Pure Temptation, page 17
Because he wasn’t looking at me, I rolled my eyes at this typical response. ‘And I suppose you can get me laid too?’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t miss a beat, signing yet another paper. ‘I can do that as well.’
This would have been a joke with any other man. But Ulysses didn’t joke.
I nearly laughed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘No, I’m not kidding.’
Of course he wasn’t. He didn’t know how to kid.
An inexplicable jolt of electricity shot through me. ‘So, you’re seriously offering to take me on a date? And then what? Have sex with me?’
He signed the last paper and finally looked up. ‘Yes. I believe that’s exactly what I said. Do I really need to repeat myself?’
I was conscious of a strange, twisting feeling in my gut. A familiar twisting feeling.
Because although Ulysses White might have zero people skills, he got away with it, because he was, quite simply, beautiful.
Not in the way my brother was beautiful—Damian was all warmth, all charm—but in the way a perfect diamond was beautiful. Or an iceberg. Or a mountain. Or a statue.
His features were sculpted: high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, an oddly sensual mouth and straight nose. It was an intensely masculine face and yet there was a distance to his beauty. A coldness. His looks were the kind that prompted worship rather than a desire to touch; his beauty was so sharp, you’d probably cut yourself on it.
His eyes were as black as his hair and as cold as the rest of him, glittering like obsidian, and for a second I didn’t know what to say.
He meant it. He’d absolutely take me on a date and then he’d have sex with me. Which would have been a lot more flattering if it had been about me. But it wasn’t. He’d never shown the slightest bit of sexual interest in me, which was just as well since not only was he my boss, he was my older brother’s friend, and Damian would definitely have words to say about it.
Not that I cared about what words Damian would have said.
Do you care about Ulysses showing interest, though?
That strange little pulse went through me again.
Ulysses was very attractive and I’d have had to be blind not to notice. In fact, when I’d first started working for him, I’d developed a bit of a crush. However, that had soon vanished when it had become apparent he didn’t seem to notice that I was even a woman. I’d have thought he wasn’t interested in sex at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that he often got me to find him female company of an evening.
Yes, I managed his little black book, and he had quite the stable despite his consistent lack of charm or anything approaching romance. I’d once asked one of them what drew them to him, and I’d expected it to be about the money or the power. But, though those were indeed attractive, it was more because he was very, very good in bed.
A fact I hadn’t realised I’d filed away until now.
I knew getting offended would be pointless, as he hadn’t meant to be offensive. He was only being his usual literal self.
‘No, you don’t need to repeat yourself,’ I replied, his literalism meeting my calm. ‘But you do realise that sexual relations between us would be problematic?’
He gave me the frown he always gave me when I confronted him with something puzzling. ‘Why?’
‘You’re my boss and sleeping with the boss is generally not a good idea.’
‘I don’t see the problem. If you feel you’d be more productive after sex, then it seems logical that I should provide you with it.’
My cheeks warmed, which was stupid, given I’d never had a problem with Ulysses’s blunt honesty before. ‘I didn’t say that I would be more productive after sex. I said I would be more productive after a holiday.’
‘Yes. A holiday involving meeting someone, a date and some sex.’
Damn. Why had I said that? I’d let my irritation get the better of me, which had been a mistake. It always was with Ulysses.
My cheeks got even warmer and he noticed, his gaze narrowing. ‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Morgan.’
‘I’m not embarrassed,’ I said automatically.
‘Yes, you are. Does the thought of sex with me bother you?’
My stomach twisted again, a certain heated fantasy taking shape in my head of his hands holding me down, not letting me go. Of me struggling to get away, but knowing he was too strong. Of knowing that I’d never be able to get away from him no matter how hard I tried...
I shoved the shameful fantasy away. Hard.
‘Again, you’re my boss,’ I said. ‘It isn’t appropriate. Come on, Ulysses. You know HR has a policy about this kind of thing. I helped you write it, remember?’
He ignored that completely, his gaze unwavering and very, very direct. ‘It shouldn’t bother you,’ he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I’m very good at it.’ He said the words without any discernible smugness or triumph. As if it was an undisputed fact, as certain as gravity and that humans needed oxygen to breathe.
‘I’m sure you are.’ I took no notice of the feeling that kept twisting in my gut. ‘But that doesn’t change the policy.’
‘Then I’ll rewrite the policy.’ He put his pen down, continuing to stare at me with the kind of unwavering concentration he normally only gave to his study of the stock market. ‘If you need me to prove it to you, I can.’
‘Prove it to me?’ I repeated blankly. ‘Prove what?’
He pushed his chair back and stood up, and just like that I became aware of him in a way I hadn’t been before—or, at least, hadn’t let myself be aware of before.
Six-foot-four and built like a rugby prop forward, his beautifully cut charcoal suit enhanced powerful shoulders and a broad chest, a lean waist and long legs. Just like his face, his body was nothing but sheer male perfection.
He rounded the desk and, with a jolt, I realised he was coming straight for me.
‘Ulysses?’ My voice sounded not quite as shocked as it should have. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Copyright © 2020 by Jackie Ashenden
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ISBN: 9781488062193
Pure Temptation
Copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Hunter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Rebecca Hunter, Pure Temptation
