Hot CEO: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Charlize Starr

  Which is why I decide it’s time to ask Jacob about his love life.

  I’ve realized I actually have no idea what his story is, romance-wise. I assume, given that he has hours a day to talk to me, he’s not seeing anyone else, but I don’t actually know for sure. The last thing I want to do is keep falling for a man who is involved with someone else.

  My phone rings just after I’ve eaten and I smile, seeing that it’s Jacob. I settle myself down in my armchair before answering.

  “Hello there, you,” I say.

  “Hi, Mia,” he says. His voice sounds extra gruff today. Gruff and sexy.

  “I’m glad you called,” I say.

  Jacob laughs. “I always call,” he says.

  “Not true,” I say, “sometimes I call you.”

  “You do,” Jacob agrees, laughing again.

  “But I’m extra glad you called tonight,” I say, pushing on.

  “Why’s that?” Jacob asks. I can hear him moving around, like maybe he’s heading to settle in a chair himself.

  “Because I’ve got a very important question I need to ask you,” I say.

  “About whiskey? Or maybe chocolate?” Jacob says, his voice clearly teasing.

  “About you,” I say, grinning through a few nerves.

  “What about me?” Jacob asks, sounding a little guarded even as he laughs.

  “You in that cabin of yours,” I ask, “what do you possibly do to occupy yourself all day if you’re alone?”

  “All alone,” Jacob confirms.

  “Always? Never anyone special up there with you?” I ask, deciding just to go for broke. “Like a woman?”

  “Oh,” Jacob says like I’ve caught him off guard. “No, no. There’s no one up here but me.”

  “No?” I ask, very glad to hear it.

  “Not in a very long time,” Jacob says softly, like a confession.

  “Are you looking for someone?” I ask, whispering a little myself, every word suddenly feeling very important.

  “I think,” Jacob pauses again. “No, because I think I might have found someone.”

  “Really?” I ask. I can feel my pulse racing, certain he means me. Surely this means he feels the same as I’m feeling.

  “Someone pretty incredible, actually,” Jacob says, and the sincerity in his voice makes me feel a little weak in the knees.

  “Someone you think about often?” I ask, pulse racing.

  “All the time, in fact,” Jacob says.

  “What do you think about… when you think about her?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  “I think about a lot of things,” Jacob says, sounding a little confused.

  “Do you ever…” I start, an idea coming to me. I want to know what Jacob thinks of me, how he does. If he’s thought about me at night, lying awake… Maybe thought about be being there in bed with him. It’s a nice picture to consider.

  “Do I ever?” Jacob prompts.

  “Do you just think about taking her out? Is it all flowers and romance? Or do you ever think about other things you could do?” I ask, biting my lip.

  “Oh,’ Jacob says slowly, like he knows what I mean. “I have, yes. I’ve thought about a lot of things we could do together. But only if she wanted, of course.”

  “She does,” I blurt instantly, embarrassed at myself for my enthusiasm.

  “Does she?” Jacob asks with what I think is a hint of a smile – a low, sexy one. “So, does she think about me, too?”

  “She has,” I admit.

  “Good,” Jacob says. “So, if I were to, say, put a hand behind her neck and kiss her, would that be a good idea?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, sounding a little breathless at the thought. “She – ” I start, then shake my head. “I mean, I would kiss you back and grab onto the front of your shirt to pull you in for more.”

  “And if I ran my hand down from your neck, over your back, so I could slide my hand up your shirt.” He pauses like he’s deciding if this is a good idea before he adds, “or maybe down to your ass.”

  “That would be, um,” I say, shifting in my chair a little, feeling my face flush. “I’d like that. I could reach for the buttons on your shirt, start to undo them one by one while we kissed.”

  “I could press you against me, and while your hands were working on my shirt, I could reach up yours again and unhook your bra,” Jacob says. His words have gone all dark and heavy, gaining more confidence, making me feel like my skin is burning in the best way.

