Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Yeah, GoodTime Gary gave a go at murder by numbers in our quarterly marketing meeting. If Kline hadn’t cut it short, I think I would’ve staged a riot.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to tell ya, cupcake, but inside there isn’t any better. Ivanna Swallow is on her selfie break and she has blowregard for anyone but the spoon she’s currently sucking yogurt off of for Instagram’s sake.”

  I groaned.

  “Head down, don’t make eye contact, and you should be fine.” He grinned, slapping my ass as he walked past me and down the hall.

  Leslie was sitting at one of the break room tables, doing exactly what Dean said she was doing—taking a selfie of a spoon in her mouth. She could probably describe her life in a series of hashtags.

  Hashtag, my spoon is so sexy.

  Hashtag, my lips bring all the boys to the yard.

  Hashtag, my life’s goal is to be a walking bonertime.

  “Hey, Leslie,” I tossed over my shoulder as I headed for the most important thing in the room. The fridge.

  “O-M-G. You’re, like, never going to believe how adorable people are.”

  My phone buzzed in my hand. Thinking it might be Kline begging for a rescue, I let my heart overpower my stomach and paused to look. No message from Kline, but the TapNext icon was aglow with a message from Ruck. He’d been messaging me in a steady stream ever since Monday night, and I had to admit, he never failed to amuse me.

  BAD_Ruck (3:11PM): Lizards or Birds?

  Lizards or fucking birds? Jesus.

  The sadistic bastard had talked me into this little game by starting it with normal choices. Pillows or blankets, candy or pizza—he’d been getting a real kick out of asking me which thing I’d rather have in bed with me. You can only have one, he’d say. With this kind of choice, the decision was a struggle for a different reason.

  TAPRoseNEXT (3:11PM): Neither, you lunatic.

  My stomach growled, reminding me that I didn’t have time for Ruck and his random get-to-know-you choices right now.

  Opening the fridge, I started searching for my snack-time loot. I didn’t respond to Leslie, knowing full well she’d just prattle on. If Gary was the prime example of not understanding social cues, Leslie was the girl who didn’t care about those cues. In her hashtag and selfie-driven mind, everyone wanted to know what she had to say.

  For fuck’s sake, where is my food?

  “Seriously,” she called, completely oblivious that I’d left a two-minute pause for a reason. “People are, like, so cute. I just ate a turkey sandwich named Gary, and now I’m eating a yogurt named Georgia.”

  I stopped mid-rummage and slowly stood, glowering at Leslie over the fridge door.

  Her answering grin told me that my eyes weren’t actually shooting out death rays.

  “How cute is that?” She held up the half-eaten cup of yogurt. My half-eaten cup of yogurt.

  “People are naming the food in the break room. I just can’t even. It’s totes adorbs.” She went back to wrapping her crazy-huge lips around the spoon that was feeding her my fucking yogurt.

  It had to be severely unhealthy to want to kill two of your coworkers in the same day.

  I took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head.

  One-Don’t-Kill-Leslie

  Two-Don’t-Kill-Leslie

  Three-Don’t-Kill-Leslie…

  By the time I reached ten, my hands felt less stabby.

  “Hey, Leslie?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Uh-huh?” she responded, mouth full of yogurt.

  “So, that turkey sandwich named Gary was actually just Gary’s turkey sandwich. He wrote his name on it so no one else would eat it.”

  She cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. “But what about the yogurt named Georgia?”

  I fought the urge to shout, inhaling and exhaling another cleansing breath. “The yogurt wasn’t named Georgia. I wrote my name on that yogurt because I brought it in. It’s my yogurt and I planned on eating it today.”

  She stared back at me, her pea-sized brain visibly processing my words.

  The wheels were turning; slowly but surely, they were turning.

  “Ohhh, my bad.” She held out the half-eaten yogurt container. “Here, you can have the rest of it. I’m already so full from eating that turkey sandwich and piece of cherry cheesecake.”

  Wait a minute…

  Piece of cherry cheesecake?

