I dragged myself to the bedroom and popped an Ambien into my mouth. Within fifteen minutes, I was out cold, dreaming about the smell of Jameson’s skin and the sound of his rumbling laughter.

My phone chimed the minute I stepped foot into my office.

This should be good—more heartache. I must be a glutton for punishment because I turned right out of my office and directly up to his.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator car, I slammed into a hard body and stumbled back. Jameson Holt yanked me up from falling flat on my ass—his hard, heavy hands clamped themselves around my waist and held me tight. I let out a small gasp. Not because I was scared or shocked to bump into someone.

It was because his hands were on me, burning holes through my skin and permanently singeing their prints into the flesh; and he was practically dragging me into his office.

I couldn’t look at him. I covered my face with my hands and prayed he’d let me go. Please just let me go. “James, what—” I stopped midsentence, my breath yanked from my throat when he pulled my mouth roughly against his.

Warmth spread across my chest and the tips of my fingers tingled with fire.

I fell into his kiss, completely losing my mind to the way his tongue dipped inside my mouth. “Missed you, Lex. Missed you so much.”

There was nothing to do but kiss him back. I wanted him, so completely. I couldn’t say no; the word was wiped from my mind when it came to Jameson.

A deep growl escaped from his mouth as his hands quickly shoved my skirt up my thighs and lifted my bottom up onto his desk. Every nerve ending across my body ignited on fire. He pressed his palms hard along the inside of my inner thighs, sending electric pulses of need right to my core. I ached for him and parted my legs open wide.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Spread your legs wide. Are you wet for me?”

“Come and find out,” I said, making quick work of his buckle.

His fingers instantly found the lace edge of my panties and he dipped them under the fabric as he let out a ragged breath. “So wet.”

He yanked the lace away roughly and a cool breeze puckered against my bare flesh. My body ached for him. I wanted to feel him stretch me out and fill me up. I groaned loudly as he thrust three fingers deep inside me.

His forehead pressed against mine as he fucked me hard with his fingers—his thumb circling my clit.

I was so close to coming I fumbled crazily with his zipper until I pulled his dick out and rubbed it around my entrance. “Fuck, Lex, Fuck,” he panted. “I’m going to shove my cock and my fingers in you at the same time.” His breathing was heavy, his words panted out like I was making him absolutely breathless. “You want it? You want me to spread you open, baby?”

“Yes. Please. James,” I begged. God, he felt amazing. The quick strokes of his fingers and the pressure on my clit—made me about to explode.

“Lex,” he mumbled as he pressed the head of his cock alongside his fingers.

Instantly, I was clenching around him, pushing him inside me harder and faster. I was so close. So close. Then he began slamming into me—fingers and cock—and the sensation was intense. He buried his face in my neck and bit into my shoulder, cursing out filthy words that made me wetter and wetter and spiraling closer and closer to coming.

But hard raps on the other side of his office door stopped us mid-thrust. I was so close to coming my muscles clenched at him desperately. I needed him to move, just a few more times and I’d explode. I didn’t want to stop. It felt too good.

The knocking continued. “Jameson, it’s me. Open up.” His father’s voice was deep and demanding.

“Shit,” James swore, pulling out of me, leaving me empty and hollow. I clenched my legs together; the pressure between them still so intense I had to squeeze my eyes shut tightly and remember to breathe.

“Fix your skirt,” James grunted, shoving himself back inside his pants and fixing his belt. “Hurry,” he demanded.

Dizzy and panting, I straightened my skirt and blouse then stifled a giggle. God, we were like two horny teenagers unable to stop ourselves. It was so hot and dirty I wanted to rub myself through my skirt and have him watch me come before he opened the door. My whole body felt as if it were floating somewhere high along the ceiling.

“James? What’s going on?” his father’s presence filled up the room before I could find solid ground.

“Nothing,” James shrugged, “I was just going over a small matter with Miss Novak. Nothing important.”

My chest squeezed violently with his words, as if he’d punched them out right into my solar plexus.

Remington Holt’s eyes scanned James’s office—darted over all the objects and papers, seeming to look for something and came up empty. He barely glanced in my direction—like I was just some decorative potted plant in the middle of the office. Then his eyes narrowed and his hand pointed to everything but me. “Why isn’t your office empty?”

“Pop,” he said in a low voice, “this isn’t a good time to talk about this—”

“It’s not a good time? What are you talking about? I needed you in California two weeks ago. We agreed that you would take over as Editor in Chief there.”

My chest burned and I clutched at it, grasping onto the middle of my shirt and twisting it tightly in my fist. He was moving to California? To head the offices for Holt Media? I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re moving to California?” I whispered.

James’s jaw clenched tightly and I focused solely on it, not being able to meet his eyes.

“Yes,” he said coldly.

The silence that filled the room was painful. His father stood there between us, folding his arms across his chest, watching.

“You didn’t tell me any of this?” I said, finally looking up at his eyes. They were shadowed and emotionless. Bruised skin lay beneath them from lack of sleep.

“I didn’t know how,” he answered.

I stepped closer to him. “You open your fucking mouth and push the words out. Just like you made me do.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“No. Tell me what you want,” I answered, but his father spoke over me.

“What does it matter what the fact checker wants? You’re heading up the office in California like you agreed to do,” Remington stated.

“You agreed. Two weeks ago. While you were on your vacation?” I asked, quietly—trying my best not to show any emotion.

James just stared at me.

Another knock interrupted the tension in the office and Sophia sauntered in next, smiling her vicious smile. Trager the Mailroom Idiot stumbled in behind her and hovered by the entrance. “God, James. You’re not even packed yet?” she chided.

She knew?

Sophia knew he was leaving.

And I didn’t.

I wasn’t important enough to tell.

Just an insignificant fact checker and a meaningless three-week fling.

Remington narrowed his eyes between Sophia and me and said, “What is this, an impromptu gang bang?”

Holt hissed at his father.

Sophia laughed it off and laid her hand on Remington’s arm and squeezed. “The conference room is ready; everyone is there to witness Holt Media History!”

I stepped back, closer to the door. This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to run. I tilted my head to look at Trager. His eyes were down and he couldn’t face me. Why was he there? There was no way Alex Kavon was in that conference room right now. What were they both playing at?

“Shall we go inside the conference room, gentlemen?” she asked, walking toward the door and waving her elegant arms in the direction she wanted to herd everyone. Then she smirked at me over the back of her shoulder. “Miss Novak, are you coming?” Sophia cooed, rubbing her hand over Holt’s arm and pulling him through the doorway. “After this, everything could go back to normal around here.”