  “Good, that’s good. And I could pull your shirt off your shoulders, and run my hands over your chest and feel all your muscles,” I say, my words sound breathy to my own ears, and I can feel myself getting wet from the thought of touching him like that.

  “I would slide your bra out of the way so I could touch your breasts and cup them in my hands,” he says, sounding out of breath himself.

  “Please,” I tell him. “God, I would want you to touch me more, would move my hands so you could get my bra and shirt all the way off.”

  “Good,” Jacob says. “Then I would touch your nipples with my thumb, tease them as I kissed my way down your neck.” He sounds so turned on himself, I imagine he has to be rock hard already. I shudder at the thought, almost whimpering.

  “I would trail my hand down toward your pants – button and zipper and all – to see if I could feel how hard you already were,” I say. I hear Jacob bite back a groan at that, and I slide my own hand, on my own chair, up onto my stomach where my skin feels warm to the touch. “Are you?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” Jacob says, “and I would be so fucking hard if you were touching me like that. If I had my mouth on your breasts. I’ll bet you make the most amazing sounds when someone does that.” I whimper at that and swallow. Hard. I trail my hand into my pajama bottoms, desperately needing to touch myself.

  “I wouldn’t want you to stop, but I’d need more so badly. I’d be unbuttoning your pants, needing you.” I say. I’m soaking wet when I reach inside my own underwear.

  “I would reach--” Jacob pauses and laughs a little, although it’s much deeper than normal. “Wait, what are you wearing?”

  “Make it a skirt. That’s sexier,” I say, huffing out a laugh of my own as I drag my fingers on my clit.

  “Works for me,” Jacob says, laughing again and getting back to the story. “Then I’d slide my hands up your skirt and push your underwear to one side so I could see how wet you are for me.”

  “Soaked,” I say, gasping a little as I pick up the tempo of my fingers. “Soaked as you touch me. I undo your pants and pull them down so I can see you.”

  “I could slide my fingers around, feel how wet you are. Find your clit, watch your face as I touched you right there.” Jacob pauses, his voice so dark and rough its almost sending me over the edge. “As I touched you the way I think you’re touching yourself right now?”

  “I am,” I say. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” Jacob says, and I gasp again, thinking of it, of him holding the phone in one hand to talk to me while he strokes himself like that.

  “Shit,” I say, feeling a little breathless.

  “Let me hear it,” Jacob says, all low, like a command. “As you touch yourself, when you make yourself come, don’t hold back. I want to hear it, okay?”

  I moan. “I can do that,” I say, a bit impatient. “But what’s next? You were touching me like I’m touching myself right now. Keep going.”

  Jacob laughs again, low and rattling, and I close my eyes and imagine it as he continues. “I could touch you until you were crying out, slide my fingers inside you, and your hips would buck against mine, and – ”

  “And I’d beg you to fuck me,” I gasp. “I’d have my hand all over your cock, and I’d need it inside me.”

  “So I’d _” Jacob starts, then stops, letting out a groan of his own like he’s as turned on as I am. Like he’s about to come himself. “I’d pull your underwear down and step all the way out of my pants. And I’d pick you up and set
you _”

  “Against the wall. Hold me up against the wall,” I request, interrupting him again. I’m being rather bossy about this, but the sound he makes in response says he doesn’t mind at all.

  “Put you against the wall and pull your skirt around your waist so I could slide inside you,” Jacob says.

  I moan again, more high-pitched. I’m so close to coming, so I pick up my own pace again. I slide two fingers inside myself, thrusting them back and forth as I run circles on my clit. I imagine him holding me against a wall, fucking me right there. I imagine him he as he is right now, his hand on his own cock, and the combined images are the hottest thing I’ve ever thought.

  “I’d wrap my legs around you, pull you in closer so you could fuck me hard and fast,” I say, gasping. “Jacob, I’m so close.”

