Romance: The CEO Read Online Free PDF

something like that.
    As much as my fiery temper at times otherwise suggests, I wouldn’t even hurt a spider if it were crawling over my pillow; I’m one of those people who trap them in a jar and release them back outside instead.
    “You don’t know me,” I jeer at him, whose arrogant smirk is enough to make anyone lose their cool. “How dare you insinuate otherwise.”
    “You claim to know who I am in your articles,” he snaps wittily like he’s enjoying riling me up.
    “Prove me wrong then,” I say, nostrils flaring whilst I straighten out my chest. “Tell me what happened in the mines.”
    “You’re also a foolish little journalist, you know that?” he quips again, the smirk still there like a proud narcissist.
    Then before I even have a chance to blink he clasps an arm around my slim waist, pulling me against him.
    His free hand tangles in my hair, pulling on it so hard that I’m forced to look up at him.
    He appears to be studying my face: eyes, nose and pinched lips, each distinct feature, like they hold an answer to something he’s been trying to figure out.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shout, struggling under his grip.
    Never in my life has anyone touched me so forwardly.
    Has this been his plan all along?
    Asking me over here from the guesthouse…serving up oysters, a well-known aphrodisiac, and then plowing me with his fine, aged wine to get me tipsy enough to sleep with him whilst the backdrop of a hurricane rages on around us?
    It’s a perfect seduction, really.
    I should’ve heeded Sophia’s warning after all…
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    “Don’t play coy with me, Claire. You’ve been batting those long, glossy eyelashes at me. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says in a superior tone.
    “It most certainly is not what I want,” I wince, still trying to pull away from him, yet also finding it equally hard to fight the effect his hands on me is having on my libido. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
    But Jackson hasn’t seemed to hear me, lowering his face closer, and his breaths warm and infused with wine.
    It shouldn’t come as a great shock when he kisses me, but my body doesn’t know it. His lips move easily, teasing my mouth before his tongue finally enters and collides with mine.
    I stiffen instinctively, at first repelled by him and trying again to burn in my mind what a tyrant he is…the workers he’s forced into labor…the torture camp he may have endorsed…but then more pleasurable sensations take over, spreading out over my body.
    I haven’t been laid in over six months, and the synthesis of his body against mine is bringing out a dormant desire begging to be fulfilled.
    When he ends the earth-shattering kiss I am left speechless and compliant in his arms.
    “So that’s what malicious journalism tastes like,” he whispers, his lips trailing down to my neck. “Funny, I wasn’t counting on it being so satisfyingly sweet.”
    “You’re an animal,” I murmur, yet can’t help but revel from the touch of his lips.
    Soon they return to mine again, and willingly I open my mouth back up to him, a dizzying cloud of hunger enveloping my mind from the loss of contact with his lips only seconds earlier.
    He kisses me fervently, lust now the only true north as he scoops me up into his arms and carries me upstairs to the master bedroom.
    I feel vulnerable but comfortable in his strong arms.
    He makes me feel like a woman that needs his care…
    On his dark antique four-poster bed, draped with white Egyptian silk sheets, we embrace again, tearing our clothes off feverishly so that we’re both naked under each other’s ravenous gaze.
    As Jackson’s mouth traverses down my body I purr in his ear, “A friend warned me about you. She said you get whoever you want.”
    “You should have listened to her,” he purrs back. “She knows what she’s talking about.”
    He stares at me for a while before moving in to kiss me again.
    Oh…
    He is