The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(20)

“You heard me. Dump him.” He reaches for me.

I step back to create distance between us. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t dump a boyfriend for one night of sex.”

“Yes. You can.”

“Jameson.” I drag my hands through my hair. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Quite possibly.” He hands me a business card. “Call me, and I’ll come and get you.”

JAMESON MILES

MILES MEDIA





212-639-8999


I stare at the card in my hand, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. My eyes rise to meet his. I know what this is to him—it’s just another one-night stand.

One night that could ruin every plan I’ve made for myself and jeopardize my career. I’ve worked too damn hard to get to New York to throw it away now for one night with a player. It’s the weirdest thing—I never picked him as a player when we were together, but the more I get to know him, the more I realize I never knew him at all.

The worst part about it is that I know Jameson Miles is the kind of drug that I don’t need an addiction to.

The memory of our night together is bad enough.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” I turn to walk out of the office. My body screams for me to go back, and then I stop as a thought crosses my mind. I turn back toward him. “How did you know?”

He lifts his chin as my eyes search his.

I walk back toward him. “How did you know that Ricardo has been at my desk?”

I glance around the room and see nothing but a mirror on the wall. “Are there cameras in here?” I ask.

“Never mind.”

“Oh, but I do,” I sneer. “I think I have a right to know, if it concerns me.”

He picks up a remote from his desk and pushes a button. “Give me level forty, please,” he commands.

The mirror turns into a television screen. It rolls a few times, and then a vision of my office floor appears. I see Aaron and Molly and . . . my desk.

What the hell?

“You’ve been watching me?” I gasp. “Why?”

His dark eyes hold mine. “Because it turns me on.” He grabs my hand and puts it over his crotch, and I can feel his rock-hard erection in his suit pants.

The air leaves my lungs as I stare up at him, and unable to help it, I wrap my hand around his hard length.

We stare at each other as our bodies’ desires take over. “I just can’t,” I whisper.

His hand cups my face. “I want you.”

“You don’t always get what you want,” I breathe.

“I do.” His mouth drops to my neck, and in slow motion, he licks from my collarbone up my neck and then whispers in my ear, “Get rid of him.”

Goose bumps shoot up my spine, and I step back, overwhelmed by the physical effect he has on me.

He grabs the erection in his pants and rearranges it as we stare at each other.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” I breathe.

He glares at me, his face cold, and my chest rises and falls as I fight my arousal. It’s taking every inch of my self-control not to jump on him, right here, right now.

He’s so hard under that suit . . . such a waste.

No.

I turn and walk out, take the elevator, and before I know it, I’m back down to my floor. My heart is beating heavily in my chest, and I’m in complete and utter shock. That may just be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

I fall into my seat, visibly shaken.

“Oh my God,” Aaron whispers.

Molly slides her seat over to me. “Holy shit, what happened?”

“I have no idea,” I murmur as my eyes go to the ceiling. Where are the cameras?

I think back to what angle I saw on his screen, and I look in that direction and see it. A small black glass dome. I glare at it, and I know he’s watching me.

I can feel his eyes on my skin. What’s he thinking about as he watches me?

An unwelcome wave of excitement rushes through me as I imagine him up there, hard and watching me.

I feel like taking off my clothes and lying back on my desk and opening my legs to give him something to really look at. Can he hear what we’re saying? Is there audio on that thing?

“What happened?” Aaron whispers.

“I can’t talk now. There are cameras,” I murmur with my head down. “But we need to have some seriously strong drinks after work.”

“Jesus,” Molly whispers as she turns back to her computer.

“Stupid fucking Ricardo,” Ava huffs. “He’s going to get us all fired. Why didn’t he get hauled into the damn office?”

“I know.” I open my email and stare at it for a moment as I try to calm myself down.

I know exactly why. Because Jameson Miles doesn’t want to fuck Ricardo—he wants to fuck me.

I bite my bottom lip to keep my slutty smile from escaping onto my face.

New York is so fun.

It’s five thirty, and we’ve just left work and are standing on the curb outside the Miles Media building while we decide where to go for dinner. It’s the weirdest thing; it’s as if along with this job, I was gifted three friends and unlimited options. Every night is Saturday night in New York.