Selene fucking Taylor.
I barely kept the surprise from my face when I realized she was sitting at the back of the conference room. I meant to spend more time familiarizing myself with the company roster before this meeting, but I don’t know if I would have believed it even if I saw her name. There could be more than one Selene Taylor in Seattle, couldn’t there? It’s not a common first name, but she can’t be the only one. There’s no fucking way I bought the company she works for.
But there she was—sleek brown hair, soft bronzed skin, dark eyes, full mouth. Holy shit, I still remember what it felt like to kiss that fantastic mouth.
I don’t know why she stands out the way she does. We only spent one night together. Maybe it’s because finally getting her into bed felt like conquering Mount Everest. Many men try, few succeed, and she made it almost impossible for me. She was clear from the moment we met that she did not date men she worked with. And she wasn’t kidding.
A lot of women say that, but if you pursue them hard enough, they relent. Not Selene Taylor. She kept me at a distance—a huge fucking distance—the entire time we worked together. I didn’t think she had a single weakness. I knew she dated. She just stuck to her one rule like it was iron clad, and there was no way I could get past it.
Until my last night at Tech Solutions.
A big group of us went out for drinks, and I found Selene standing alone at the bar, sipping a dirty martini. I love a challenge, and the fact that Selene had been inaccessible to me for so long made her completely irresistible. I spent time talking with her, and the more we chatted the more I realized she wasn’t just a stacked piece of ass with a face to match.
She was smart, and funny. She had a quick comeback for every one of my lines, never missing a beat. A woman like that could keep a man like me on my toes. That’s a rare thing.
I was a predator, circling my prey, and it wasn’t long before that rule of hers didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. After all, technically we no longer worked together. Our chemistry was off the charts—I think we’d both agree on that. I took her back to the hotel I’d rented for my last couple of nights in Seattle, and we lit that room up.
She was every bit as delicious as I imagined she would be. Tight, toned body. Legs for days. A set of tits that would make a swimsuit model jealous. She felt better than she looked, if that’s even possible. I strummed her like a fucking harp, making her pant and writhe. I watched her come the first time, pinned beneath me, and the orgasm she gave me was nothing short of epic. We were drenched and spent, sprawled out across the sheets, trying to catch our breath. Then I teased her, tasted her, got her hot again. The second time went from soft and slow to blazing hot and rough in the space of about two seconds.
Fuck, I can’t believe I remember it so well. It was five years ago, and it’s not like there haven’t been women since—quite a few, as a matter of fact. But that is one night I’ll never forget.
And now she works for me.
I shake hands with what’s-his-name, and manage to extricate myself from the conference room. I know everyone has a lot of questions. I just bought out their company and the entire staff must be waiting for the news that I’m bringing in my own people to replace them. But the truth is, I probably won’t.
A few will have to go—that’s inevitable. But it was the owner who was making a mess of this place. There’s a lot going right in this building, and with me at the helm we’re going to fucking own this market. I’ll only shake things up if I have to; for now, I’m content to let this ride and make big staffing decisions later.
I head to my new office. Brad cleared out late last night, so no one would realize. That was his call, not mine. The guy wants out of this place something fierce. He assured me he’ll be available if I have questions, but I know he’s full of shit. He’s taking his cut and running—probably somewhere tropical. I get the feeling Brad hasn’t been completely honest with the federal government on his personal tax returns.
I did my due diligence; my lawyers assure me the company itself is squeaky clean. Brad, though? I know the type. He probably has money stashed somewhere overseas. It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me. I’m all for risk taking—it’s one hell of a rush—but there are boundaries even I won’t cross. Tax evasion happens to be one of them.