Executive Toy Read Online Free

as condescending as I recall. I turn stiffly toward its owner and see the mysterious man I’ve been obsessing over for weeks.
    He’s half sitting, half leaning on the edge of Tarraget’s massive wooden desk, and he’s wearing another pinstripe suit and somber tie. His short hair looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him. Of course he’s one of those guys who gets it trimmed every ten days so that he always looks the same. Of course. He’s holding a bottle of champagne. There’s an unopened bottle of champagne on the desk next to him as well as a mostly empty glass.
    “Who are you?” I blurt. I’m so surprised to see him that I can’t even pretend to be aloof.
    This makes the Samoan throw back his head and laugh, the sound explosive and impossible to ignore. The way he does it makes me think about sex. I have a hunch that he’s loud in bed, the kind of man who roars his pleasure.
    Heaven help me. Do you have any idea how rare it is to be in a room with two incredibly sexy alpha male types?
    Oh, god. There are three of them. The third man, who is sitting on a sofa on the other side of the door I just entered, is also holding a glass of champagne. When my eyes connect with his, my panties go from wet to wetter.
    Right now, I’m liking my odds. Even if Mr. Stick Up His Ass doesn’t know how to look at a woman, these other two do. The man on the sofa also has dark hair, which I can tell is baby fine. It falls over his brow in a swoop, and I get the urge to push it out of his hazel eyes, but I wouldn’t stop there. I want to trail my fingers over his square, aristocratic jaw. I want to grind myself on him until the magic he exudes rubs off on me.
    “I take it this is the woman you spanked,” the man on the sofa says. He’s looking right at me, so there’s no way he misses my face heating red.
    “Excuse me?” My voice is high. Too high. This is not a socially dominant register.
    “Yes, this is Lindsay.” My original tormenter sets down the bottle of champagne and rises to standing. Heavens, I’d forgotten how tall he is.
    He crosses the empty space between us and extends his hand. “Hawthorne Tarraget.”
    “Tarraget,” I repeat softly. It had never occurred to me that I might be looking for someone related to the owner. It’s not exactly a family business.
    “George is my grandfather,” he explains. “The amused gentleman to your left is Romeo Wood Bison. Don’t let the name fool you. He’s neither a playboy nor an emo kid. And on the sofa is—”
    “Rick Slade,” interrupts sofa man. “Call me Slade.”
    “Slade, Romeo… nice to meet… all of you.” I shake Hawthorne’s hand. I can’t bring myself to say his name. It’s simply too pretentious, too ridiculous.
    “You can call him by the first four letters of his name,” Romeo rumbles.
    It takes me a second to get it. “Hawt?” I snort. “That’s a joke, right?”
    Hawthorne grins as he releases my hand. Romeo asks, “You don’t think he’s hot?”
    Only then do I wonder how much these guys have already had to drink. I see just the one open bottle, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t already demolished a few others.
    “Nice to meet you, Hawthorne.”
    There’s a faint smirk on Hawthorne’s face, and for absolutely no reason whatsoever, I remember the size of the bulge in his pants. And then I remember that he’s been telling people about spanking me.
    I push my finger into his face. “Talking about what happened is… obnoxious,” I say. Reprehensible would have been better. Or gauche .
    This makes him smile. “Are you upset because I shared the spanking or the reason for the spanking?”
    “Both!”
    “I share everything with Romeo and Slade.” His smile widens. “Everything.”
    The way he says it makes me think he’s talking about… but no, men don’t do that. Do they?
    What I know for sure is that Hawthorne is nothing like he was three weeks ago. He’s still scary, don’t get me wrong, but his beauty