Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [17]
He gave his head a slight shake, trying to clear the lust out, and turned away from her to grab some files.
The truth was, he wasn’t well-practiced at pushing down his desires. He was single, he liked to have fun, and he’d never seen any reason not to indulge in good, hot sex when he found the opportunity—which, in his world, was often. What he never understood was why such news made the damn papers. When had he become a celebrity? Why did anyone give a shit who he slept or partied with?
Whatever the reason, though, it seemed his social life did qualify as entertainment for the masses these days, as well as good fodder for the rumor mill, and he knew his image needed an overhaul. He didn’t care what people thought of him, but he sensed Jenkins feared he was starting to give the label a bad reputation, and if there was one thing he didn’t want to risk, it was his job.
And fucking the girl he was training probably wouldn’t do a lot to convince anyone he was a decent guy who didn’t demand sex of female performers before signing them.
Not that Brenna would fuck and tell. He knew that instinctively. It went back to what he’d felt from her last night—a professional maturity mixed with an underlying…realness that was almost sweet.
But he still couldn’t do it. And spending this week with her without doing it would be good practice.
“Know what you want yet?” he asked, turning back to face her.
“Blueberry pancakes,” she said.
And their eyes met. And he experienced it again, that urge to move closer, lean into her, press his mouth to hers, press his hardening cock to the crux of her thighs. He still couldn’t believe this was the same girl who’d been sitting outside Jenkins’ office the last few years. “Sounds good,” he said, trying to keep his voice from coming out raspy. “Think I’ll have the same thing.”
He strode to the phone, thinking what he really wanted to have right now wasn’t on the room service menu.
Three
They ordered lunch in, too. They scoured contracts, Damon talked, Brenna asked questions, and he sometimes quizzed her on what she’d learned. And by the time they finished working late that afternoon, several things were clear to Brenna: she’d already understood the Blue Night contracts better than she’d realized, she was catching on fast, she enjoyed working with Damon and thought him a far nicer guy than she’d ever expected—and it was impossible not to think of him sexually.
The man dripped sex, after all. From his dark good looks and bedroom eyes to the workout-chiseled body that his clothes couldn’t begin to hide. From the very moment he’d answered the door that morning, she’d been permeated with a raw lust that surpassed anything she’d ever experienced. And this time she couldn’t blame it on wine. Or atmosphere. Or anything except pure animal magnetism.
Every time he smiled at her it sliced right to her core. Every time his eyes sparkled on her, she felt it between her legs. And the way his toned muscles had filled out his Violent Femmes “Gone Daddy Gone” T-shirt had turned her warm all over. She’d been aroused by his very presence all damn day. And finding out, even more than she had last night, that she actually liked him—and thought him intelligent, shrewd, and amiable—wasn’t helping the situation. It would have been a lot easier to ignore the animal magnetism if he’d been the smug jerk she’d always envisioned.
But you got through the day okay, she reminded herself as she changed clothes for the evening. They were going to an underground club called Fetish—“which,” Damon had promised her with a wink, “isn’t as scary as it sounds.”
“So I don’t need to wear black leather from head to toe to fit in?” she’d asked.
He’d tilted his sexy head, a glint of flirtation in his eyes. “No—but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in some black leather.”
Of course, her nether