  “Me too,” Jacob says, groaning again. “God, Mia. I would – I would fuck you so hard, one hand holding you up and the other touching your nipples again, and then maybe your clit so – ”

  “Fuck. Oh, god, oh,” I say, interrupting him as I come, crying out and yelling, words turning into sounds and syllables as I come around my own fingers.

  “Fuck,” Jacob says as I’m coming, letting out a long breath and a gasp that I know means he’s there on his end, too.

  We don’t talk for a minute as we both breathe through our orgasms, but just the sound of his breathing on the other end makes me feel even better. I take it as a good sign that nothing feels awkward just being here on the other end of the line with him after like this.

  This is not exactly what I had in mind when I asked him about his feelings for me, but truth be told, I’m not complaining about it.

  Chapter Ten - Jacob

  I can’t get Mia off my mind. I keep seeing her, keep picturing doing the things we’d talked about over the phone. I want so badly to actually be able to touch her. To really know how her skin feels. To feel her breath against me when she makes those sounds she was making last night. To watch her flush and squirm.

  I hate that I can’t. I hate that it’s not safe. I hate the idea of giving her up. To finally meet a woman as incredible as Mia and not be able to do anything real about it feels like torture. I want to be where she is. I want her here with me. I haven’t been serious about a woman in a long time and now seems like the worst possible time for it to be happening again.

  The last time had ended because of Calvin, a pattern I should have seen even back then. Even when we were teenagers, Calvin would slide up to girls I brought home and tell them they’d picked the boring brother. He was a high school freshman whispering in senior girls’ ears, and most of them had laughed and blushed like he was charming, like maybe they agreed that he was the more fun one out of the two of us.

  In college, I’d met Fiona, and we’d been in love. I’d brought her home for family dinners and holidays, and I’d gone hunting with her dad and helped her babysit her cousins. We’d moved in together right after college, and I’d honestly thought I was going to marry her. She was as smart as she was beautiful. She could speak three languages and read books in five, and she loved playing the piano and going to the symphony. She was serious, passionate, and ambitious. She’d started a graduate program, working on getting her master’s in business while I started working for my father. Everyone said we were perfect together.

  I’d come home one day and found her in bed with Calvin. She was so, so sorry. He didn’t pretend to be. It had been going on for months. For months I’d been thinking of proposing while helping her study and taking care of all the bills. For months she’d been leading me on and sleeping with Calvin behind my back.

  I couldn’t figure it out. He was in his second year of college, barely passing, major still undeclared. He was drinking every night, already needing dad to bail him out of trouble more than once. He’d get kicked out of his fraternity only a few weeks after rushing for breaking school property as part of a drunken prank, and somehow, in spite of all of that, she’d still been attracted to him. I didn’t know how it was possible Fiona could have been interested in both of us, as different as we were, and it made me question if she’d ever really loved me in the first place. It made me question if she was more into me or the money she’d inherit from marrying me.

  I don’t think Calvin ever called her again after we broke up. I heard from mutual friends she was devastated, but I couldn’t bring myself to care all that much. I thought about reaching out to her a few times over the years, but I knew I’d never been able to look at her the same way.

  The last thing I want is for Calvin to ruin my relationship with Mia. He’s not even here, and yet the shadow of him is still hanging over everything. I want this to work, somehow, in spite of Calvin and everything about this whole situation. I want Mia, and I want her all to myself for once.

  I call her early, even though I know she might still be at work. She answers right away.

  “Hello there, handsome,” she says. “Couldn’t wait until later to talk to me?”

  “Maybe not,” I say, grinning. One of the best things about Mia, I think, is how bold and flirtatious she is, how direct and honest. I’ve had enough secrets and lies and resentment in my life. It’s refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t hold anything back.

  “Good,” she says, “because I’ve been thinking a lot about last night.”

  “Me too,” I admit. That little sound she’d made while she was touching herself playing in my head again and making me shift in my seat. “Are you at home?”

