From New York Times bestselling author Laurelin Paige, comes a sexy novella in her Fixed Trilogy Series…DIRTY FILTHY FIX, a new novella brought to you by 1001 Dark Nights! Grab your copy of this amazing novella today!
I like sex. Kinky sex. The kinkier the better.
Every day, it’s all I think about as I serve coffee and hand out business agendas to men who have no idea I’m not the prim, proper girl they think I am.
With a day job as the secretary to one of New York’s most powerful men, Hudson Pierce, I have to keep my double life quiet. As long as I do, it’s not a problem.
Enter: Nathan Sinclair. Tall, dark and handsome doesn’t come close to describing how hot he is. And that’s with his clothes on. But after a dirty, filthy rendezvous, I accept that if we ever see each other again, he’ll walk right by my desk on his way to see my boss without recognizing me.
Only, that’s not what happens. Not the first time I see him after the party. Or the next time. Or the time after that. And as much as I try to stop it, my two worlds are crashing into each other, putting my job and my reputation at risk.
And all I can think about is Nathan Sinclair.
All I can think about is getting just one more dirty, filthy fix.
Grab your copy of DIRTY FILTHY FIX today!
“I’d like a try.” It was the stranger with the green eyes.
Of course the night would ramp up right when I announced I was leaving. I looked up at him expectantly, but he didn’t approach. I realized he was waiting for my invitation. He was definitely new. Everyone else knew Miss T was one of the most ready and willing participants in the room—to the point where some tried to take advantage of it. I never needed to issue invitations, but I often needed to reinforce boundaries.
“What are you waiting for, then?” I sat up straighter, ignoring Chuck’s grunt of complaint.
The stranger came forward with slow, swaggering steps. When he reached me, he loosened his bowtie a little before lowering himself to one knee at my side. He placed his arm next to mine on the chair, his fingers barely grazing my skin. Goosebumps sprouted up my forearm all the way to my neck, and he hadn’t even bent in to whisper yet.
And then he did. His breath skated over the shell of my ear, and my heart tripped unexpectedly in my chest.
How long had it been since that had happened from just the feel of someone breathing against me?
“I’m going to kiss you one way or another tonight,” he said, low and with such surety a shiver ran down my spine. “It’s your decision whether it’s now or later.”
So. Not just a voyeur then.
He sat back to study my features. My jaw was slack, and I scanned his expression, searching for a hidden motivation. My body tingled from head to toe. I was used to men—strangers—wanting me. I was used to them approaching me. I was used to them telling me how much they desired me.
Why was this man so different?
Maybe it was because those other men always looked everywhere in the room. When their eyes landed on me, I knew I was just one of many options.
He’d looked around the room. I’d watched him throughout the night. But nothing had interested him. I could tell by the way he was still wearing his jacket, by the way his eyes were only now beginning to dilate as they stared into mine.
He’d studied the room and decided nothing here had interested him but me.
That was definitely not the kink that usually got me off. That was Cinderella-story kind of kink. The fairytale kink with a happy ending was traditional, but a kink all the same—being chased. Being placed on a gilded pedestal. I never wanted to be somebody’s Only One in the Room. I liked having my own space. I liked being able to disappear when I wanted. I liked not having chains or boundaries. I was turning thirty-five soon. I wasn’t a starry-eyed teenager anymore. I knew what I wanted from life and love and relationships and sex. And it wasn’t a pedestal.
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
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