  I glared the fuck out of the food-snatching idiot for a good minute before turning for the door.

  “So, like, I’m just going to eat the rest of it, okay, Georgia?” was the last thing I heard as I stormed out of the break room and straight for Kline’s office. Since he had hired her, I figured it would be a nice gesture to let him know housekeeping was going to need to branch out into crime scene remediation.

  His door bounced off the wall with a bang. Kline raised an eyebrow, his expression confused yet curious behind the large mahogany desk. “Everything okay?”

  “Nope.” The door slammed shut, courtesy of my stiletto-adorned foot. “Everything is not fucking okay.”

  I strode around his desk and planted my ass on the edge, forcing him to push his chair back to allow room for me and all of my bristling glory.

  “I need housekeeping’s number. They’re going to need to bring a body bag tonight. Figured it’d be nice to give them a heads-up.”

  “A body bag?”

  I nodded. “For Leslie.”

  He crinkled his forehead, but I guess apprehension did that to a person. “Come again?”

  “She’s fine,” I reassured. “Well, right now. She won’t be fine later.”

  He tilted his head. “What’s happening later?”

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  “Any particular reason you’re plotting her murder?”

  “She’s eating everyone’s food, including mine! She ate my cheesecake and my goddamn yogurt!” I gestured wildly, flinging my hands into the air. “Do you know why she’s doing this?”

  Kline shook his head. The hint of a smile kissed the corners of his lips.

  I pointed my finger at him. “Don’t even think about smiling right now.”

  He held up both hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m taking this very seriously.” He forced his mouth to the side, trying to hide another smirk, and his voice turned almost offensively diplomatic. “Why is Leslie eating everyone’s food?”

  “She thought people were being totes adorbs and naming the food.”

  Blue eyes lit up with amusement. “Leslie didn’t realize the names on food meant it belonged to someone?”

  “Today, she enjoyed a turkey sandwich named Gary. And a yogurt and piece of motherfucking cheesecake named Georgia. She thought it was like, the cutest thing ever how her coworkers were naming food. She’s too dumb to live. Literally.”

  I saw the second he couldn’t hold back laughter. A grin had cracked the secret code and covered his entire face—his eyes, lips, and cheeks were all lit up with hilarity.

  Like a boiling pot, it worked its way up his throat and spilled right over, coating me with its vibration. If I hadn’t been so pissed, I might have acknowledged its ability to turn me on.

  “This isn’t funny! Your intern is a dumbass! All she does is take selfies and eat my food! Why haven’t you fired her?”

  “Baby,” he cooed condescendingly. “She’s just an intern. How picky can I be? She’s not costing the company anything.”

  “Not costing anything!” I very nearly shrieked. “She just cost me my goddamn cheesecake!”

  Kline shook his head with a smile and started to turn his leather chair in the other direction, away from my glaring eyes, but I was too quick, damn near jumping on top of him. “Don’t even think about it!”

  His strong hands gripped my hips and finished the job.

  In an instant, his laughter was gone, a look of pure, unadulterated longing taking its place. For two days, we’d practically crawled all the way inside each other,
we’d had so much physical contact, but it’d been a long time since then.

  For a few moments, all we did was stare at each other. I was straddling Kline’s lap, his muscular thighs forcing my legs to spread that perfect amount. Only a few measly inches kept me from finding out if he was as turned on as I was. And judging by the look on his face, if I pressed my hips to his, I’d hit the cock landmine.

  “Dessert named Georgia?” He caressed the sliver of skin that was exposed above the waistline of my skirt. His lips were near my ear. “I’m certain this is something I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from devouring.”

  Oh, my…

  His hands disappeared under my flowy skirt and gripped my ass, pulling at the cheeks to open me farther to him. Only a minuscule piece of lace was separating his fingers from touching my bare skin. Kline’s hips ground into mine, and I had to swallow the moan threatening to spill from my lips. He wanted this as much as I did. The evidence was hard and ready between my thighs.

  My breathing turned ragged, heart pounding inside my chest.

