me to buckle myself in before he closes it and then locks my door. After that, he loads up my things and then enters the driver’s side.
“I have a guest bedroom that will be yours for the time being. There will be no men allowed in the condo, understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“It’s Dylan. Say it.”
“Dylan.”
“Good. If you’re going to be my personal assistant, I want to make sure you can follow simple directions.”
“Are you always this grumpy at night, or is guilt eating you up so bad that you had to find a solution to your little problem?”
“That smart mouth of yours isn’t going to do you any good, Harley.”
“As your personal assistant, what are my duties?”
“You’ll be keeping track of my schedule inside and outside of work, picking up my suits among other things, but we’ll discuss more of that in the morning.” We drive in silence through the city streets until we arrive at a condo building. He parks his car next to the elevator and steps out. “Come on.”
He takes my hand to assist me out of his vehicle and then releases it as soon as my feet hit the ground, as if it disgusts him to touch me, which is fine by me since Mr. Arrogant is getting on my nerves. He may be gorgeous, but I’m not letting my hormones rule me, especially when they’re unwelcome. He presses his hand to the small of my back, leading me to the open elevator. “What about my things?”
“Someone will bring them along.”
A moment later, I see a man behind us heading to the back of the vehicle. Where the hell did he come from, and does he just have people at his disposal at any hour? If he has people like this, why does he need me?
We enter the condo, and I’m not surprised that it’s absolutely perfect—something straight out of a Pinterest board, or some photoshoot. It’s amazing.
“Your room is over here.” He leads me down the hall and then opens the door to an equally nice guest bedroom.
“Um…thank you.” I see the bed and let out a yawn. Mr. Hunter’s eyes darken, and he’s about to say something when we’re interrupted.
“Sir.” The giant from downstairs is standing inside the bedroom door with my things.
“You don’t ever come in here. This is her space.”
“Sorry, sir. I was just dropping off the bags.”
“Leave them there, and you can go.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” Okay, so he’s an asshole to everyone.
“Thanks for my stuff.”
“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wha…” He doesn’t let me finish before he shuts my bedroom door and is gone. I walk over to the amazingly fluffy bed and plop down. “This is wonderful,” I sigh, letting out another yawn. It’s too late to look for my pajamas again, so I strip out of my outer layers and slip under the covers in just my panties. The sheets feel like a dream as I let sleep take me.
There’s a rapt knocking on the bedroom door. “Harley, breakfast is ready.” His deep voice penetrates the door and so much more.
“Sorry, I’m coming,” I say groggily, rubbing my eyes. Picking up my cell phone, I see it’s already ten in the morning. Shit. Quickly, I grab some leggings and a top with a pair of slippers. I normally wake up early every day, but I guess it was the fancy bed and the middle-of-the-night wake-up call because I slept in. I must look like a mess, but it’s Saturday and he just messed up my schedule, so he’s going to have to deal with me as is for now.
I open the door and find him standing there. “Good morning.” Why does he look so damn good in just a plain black tee shirt and gray slacks? His muscles are jacked, stretching the fabric on his shirt, and I’m doing my best to not look at them, but damn, the man is packing massive cannons.
“You didn’t need to wait for me,” I say, trying to create some separation between us.
“Yes, I did, because you don’t know where we’re eating breakfast.”
“Oh. Wait, we’re going out?”
“No, but I don’t want you running around the entire condo without a bra on trying to find my office.” I cover my chest and my insanely hard nipples.
“Shit. Give me one more minute.”
“No problem. Just don’t let that slip-up happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s Dylan.”
“Yes, Dylan.”
“Good girl,” he says, crossing his arms, and I drop mine, turning on my heels before going back into my room to add a bra. Once I come back out, he leads me to his office, which is on the second floor of the condo with double doors. It’s freaking gorgeous. On an ornate wooden table, there’s a spread of food that smells delicious. “Come and eat.”
I nod and make a small plate, which earns me a curious stare and then a furrowed brow. “Don’t be shy. Your bright eyes opened up like a kid in a candy store.”
“I’m not a glutton. If I want more, maybe I’ll go back for more, but I get full fast.”
