Hot Asset (21 Wall Street, #1)

by Lauren Layne

On paper, I’m a douchebag. Yeah, I said it so you don’t have to.

So, like I said—I’m basically the poster boy for “Wall Street dickhead.”

It’s three o’clock on “Merger Monday,” and I need more caffeine.

Even if he did, my friend doesn’t touch my leftovers. Wall Street has a guy code.

She whirls around at my voice, and my head snaps back a little when I see her face-to-face. Not because I know her but because I want to know her. For one bizarre-ass moment, the woman feels meant for me.

“Do I need help with what? Pushing buttons?” You can push my buttons anytime.

“I’m headed to Starbucks. Let me buy you a real drink.” She lifts her mug. “I’m good with this.” “You could be better with something else,” I say, lowering my voice.

“let me know when I’m supposed to fake the swoon.” You wouldn’t be faking anything with me, sweetheart.

But I’m good at it, and it’s a necessary step on my path toward my endgame: The FBI.

Damn it, he really does smell good. What is that, sandalwood? Cedar? George Clooney’s sweat?

my MD (managing director, not the doctor kind),

The CEOs love me. I’m their hottest asset. They know it, and I know it.

Just days after inheriting the CEO title from his dad, Samuel Wolfe Jr. married Samantha Barry, a partner at a competing firm, thus creating one of the world’s richest power couples.

If you were trying to sell someone on the magic of overpriced Starbucks beverages—” “Mocha Frappuccino, extra whip, extra chocolate shavings,”

“You want to play sexy cat and mouse, I can play right back, and I’ll win.”

That should blow her prudish little mind. My cock twitches, and I realize my mistake—thinking of Lara and blow in the same sentence. Damn it.

“Nothing. You just don’t strike me as the type to have an orchid. They’re notoriously finicky and require a bit of coddling.” “I can coddle.”

“Is it weird that I might like her?” Kate asks. No, I think. What’s weird is that I know I like her.

Your charm didn’t work before, so use your other ace up the sleeve.” “I’m better with the ace in my pants.” He rolls his eyes. “Keep it zipped.

The sudden realization that our very realities might be incompatible feels . . . unacceptable.

“Perfect,” I retort. “And I’ll pretend not to notice the way you look at Kennedy Dawson when he’s not looking.”

This job is his entire identity—this world, the long hours, the fast pace, the parties, the money, all of it.

I’d accused her of being jealous, of wanting my hands on her, but the truth is, it’s me who wants her. Me who wants nothing more than to strip off that fussy jacket, shove up that prim skirt, and see if she’s as wet as I am hard from our sparring.

“No, stay. You can point and laugh. I’ll even let you take pictures.” I soften my voice. “Just . . . don’t leave.”

“Hypothetically, I may know what it’s like to be aware of someone who’s completely off-limits.” “Sounds tricky. Do I know him?” Lara takes a sip of her drink. “You know his type.” “Good-looking? Good in bed?” She laughs. “More like arrogant, stubborn, and really accustomed to getting his way.” I nod. “Ah, yep. I do know him. I can assure you he’s also good-looking and amazing in bed.”

I try to keep it casual, almost maternal and businesslike. But then my fingers accidentally brush against his throat, and we both have to pretend not to notice. Or at least I pretend. Maybe he really doesn’t notice.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, not looking at me as a cab pulls to a stop in front of us. “When I make out with you, it won’t be against the wall of a seedy club. And I will definitely remember it.”

And Lara McKenzie’s exactly what I want.

Instead I feel a little . . . blah. Like colors are just a little less bright when he’s not around.

It’s my first name that does it. I’d never realized how the simple use of someone’s name can be used as foreplay, but ever since the night at the club, I’ve been thinking about the way my name rolls off Ian’s tongue. It feels like seduction at its most effective.

“Haven’t you heard? When I set my mind on something, I always get what I want.” The way he looks at me makes it clear what he wants: me.

I take the spring roll, telling myself it’s because I’m hungry, not because he’s the most gorgeous man alive, and if I don’t put my mouth on something, I’ll act like an idiot.

“Can I tell Matt and Kennedy you called them my besties? They’ll love it.”

I close my eyes and try to ward off the wave of frustration that I’m finally getting everything I want . . . And yet I’m terrified that what I need just walked out my front door.

“Yeah, I get it,” I grumble. “Hell, that was me once.” He gives me an exasperated look. “Ian, that was you just weeks ago.” I grunt. He’s right, and we both know what changed me. Who changed me.

“You telling her about how you’re still trying to get over me?” “Well,” Sabrina says, using her nails to pick his hand off her shoulder as though it were a piece of trash, “I do definitely remember being over you. I’ve never been with someone quite so content to just lie there on his back.”

I’m too afraid she’ll see the real reason I’ve been avoiding her—the real reason I’m so damn mad at her. Because I want her. And my heart’s terrified she won’t want me back.

“Stew in silence. But I’m mad, too, Ian. You come to my apartment, you make me feel . . . and then you ignore that I exist—”

“I can’t do this, Ian. I can’t play your games. I don’t know what to do when one day you want me, the next you’re angry with me and don’t.” “I’ve never stopped wanting you,”

“Yes, I’m angry. You think I want to want you? You think I relish the fact that the woman who’s occupied my every thought for the past month is the SEC? You think I like that this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way, but you—”

“I don’t know if I can do this kind of thing as well as you do,” she says quietly. “Actually, I know I can’t.” “What sort of thing?” “Casual . . . sex. Flings.” It wouldn’t be casual. It wouldn’t be a fling.

I’ve been so busy figuring out how to protect myself from Ian, it hasn’t really occurred to me that Ian might need protecting from me.

wanted anyone like I want you. I’ve been waiting for it to pass, but something about you’s got me wrapped around your sexy little finger.”

“What are you doing?” “Showering. With you.” “I already—” “Yes. But ”—I interrupt her with a quick smack on her bare butt—“you’re about to be a very dirty girl.”

Because we all know what I need. Or at least what I want. Lara.

But I don’t know how to tell her that I want to try for real. I don’t even know how.”

“Are you cooking right now?” I ask, a little bit stunned. He gestures me in with the spoon and kisses my cheek. “I am. And you should be both flattered and worried that this is a first for me.”

My eyes water, because it’s in that moment that I know I love him. Because it takes a hell of a guy to put someone else’s happiness above his own. To want something for me more than he wants something for himself.

Then he reaches for me, and I go to him, our mouths colliding in a kiss that’s as hot as it is sad, a frantic melding of lips that’s both a promise and a goodbye.

Don’t go, his kiss says. I have to, mine answers back.