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Playboy CEO, Cal McAdams, lives life in the fast lane: hot women, hotter deals, and… a fake fiancee? I signed on to help reform his reckless image and win custody of his god-children, but I wasn’t expecting to come face-to-face (and mouth-to-mouth) with my wild Vegas hook-up from three years ago.
AKA, 6”3 of tanned muscle, sharp suits, and ‘undress me’ eyes.
AAKA, the best thigh-clenching, bed-shaking sex of my life.
AAAKA, the man who couldn’t be more off-limits if he had a uranium belt wrapped around his, um, assets.
I’ve never been one to break the rules, but Cal has me wanting to rip them up - and roll around naked on the scrap paper. But with just three weeks to turn this bachelor into a DILF, can we keep our crazy chemistry from derailing his plans? Or will gold-digging relatives, rambunctious pre-teens, and a little thing called love leave us both crashed out of the race?
Find out in the new sexy, hilarious romantic comedy from Lila Monroe!
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CAL POV
I bring the rest of the dirty dishes over to the sink, and we work in companionable silence for a few minutes, Jules rinsing plates before handing them to me to set in the dishwasher.
See? Nothing sexy about dirty dishes.
“Great stacking, Cal,” she says, looking surprised.
“What, you think I don’t know how to load a dishwasher?” I make a face. “I’m not completely useless.”
“Well, no,” she allows, tilting her head to the side. “Not completely.”
“Oh, you think you’re funny,” I say, reaching over to dip my fingers in the suds before flicking them in her direction.
“I am,” she says, flicking me back. “And don’t start.”
“Start what?” I ask, reaching over and splashing more. But this time, the water hits her square on, soaking her T-shirt so the thin cotton goes translucent. Clinging to her curves, and the outline of her bra.
Okay, so apparently dirty dishes can get sexy, after all.
Jules clears her throat and grabs a hooded sweatshirt from the back of a chair and pulls it on—zipping all the way to her chin. “You good to finish in here?” she asks, looking flustered.
I nod. Down, boy. “You go put your feet up.”
“You don’t have to ask twice.”
Jules exits the kitchen, fast, and I sigh. Kissing her back at HQ was a massive mistake . . . which left me with a massive hard-on for the rest of the afternoon. I couldn’t help it. Something about Jules is dangerously kissable.
And lickable.
And definitely fuckable.
I scowl at the dishcloths. I’ve never had a problem keeping my hands to myself before, and if I wanted to get a workout, I have plenty of options. I may not be living the wild playboy lifestyle anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m a monk.
But Jules is off limits.
Which is probably why I’m going crazy over here trying not to notice the way she bites her lower lip when she’s thinking . . . or how her jeans fit way too well.
And if I even let myself start to remember how she felt in Vegas, bucking against me, begging for more—
Fuck, I’m going to need a damn cold shower twice a day at this rate.
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About the Author
Combining her passions for books, sex, and well-fitted suits, Lila Monroe wrote her first romantic comedy, The Billionaire Bargain, in 2015 and hasn’t stopped since. She loves writing about smart alpha men, and the strong and sassy women who try to tame them.
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