Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 23

However annoying she is, she's got curves for miles, a body made to rock and fucking roll.

Otherworldly tits, and I should know because I—

No. Fuck you and your monkey brain, man. We are not revisiting that night.

"This is an excellent neighborhood. I assure you no one goes creeping around here, peeping through windows, Miss Hopper," I say.

"It's not about that, though. You feel exposed here." She shivers and turns her back firmly on the window. "I don't like it, but maybe it's just me."

"You don't like it because it's mine." I immediately regret those words.

Something about dealing with this woman destroys every thread of professionalism I own. I'm sure it has everything to do with the fact that we've slept together.

"Anyway, look, it doesn't matter," I say, swiping my hand to regain composure. "If you're so desperate to strut around naked, we have a dozen other properties that would be a great fit for that. This house does solid revenue and we have no shortage of bookings."

A blush sweeps up her face.

"I mean, I don't—I don't want to walk around naked," she sputters. Her delay amuses me. She's adorably awkward.

I give her a tight smile.

"Then there's nothing else to discuss here, is there? You raise an interesting point about the nudity factor. I'll mention it in our next senior leadership meeting."

"Oh my God, no. We weren't discussing me walking around naked. That was just a silly joke." She hurries to catch up with me as I lead her outside and lock up before she can rip more of my ego to shreds. "Dude, wait. Are you really going to be weird about me not liking your baby? You're the one who made this personal."

Slowly, I turn and look at her, hating that I love the defiance in her eyes. "And you're the one who brought up parading around naked. What was

I supposed to think?" Anything except about her naked.

I wonder if her nipples still look the same, large and round and suckable.

Does she still moan like molten caramel when they're trapped between a man's teeth?

Fuck.

She looks like she can read my filthy thoughts.

But she shuts her mouth, and I think I hear her molars grinding. With the damage done, we head back to the SUV.

A tense silence hangs over us, as smothering as the ice-cold sleet that slicks the windshield.

"Look, Miss Hopper—Salem," I say as I pull away, desperately scraping my teeth over my tongue as I try to throw my imagination off teasing her nipples. "Why don't you choose the radio station before our next stop?"

She drops her hands into her lap and finally—thank the fucking universe—stops singing.

"You really want to talk about my résumé?" she asks blankly.

Anything but the singing, yes.

"I was curious about your experience before you came here, aside from the three years at the motel."

"Say what you really mean. The failed ventures, you mean." Her tone hardens, and she turns down the music as she gives me her full attention. Somehow, that makes it worse. "That's what really caught your eye, isn't it?"

Shit. No. Maybe? "I didn't mean—"

"Well, you're right. I have tried a lot of things and they haven't panned out," she whispers. "That's one of the reasons I went for this opportunity. So maybe I could learn enough to keep a real business alive."

I don't dare ask if she regrets it yet as much as I do.

"What inspired you to try entrepreneurship in the first place?" She muses for a second, tapping her finger against her pants.

She has neat, trim nails. Not manicured, but well tended. Dangerously appealing when they're attached to nimble fingers that feel too good wrapped around my cock.

"I wanted to carve my own path," she says finally. "Everyone I knew was going off to college and doing whatever other people wanted. But I've always wanted to be my own boss and forge my own path, I guess. I didn't want to put a limit on how much money I could make, trading away my time and effort for a salary."