“Okay.” I don’t have a lot of money as a former college student, so I’ve learned to eat on a budget, which means meals can be small and sparse. “Please eat, and then we’ll discuss your tasks.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes before his phone rings and he takes a business call right in front of me. I’m surprised, but I suppose that as his personal assistant, it will be a normal thing. When he ends the call, I ask, “Should I have been taking notes?”
“No. If I need you to be taking notes, I’ll ask.” His tone is even, not harsh or soft, and I can’t tell how I’m supposed to take it, so I file it away as a matter-of-fact response. The man puzzles me. He’s attractive, smart, and when I see him, my pulse jumps in my throat, my heart races, and parts of me tingle that have never tingled before, but it’s pointless. The man doesn’t want anything to do with me. Maybe he can sniff my inexperience on me or something.
“So, are we ready to discuss my duties?” A look crosses his face.
“I’ve ordered you some supplies so that you can keep track of my calendar, update my schedule, and ensure that I’m at all functions on time. They should be here in the next two hours. For the rest of your duties, they will come along as needed. I have a stack of mail that needs to be sorted and gone through over there.”
“Yes, si—Dylan.”
“You can have my seat. I need to get my workout in. I know you don’t have my calendar up yet, but here it is. I have a meeting in two hours, which means you need to remind me to finish my workout in forty-five minutes so I’m not late. Understood?”
“Um…Dylan, where is the gym?”
“It’s next to your bedroom.” He winks and leaves his office. I watch him walk out with that V-shaped torso and killer glutes. No wonder he looks so damn good.
I set my timer on my phone to thirty-nine minutes so I have time to clean up my mess and get to him. Most of this stuff is junk mail, but there’s an invitation to a gala, and I’m not sure if he wants to attend or if he’ll send his regrets. Also, there are several important documents that I file to the side, and the rest I leave for the trash. My phone startles me, nearly sending me sliding out of his comfy chair. I set everything down and am thankful that most of this area is perfectly neat. Once I’m sure it’s good, I head down to the gym. The door is open, and inside, Dylan grunts as he pumps iron. I’m doing my best to fight the instant arousal coursing through my veins as the sweat drips down his naked chest. I check my phone, and he has two more minutes, so I step back out of the room.
“Harley, where are you going?”
“Sorry, sir. I mean, Dylan. It’s just you had two minutes left. I was a little early.”
“That’s okay. I’ve had enough for the morning. I’ll finish later.” My mouth falls open when I realize that he plans to work out again. Seriously, how many times does he work out in a day?
Chapter Three
Dylan
Fuck me raw. What am I doing to myself? I’ve created an even bigger mess by bringing her here and into my home. It’s like waving a juicy, raw steak in front of a hungry lion, and I’m motherfucking starving. When I caught her staring at me from the doorway, I almost dropped the weights and pounced on her. The fear of becoming my sperm donor is the only thing that held me back.
She has no idea who she decided to shack up with as a roommate. I have the potential to be a monster, and that scares me. She scares me, tempts me more than any other person in the world. I want her like I want air.
It’s bad enough that Harley doesn’t like or trust me, and if I give her one reason, she’ll bolt, and I can’t have that. I need her here, even if I can’t touch her, taste her, or claim her. I don’t want anyone else to have that perfection. I almost lost it this morning when she came out without a bra on, her dark nipples on display, bouncing as she bounded out the door and dragging my attention straight there. Timothy was so lucky that he’d stepped away a minute before or I would’ve blinded that son of a bitch.
I’m obsessed, and yet I can’t have her. It’s sick and wrong, so I should let her go, but she needs my help. Even if that fucker was nobody outside her building, I realized how unsafe her neighborhood was, and then to find out she was about to be evicted. Until she’s good and ready, I’ll keep her as my fake personal assistant.
Of course, I’ve caught several strange looks from my men since last night because I don’t allow any females in my life and into my private space. They most certainly know I don’t need a personal alarm clock. I operate like a machine, but it isn’t anyone’s business. I pay them to do a job, and now that includes protecting my little PA—precious assistant.
As soon as the shower is on, my hand goes straight to my cock. I’ve choked the fuck out of my meat since I’ve crossed paths with Harley. Thoughts of fucking that pretty little face and bending her over my desk has played in my visions every damn waking minute. Water sprays all over my body as I stroke up and down, rubbing my length until I come, shooting my load on my hand and the wall. It would be better if it was all over her.
