Releases 7.25.19 Buy here: books2read.com/Rule-Breaker

There’s the hustle and bustle of the workday, and then there’s that point where most everyone goes home but my light is still on. I always imagine someone standing on Sixth Avenue looking up at the Warbey building and thinking, “Well, Athena’s light is on. I swear that woman never goes home.”

“Her poor husband,” someone else says.

“He’s retired now, you know.”

“I know, and he’s all cooped up in the apartment by himself.”

“Hey, he has a dog!” I want to shout back to my judgy imaginary bystanders.

Sanity is obviously slipping away by the time I start playing conversations with fictional characters in my head. This must be what writers feel like all the time. No thanks.

Apparently there’s another soul alive and well at Warbey’s Home Living because a knock on my door saves me from further ruminations. “Hey, Athena?” Ramsey pokes his dark head between the door frame and my door, which is ajar.

My body is immediately flooded with chemicals. Well, fuck, I was not expecting that. I take a deep breath, trying to suppress their effects. “Come on in.”

He slides into the office still looking rather dapper in navy trousers and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie is slightly loosened, but otherwise, he doesn’t look like he just worked ten hours—unlike the wreck I’ve become in the hours that have passed since five PM.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks.

Oh, god, is he asking me out? That’s right…he still thinks I’m divorced.With the whole porn star thing, I kinda forgot about my own situation.

“Right, dinner…” I hold up my coffee mug, which has been filled and drained multiple times throughout the course of the day. “I guess I’m on a liquid diet.”

He eyes me up and down before saying, “You definitely don’t need a diet…”

Oh. I straighten in my chair.

“I’m sorry, there I go being inappropriate again, it’s just that—” He scrubs his hand through the perfect scruff outlining his square-cut jaw.

“It’s just what?” I lean forward. I definitely want to see where he’s going to go with this.

“I’m a bit impulsive,” he admits. “I think it’s because I have good instincts, and sometimes I just follow them. I read something, get a hunch, then I go for it. And I’m usually right.”

Yes, there’s that cocky attitude. I knew it must be waiting in the wings, just waiting to come out and enjoy its moment of glory. “So, what is it you have a hunch about?”

While I’m speaking, he stands up and closes my door before moving toward me. I swear with every step he takes, my heart begins to pound faster and harder, so fast and so hard I’m afraid it’s going to burst right out of my chest.

It’s 7 PM, and everyone is gone for the day. The night cleaning shift doesn’t start until ten, so I am almost 100% certain that whatever happens right now is not going to be interrupted.

But the rules, Athena, the little angel primly says from her perch on my right shoulder.

Fuck the rules, the devil on the left side spews out. If anything goes south, you’ve got dirt on him. How would Rebecca Warbey Meyers or Jackson Beck feel about having a porn star on their magazine staff?

I roll myself away from my desk when he slides his ass across the flat surface, moving my keyboard out of the way. He leans against my desk, looking down at me in my chair like he’s going to eat me alive.

“I have a hunch about us, Athena,” he reveals.

I uncross my legs briefly before crossing them in the other direction, buying myself some time to react. “Us? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your type.” He trails his eyes up and down my body. He has the kind of penetrating stare that would almost make you believe he has x-ray vision. And he apparently likes what he sees! “I’ve always been drawn to your type.”

“Is that so?” I lean forward, placing my hands in my lap and giving him a nice view of my ample cleavage. “And what is my type, Mr. Pearce? Do tell.” I rub my hands together. He’s the demographic expert. Let’s see how good he is at his job.

He scoots back on my desk, far enough he almost hits my monitor. If he fucks up my computer, I’ll kill him. That would be fun to explain to the IT people, but who am I to complain? I’m enjoying this show immensely. If I had known what a rush I’d get from flirting with another man, I would have let Warren talk me into this a long time ago!

I just don’t understand why it has to be this man standing in my office? Surely there are a zillion other more suitable candidates out there.

“Let’s see…” He rubs his thumb and forefinger across his stubble-lined chin as he studies my face. “You sacrificed your marriage for your career. Your kids are out of the house; you’re divorced. And you haven’t gotten laid in about three years. You keep a vibrator by your bed because you need at least one orgasm a day to keep up your fierce executive persona, but in reality, three orgasms are ideal. It’s your favorite way to relieve stress.”

I fight with every fiber of my being to keep my jaw from dropping open. I mean, he’s totally off-base on the divorced part, but the latter accusations are spot on. I swallow hard, still trying to maintain my aloof demeanor. “And what exactly is it you’re proposing?”

“I like orgasms too.” The smirk on his face looks like something he borrowed from the devil and isn’t planning to return.

I scoff. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”

Now his smirk is a grin, which is wide enough to show his perfectly white teeth. “Nerve, balls…what’s the difference? At least I’m not all talk and no action, right?” He presses his green gaze into me again. “Because a woman like you hates that, don’t you, Ms. Lennox?”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. His hands are on me in a flash, pulling me closer to his body. “Do you want me to stop?” he growls in my ear. “Because just say the word, say I’m wrong, and I will get out of your office right now.”

I pull back to see the lust burning in his eyes before taking his exquisitely chiseled face in my hands and pressing my lips against his. It’s mere seconds before our tongues are doing the tango and his hands are under my shirt, exploring the curve of my breast beneath my lacy bra and making my nipples so hard and wanton I might explode if he doesn’t touch them soon. My hands weave through his hair, down his back, feeling the muscles rippling beneath the thin cotton fabric of his dress shirt, yearning to scope out what those beautiful mounds of flesh look like underneath.

My husband gave me the green light. He saw the way my eyes danced when I watched Ramsey on screen fucking the young blonde hotwife with the tight body and tiny perky boobs. I kept wondering the whole time I watched if it was possible that older, voluptuous Greek ladies could possibly be his type. He seemed so into the actress as he devoured her body; the passion in his eyes was so easily conveyed on camera.

But judging by how he’s attacking my body with just as much enthusiasm, I’d venture he’s every bit as interested in me as he was in that lovely lithe-bodied vixen. Maybe even more so. After all, he’s not getting paid to ravish me…

Well, not technically.

Fuck, I guess I am a rule breaker, after all.

Want to read more? Releases 7.25.19 Buy here: books2read.com/Rule-Breaker