The Ruthless CEO's Obsession

9

ETHAN

“But....”

“But what?” I snap, staring hard at her.

“I don’t understand,” she says again, quieter this time.

Frustration twists inside me. “You don’t understand that I actually earned everything I have? Is that what you’re saying?”

She looks caught off guard, like she wants to answer but can’t figure out what to say.

I lose my appetite instantly.

I grab my plate off the floor and carry it into the chef’s kitchen. I dump the leftovers into the trash, rinse the plate, and slide it into the dishwasher.

Then I clean up the rest of the mess. I gather the bags and empty containers from the table and throw them away.

After that, I close up the first aid kit, leave a couple ice packs out for her, and carry the kit back to the closet shelf in Ethan’s master suite.

Get it together.

This isn’t really about her.

She only thinks what everyone else thinks.

Still, she should know better than to make assumptions about me.

And what am I even doing standing here? I should be working.

I head back into the grand lounge and see her putting her own plate into the dishwasher.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up.”

Then I notice the trash.

Her entire meal is sitting there untouched.

Damn.

Good job being an asshole, Ethan.

“You didn’t eat.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“You need to keep ice on your leg. Grab your laptop and sit back down.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Go.” I point toward the couch.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

The usual response almost leaves my mouth. I’m your boss.

But I stop myself before saying it.

We glare at each other instead.

After a few tense seconds, she grabs her laptop bag and walks back to the couch. I follow her over. Carefully, I lift her legs onto the cushions and adjust the ice pack under her knee.

I try not to think about how smooth her legs feel under my hands.

Then I grab my laptop and sit beside her.

Too close beside her.

I keep staring at her feet and thinking things I definitely shouldn’t be thinking. Picking them up. Kissing them. Sliding my tongue across her skin.

I force myself to focus.

Once my computer loads, I send her access to a shared folder through CloudSync Vault.

“I emailed you the link.”

Her fingers move quickly over the keyboard.

That skirt has been messing with my head since she walked out of Sophie’s apartment earlier tonight. It’s short enough to keep pulling my attention back to her legs.

Too easy.

And that white shirt is even worse. It makes me picture a white bra underneath it. Soft. Innocent-looking.

Except she isn’t innocent.

Not even close.

And every time she moves, that slight view of her cleavage drags my attention right back to her chest. I keep imagining touching her there. Running my fingers down the center of it.

My mouth too.

The timer for the ice pack goes off.

Without thinking, I slide my hand slowly from her foot up along her leg to her knee before pulling the ice pack away and dropping it onto the floor.

My hand stays on her leg.

Jesus.

I’m going to ruin my own career.

This woman is going to destroy me.

She jumps slightly at the touch, and nervous energy hits me so hard I almost laugh.

“Did you open the email?”

“Yes,” she says softly. “What do you want me to look at first?”

“The spreadsheet.”

The second she opens it, her eyes brighten.

Seriously?

Don’t get excited over a spreadsheet.

Or maybe keep getting excited.

Stop it, Ethan.

She studies the file quietly while I watch her reaction.

After a moment, confusion slowly spreads across her face.

“These are all small biomedical firms,” she says. “Most of them barely make money, and we have no experience in pharmaceuticals. I don’t understand.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

She stares at me. “You honestly think ‘why not’ is enough of a reason?”

There is another reason.

I’m just not telling her.

“Yes,” she continues. “There has to be more to it.”

“Nope.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Without experience, you could completely destroy these companies.”

Okay.

She really is smart.

Smarter than people realize.

I shrug like none of it matters.

She straightens up and closes her laptop. “Why?”

I keep up the act because she already sees me as some rich guy who’s never had to fight for anything.

“Big reward if it works.”

“And if it fails?”

“Don’t care. Move on.”

Her eyes lock on mine. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re lying.”

I pull the pillow out from under her knee and lift both her legs into my arm before moving closer beneath them. Then I lean toward her slowly.

“Why would I lie?”

“You just are,” she says quietly. “I can tell.”

I move closer again until barely any space is left between us. Her lips part a little, and I catch myself staring at them before licking my own.

“How can you tell?”

“Because you’re not actually that big of an asshole.”

I raise an eyebrow.

The smell of her skin is making my head spin. It suddenly feels harder to breathe normally.

“No?”

“No.”

Her breathing is uneven too now. I can hear it.

Slowly, I slide one finger from the side of her neck down into the center of her cleavage. Her shirt shifts lower as my finger brushes lightly over the soft curve of her breasts.

Then I lower my voice.

“I think you’ve got me wrong now. I’m still the exact same asshole you thought I was.”

My other hand moves higher along the inside of her thigh.

“And I think that’s the version of me you want.”

She takes a shaky breath.

And I know I’m right.

She wants this.

She wants me.

And not the careful version either.

She wants the dangerous version. The selfish one. The asshole.

So that’s who I become.

Because I want Sophie Matthew too badly to stop now.

I know how wrong this is.

I know how badly this could end for me if things go sideways.

But none of that matters anymore.

I need her.

And if the version she wants is the asshole...

then I’ll be exactly that for her.