Chapter Four
Harley
It’s been a week, and I’ve learned that I’m only here because he feels sorry for me and is making up for his mistake. As much as I want to up and quit, a girl needs her money, so I put on a fake smile and do his menial tasks that are useless because the man is a clock built by the finest artisans; I’ve yet to remind him of his job. Also, this place has its perks. The gym is killer, and I get to run on the fancy treadmill, getting in about ten miles a day.
It’s one of my favorite hobbies. I have done several races, including a marathon last year. Once, Dylan actually worked out at the same time and was surprised that I finished in record time. He was worried I’d burn out the motor. “I could always go running outside.”
“No, it’s better and safer for you to run inside.”
“I suppose.” I don’t mind either, but he has a point. It’s always so crowded at the park. Still, he works my nerves with his overly protective attitude, and I was so close to letting my tongue slip.
I stockpiled my first paycheck just in case I said something that got my ass fired. This weekend, I’m off with my cousin to her bachelorette party, so I’m getting ready now. With my light brown hair styled, looking a little less blah, and makeup slightly done, I slide on my little black dress, which makes me feel cute but not slutty.
Immediately, I nearly barrel into that great wall of a chest. “Mr…Dylan. I didn’t see you there.” He’s coming out of the gym with no shirt on, chest glistening with sweat, muscles amplified from the workout. I try to catch my breath, but how can I when he looks perfect? At least I can say it’s from slamming into him.
He looks me up and down. “Whoa. Where are you going?” he growls. He doesn’t notice my lack of oxygen.
Straightening my posture, I answer, “I told you that I have my cousin’s bachelorette party.”
“You look beautiful.”
There goes my breath again. “Thank you, Dylan.”
“Be a good girl and take one of my vehicles.”
I wave off his offer. “That’s not necessary. I was just going to take an Uber to my cousin’s and then take her car.”
He grasps my chin a little rough. “The fuck you are. You don’t belong in any stranger’s vehicle.” Shit, I think I need to change my panties. They’re soaked.
“Yes, sir. Anything else I should do?”
“Don’t start with me.” He closes the distance, the space between us becoming negligible. He presses his thumb along my mouth and my lips part. He leans in and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he brushes his lips by my ear and whispers, “Be a good girl tonight. Don’t make me kill anyone.” His teeth bite down on my lobe, grazing it before he quickly pulls away, and then he storms into his office and slams the door shut.
I don’t know how to breathe because my entire body is shaking with lust. Why? Why did he have to do that before I went out? The man has done everything to push me away. I shake my head and take the keys and my purse.
“Hello, ladies. What can I get you?” the bartender asks me. He’s handsome, and instantly I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.
“Do you, like, have some cosmos?” my cousin asks.
“Come on, Lily. This is a small town. They’re not going to have that stuff here.”
The bartender gives Sandra in her tight, shiny black dress a passing glance and then winks at the bride-to-be, my cousin. “Sugar, we have it all.” He gives us an appraising look, judging us, reading our overly done outfits for this bar. We should be club hopping in Dallas with these outfits instead of a biker bar, so he asks, “Now, how many cosmos am I mixing up?”
“We all want one,” the bitch answers for us.
I raise my hand and softly say, “I can’t have any. I’m the designated driver.”
“Would you like a Coke?” he offers me with no condescension in his voice.
“That sounds good to me.” I smile at him and he returns it, but there’s something in his appearance that is too familiar. It’s warm and inviting.
“Goodness, look at those muscles and tats. Seriously, Daddy.” God, Sandra doesn’t quit, even though she’s banging my cousin and probably several other people.
“Thanks,” he says, giving her that charming smile while doing some cool bartender-pouring skills.
“Boss,” someone calls him from the other end of the bar toward the entrance. We all look, and he’s a hot biker guy. No guy is as hot as Dylan, but I’m sure this guy has plenty of ladies following him, and I don’t doubt Sandra’s about to open her drunk, slutty mouth.
“Give me a minute,” he tells the guy.
“Ooh, he’s hot too. Damn. I’ve got a hot daddy and a sexy biker. Talk about a Sandra sandwich. Are you boys up for it?” She leans toward the guy that just came in.