  “I just got home,” Mia says. “Martin actually sent me home early. I’ve already worked way over my scheduled time this week.”

  “You’re quite dedicated,” I say.

  “I can be,” she says, laughing.

  We settle into a comfortable conversation, maybe a little less intense than last night, but still great. She tells me a story about a dog she’d had growing up, and I talk about the dog I had right after college – the one I’d gotten after Fiona left so I wasn’t all alone in the apartment. I don’t mention the Fiona part or the Calvin part, but I tell her to rest. We talk until she falls asleep over the phone and I can hear the soft sound of her breathing, making me wish she was here next to me so I could wrap a blanket around her and hold her while she slept. I hope that’s something I can figure out a way to make real, and soon.

  Chapter Eleven - Mia

  I can’t get Jacob’s voice out of my head. He’d sounded so passionate, so commanding over the phone, telling me all the things he’d want to do if he had his hands on me. It had somehow been one of the sexiest things I’d ever done, even though we hadn’t even been in the same room when it had happened. I keep replaying it in my head: the things had he said, the way his voice had sounded when he said them, the low growl of confidence in his voice that was so different from his usual awkward charm.

  Ever since Jacob and I cleared up our initial misunderstanding, all of our conversations have been flirtatious and fun and just the right amount of romantic. He seems to be having fun too, enjoying this just as much as I am… which is why I can’t figure out why he doesn’t want it to move any farther. I’ve suggested we meet up, but he always changes the subject. I’d certainly think that after the other night he’d be eager to see me, but he won’t plan for it.

  I can’t figure out why. All sorts of ideas have danced around in my head about it – everything from he’s lying and really is secretly married to he has some sort of physical deformity and he doesn’t want me to see under his clothes. Maybe he’s a conman, on the run from the law. Maybe he’s worried I’m an undercover cop, ready to bust him. Maybe he’s got an embarrassing secret, like that behind his rugged mountain-man exterior, he’s actually a virgin.

  Maybe that’s it, I tell myself to get my mind off the other thoughts. Maybe he’s too shy to tell me this is the most he’s ever done with a woman, that he’s spent so much time alone in his cabin up on the mountain, chopping firewood and making whiskey, because he’s afraid he won’t have
the right romantic touch when the right girl comes along. Maybe I’m corrupting him. I actually don’t mind the sound of that – of bringing a reclusive man out of the shadows and teaching him about love. It sounds so exciting, like something out of one of those romance novels my mom used to read, that I stick with it as my theory, even though I don’t actually think it’s true.

  I don’t actually think any of them are very likely, but it must be something. I worry, when I’m not imagining scenarios where Jacob is an outlaw, that it’s not him at all. That’s it’s me. That he’s somehow embarrassed by me, or just not that attracted to me beyond considering me something to pass the time up in his cabin. He doesn’t act like that’s the case, but I suppose I can’t rule it out.

  I frown, spraying down the glass counters at work while I try to figure out both Jacob and where this relationship is going. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, surprised to see I’ve missed a call from Jacob. I hit play on the voicemail and –

  And I immediately flush red, glad there are no customers in the store.

  “I keep thinking about those sounds you made when you came for me. I can’t wait to hear them again. Maybe this time you could make them under my tongue. I could lick you until you came over and over until you were shaking for me.”

  I put Jenny, one of our high school part-timers, in charge for a minute, telling her I need to step out back to make a personal call and listen to Jacob’s voicemail again, hardly believing he’d left me such a filthy message while knowing I was at work. I call him back, whispering even though I’m alone out behind the shop.

  “Jacob,” I say, a little breathless.

  “So, you got my message, then?” Jacob asks, sounding absurdly pleased with himself. “I thought it might make your afternoon more exciting.”

  “I’m at work!” I say, but I’m pleased and more than a little turned on by it all. By the message and by Jacob taking time out of his day for me, wanting to say those things to me.