  I loved seeing this side of him. The all-business, Armani-suited CEO getting messy and wild, with me. His reserved side morphing into a man possessed by passion and desire. I felt possessive, wanting to be the only woman who could affect him this way.

  I should’ve been freaked out over the idea that someone could walk into his office and find us in this precarious position, but all I could think about was wanting him to push himself against me, harder, rougher. Good God, I wanted more. So much more.

  His lips moved from my ear to my jaw to the sensitive, toe-curling spot on my neck. His teeth just barely scraped at the pulsing vein, and a shiver rolled down my spine. If he kept this up, I’d end up doing something I shouldn’t. Like unzip his pants and offer up my V-card as tribute.

  Get it together, Georgia.

  “Kline?”

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered against my skin. “I won’t let this get out of hand.”

  But he didn’t disentangle us. No. He did the complete opposite.

  He kissed me hard, delving deep enough to brand me, while our tongues tangled in an inferno of want and need and crazy desire.

  Sliding a hand up my blouse and underneath my bra, Kline brushed his thumb across my nipple.

  I moaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, still cupping my breast.

  I sucked at his tongue as my hips circled his, savoring the feel of his cock pressed against my pussy. Even though we were both fully clothed, I could practically feel every inch of him. And hot damn, there were a lot of inches.

  He pulsed upward and my pussy clenched in empty agony.

  “Oh, yes, yes, Kline, yes,” I whispered, my head falling back.

  Our ragged, wanton breaths were the only sounds filling the four walls of his office.

  “You’re driving me wild.” His hand covered mine, moving it down to cup him through his slacks. “I want you so fucking bad.”

  Self-control was nowhere in sight as I went for his belt, fingers sliding against the cold metal of his buckle. The only thing that mattered was touching him. More of him. All of him. I wanted Kline hard and ready and bared in my needy hands.

  “Mr. Brooks, your four o’clock is here. Should I send him back?” Pam’s voice echoed from the intercom.

  We froze, startled by the interruption.

  “Christ,” Kline muttered, his eyes clenched and forehead pressing against mine.

  My cheeks turned a terrifying shade of red once realization set in. “I-I should probably leave,” I stuttered, attempting to un-plaster myself from him.

  “Hold on.” He gripped my hips, stopping my momentum. He leaned forward, one finger pressing the intercom to respond. “Just give me a minute, Pam. I’m just finishing up signing some contracts for Georgia.”

  I was thankful he still had enough brainpower to think of an excuse for me to be in here. Telling Pam that he needed a minute to remove his Director of Marketing from his dick wasn’t the best scenario for either of us.

  “Hey,” he whispered, cupping my cheeks. “Don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaking out.”

  “Are you sure?” He smirked. “Because that deer-in-headlights look you’ve got going on says otherwise.”

  I glared. “That’s not the look I’m giving you.”

  He mimicked my wide-eyed stare before his face morphed into a teasing grin.

  “Excuse me for being a little freaked out that someone could have walked in and found us going at each other like a couple of horny teenagers. Speaking of which, you should probably let me up.”

  He massaged my ass. “Only if you promise to let me finish dessert later.”

  Dear God, what was he trying to do to me?

  I couldn’t hide my smile. “You’re trouble. Big fat fucking trouble.” I shoved at his chest and proceeded to remove myself from his lap. Straightening my clothes, I glanced down at his disheveled attire. “And you look ridiculous. Like some woman was in here mauling you with red lipstick.” My crimson lips were branded across his face and neck.

  It was absurd, but mostly just fuck-hot.

  He stood, flashing that sexy smirk of his while I removed my lipstick smudges with my fingers. I adjusted his tie and patted him on the chest. “Don’t work too hard, Mr. Brooks.”

  As I turned for the door, he spanked my ass, earning a small squeal of approval from my traitorous lips.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll save up my energy for later, Ms. Cummings.”

  Outrageously sexy bastard. I was certain he’d be the death of me.

  “Wait.” He grabbed me before I could take another step, pulling me toward him, my back against his chest. His breath was warm on my neck. “I’m not letting you out of this office until you agree to another date. A weekend date.”

