Those Boys Are Trouble - Willow Winters Page 0,1

thick, dark lashes at the gorgeous man looking down at me. The lines around his eyes mean he’s every bit the man he looks, but his devilish white-toothed grin gives him a boyish charm meant to fool women like me. He’s fucking hot in a black three-piece suit that’s obviously been tailored to fit his large chiseled frame perfectly. With that crisp white button-down shirt and simple black tie you’d think he was a young CEO, but his muscular body, piercing blue eyes and messy dark hair that’s long enough to grab, make him a sex god. Lust and power radiate from his broad chest as his eyes travel down my body. He looks like a man who knows how to destroy you.

A wave of desire shoots through me when my eyes meet his heated stare. My breathing hitches, and I swallow down the distress I'm feeling at my treacherous body. I’ll just give him the money Rick owed him and get the fuck out of here. At the reminder of why I’m standing in his doorway, I push my purse toward him.

I grin at her obvious nervousness and cock a brow as I say, “Purses aren’t my style, doll.” Pulling the door open wider, I step aside just enough for her to get through. Her soft body gently brushes against mine as she walks through the small opening I gave her. The subtle touch sends a throbbing need to my dick and I feel it harden, pushing against my zipper. She hustles a little quicker when I lean closer to her. Her hips sway, and I stifle a groan when I see that dress clinging to her lush ass. Fuck, I want that ass. I never mix business with pleasure, but there’s an exception to every rule. Something about her just pulls me in. Something about the way she’s carrying herself. It's like she needs me, or maybe I need her. My dick jumps as she turns around to fully face me. Fuck, at least one part of me desperately wants her attention.

His body touching mine makes every nerve ending in my core ignite; I nervously squeeze the strap of my purse. I just want to get the hell out of here, but my stupid heart is longing for comfort. My trembling body is aching with need. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s only been three days; I should have more respect for Rick than this. I will the tears to go away. I just want to be held. But I know better. This man staring back at me isn’t a man who will hold me and console me. I take in a gasp of air and turn around to face the man my husband owed money to while digging in my purse to gather the bundles of cash.

“Is it all there?” I have no fucking clue who she is, or what she’s supposed to be giving me. Johnny has the list, but he’s not back yet with our lunch. It’s a rarity that I even have to speak during drops. I just like to watch. And when it comes to people not paying up, it’s best if I’m here for that.

“I’m sorry it’s late.” His rough fingers brush mine as I hold out the thick stacks of hundreds. His touch sends a shot of lust to my heated core and I close my eyes, denying the desperate need burning inside me. It would feel so good to let him take me the way a man should. I haven’t been touched in months. I haven’t felt desire in nearly a year, and I know for a fact I’ve never felt such a strong pull to a man before, never wanted to give myself to someone like I do him.

“What about the interest?” Her eyes widen with fear, and her breath stalls as her plump lips part. If it’s late, then she should know to pay that extra five percent per day. Compounded. Johnny should’ve told her all that shit. But judging by her silence and that scared look on her face, she doesn’t have a clue. A grin pulls at my lips, but I stifle it. I want her to think I’m mad. I want her to feel like she owes me. I don’t want her money though. She can pay me in a way I’ve never been paid before. I don’t accept ass as payment, but for her, fuck yeah I’ll take it.

The man on the