From New York Times bestselling author Laurelin Paige, comes a sexy novella in her Fixed Trilogy Series…DIRTY FILTHY FIX, a new novella brought to you by 1001 Dark Nights!
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I like sex. Kinky sex. The kinkier the better.
Every day, it’s all I think about as I serve coffee and hand out business agendas to men who have no idea I’m not the prim, proper girl they think I am.
With a day job as the secretary to one of New York’s most powerful men, Hudson Pierce, I have to keep my double life quiet. As long as I do, it’s not a problem.
Enter: Nathan Sinclair. Tall, dark and handsome doesn’t come close to describing how hot he is. And that’s with his clothes on. But after a dirty, filthy rendezvous, I accept that if we ever see each other again, he’ll walk right by my desk on his way to see my boss without recognizing me.
Only, that’s not what happens. Not the first time I see him after the party. Or the next time. Or the time after that. And as much as I try to stop it, my two worlds are crashing into each other, putting my job and my reputation at risk.
And all I can think about is Nathan Sinclair.
All I can think about is getting just one more dirty, filthy fix.
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I swallowed and peeked behind me at the door to Hudson’s office. It was still shut, thank goodness, but I had to be sure. Then I looked back into Nathan Sinclair’s mischievous green eyes.
“I keep my business life and my private life very separate, Mr. Sinclair. I hope you understand that.” I had to bargain with him somehow. It was evident he had the advantage, but I had to try and regain control. In the last ten years, I’d only slept with a handful of people from the Open Door, and all before I’d made my list of rules. After that, I’d made sure that the only men I’d slept with were people I knew through friends, or work, or people completely disassociated with the club. “But I could make an exception if I had to,” I said aloud.
“If you’re suggesting we barter,” Mr. Sinclair said, leaning forward, his elbows on his muscular thighs, “I think I could agree to something.”
“I’m off at five. I could meet in the bathroom, or there’s a hotel just down the street…”
Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “I’m not asking for anything that complicated. I’m not in the habit of forcing women into seduction.”
Huh. That was disappointing for some reason. “Then what did you have in mind?”
Under his beard, the short, boxed style that George Clooney made sexy, I caught the hint of a smirk. “I’ll take your panties.”
His nod was short and subtle. “You are wearing some, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m wearing panties.” I scowled. What did he take me for?
Though, the idea of not wearing panties and sitting so close to him was doing weird things to my insides. Yummy weird things.
I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “If I give them to you, you won’t tell a soul that I work here and go to those parties? You’ll never mention it again?”
“Cross my heart.” He had a dimple when he smiled. His eyes sparkled, and those tiny wrinkles at the corners made him dignified at the same time.
About the Author
USA Today and Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
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