  “Like a whole weekend?”

  “In the Hamptons, with me.”

  “You have a place in the Hamptons?” I asked, then realized what a stupid question that was. Kline wasn’t a flashy kind of man, but he had made more money from one business deal than most people make in a lifetime. Hell, he could quit working today and would be set for the rest of his life.

  “Yeah, baby.” He kissed my neck, teasing the sensitive skin with his lips. “So, you’ll go?”

  I turned in his arms, gazing up at him. He was business Kline laced with a little messy wildness from our earlier tryst behind his desk. The adorable grin cresting his mouth had me smiling in return. “What do I get out of it?” I teased.

  His grin grew wider. “You want terms and conditions for a weekend getaway I’m asking you to join me on?”

  I nodded. “Sounds about right.”

  “You’re like a little shark when it comes to business.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, chuckling against my skin. “I’ll make sure you have a good time. So good you’ll be doing a reenactment of my bedroom…and the pool. Who knows, maybe it’ll be like both combined.”

  “Draft the contract, Brooks, but remember, I’m holding you to these terms.”

  “Wonderful doing business with you, Cummings.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kline

  When the GPS told me I was two blocks away from Georgia’s apartment on Friday night, I pulled over and put the car in park. My phone had just buzzed in the cupholder with a message, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to answer it once I picked her up. Ignoring the blinding red light on my mail icon, I swung my thumb directly over it before landing on the TapNext app.

  TAPRoseNEXT (7:04PM): HE’S GOING TO BE HERE ANY MINUTE, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE. CALM ME DOWN BEFORE HE TAKES ONE LOOK AT ME AND RUNS IN THE OTHER DIRECTION.

  A smile overwhelmed me as my chuckles bounced around the echoey interior of an otherwise empty car. She was so fucking cute, I could hardly stand it.

  BAD_Ruck (7:06PM): Calm down, sweetheart. Let’s start slowly by eliminating the shouty capitals.

  TAPRoseNEXT (7:07PM): FUCKING F
UCK FUCKERS. Okay. FUCK. Okay, I think I’m good now. Move on to step 2 (the coddling).

  I bit my lip and shook my head, smiling like a crazy person.

  BAD_Ruck (7:08PM): Good job. Also, creative swearing.

  TAPRoseNEXT (7:08PM): The calm is wearing off, Ruck.

  BAD_Ruck (7:09PM): Okay, okay. Coddling. Got it. This guy is still talking to you after spending all that time with you last weekend and invited you on a weekend away, right? He sounds smart enough to appreciate a little nervous energy. Everything is going to be fine.

  Okay, guys. I know. I can feel you judging me. But let’s talk this over.

  I knew not telling her that I knew she was Rose, and that I was Ruck, was bad form.

  I did, really.

  It’d been a few days since I found out, and I should have told her immediately.

  But God, as twisted as it was, I was having too much fun. Georgia was different with me online, no pretense or fear of saying something to her boss that he couldn’t unhear, the safety net of anonymity weaving the protective web that it did for a lot of people.

  As easy as it was to be someone else online, it was equally easy to be yourself, no expectations or trepidation blinding the true artwork underneath. Knowing Georgia in both places, without her knowing that I knew, was one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. She was the same yet different—honest and open and unafraid of recrimination. She wasn’t afraid to send me messages about freaking the fuck out. She was just her, and I liked getting to be on the receiving end of twice the interaction. She was still scared to wear out her welcome with Kline Brooks. I couldn’t fucking welcome her enough. This gave us the best of both worlds.

  I even found myself sending her more goddamn messages as Ruck, just to be able to enjoy what she might say. I pushed the envelope, trying to get her even more comfortable with me, even knowing that, in her mind, she was splitting her affection between two men.

  It was fucked, but I knew if she could forgive me, her actions wouldn’t be an issue in the slightest. Love, lust, and attraction were base instincts. They were simple and finite and somehow still infinitely complicated. She liked Ruck because he was another dimension of me.