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154 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2014
“It’s important to you. That makes it important to me.”

"I ran to the snarly beast who grumbles and tolerates me, because I still believe you’d tear out the throat of anyone who came after me."

"When I give you control, I need you to know I understand what I’m doing. That I’m making a choice, because I want to."
Derek Ford could be as hopeless as he wanted. She’d fucking well hope enough for the both of them.



“I feel like I’ve been alone forever.”
“Do you feel alone here? Now?”
“Not when you’re touching me.”
“Then I won’t stop.”
“Tonight,” he whispered. “Let me show you.” “Anything.” She shivered as he stripped her shirt away, but not with nerves. When her gaze met his again, he saw only hunger and need.
“God, Derek. Everything. I want you to show me everything.”
Strength. Tenderness. Holding her close without holding her down. That was the promise of Dallas O’Kane, of all the O’Kanes.
She was starting to believe it.
“And she stuck you here.” He snorted again. “That must suck.”
“Not hardly. So you’re grumpy and drunk and like to talk about your dick.” She stepped closer, and he could smell her perfume now — something sensual and floral that hit him low in the gut. “You don’t own me. Makes you the best boss I’ve ever had."
But he’d give her back a hundred times what he took. He’d give her affection and pleasure and a chance to use her wits and her brains and her skills for something bigger than herself.
“Do you care if people watch? Do you want them to?”
“What other people?” She slid her hands up over those gorgeous arms to the broad shoulders that blocked out the rest of the world. “I only see you.”
"I need a job. If you don’t want me to mess with your files, fine—”
“Okay. Don’t mess with my files.”
She didn’t falter, didn’t even blink. “Then tell me what to do instead."
If I were an asshole... He waved the bottle of whiskey at her. “You could start by letting me drink half of this and jerk off so I can get some sleep.”
That snapped her teeth together—for about five seconds. “If you’re self-conscious about doing that with me in the next room, I could take some work home.”
“Self-conscious?” He dropped the bottle on his desk and unbuckled his belt. “I’ll lay it out right here, buttercup, if you like to watch.”
Her gaze flicked to his hands, and he got that flash of tongue he’d been waiting for as she wet her lips. “I wouldn’t be watching. I’d be working.”
Filing papers like there was nothing more interesting going on? Fuck that. “Bullshit.” Ford tugged open the top button on his jeans. “It may be a little battered these days, like the rest of me, but my ego’s not dead. If I start stroking my dick right in front of you, you’re damn sure gonna be paying attention. Not just watching—riveted." p.7

