I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from letting an audible gasp escape my lips. When I swing the door open all the way, I see the body of a Greek god standing before me, facing me from where he’s standing by my glass windows.
I examine him carefully, scrutinizing every feature and aspect of his appearance and body language. He has jet black hair that he has intricately parted at the side, and he’s clean shaven with a gorgeous face.
I don’t even know who this guy is, but I’m deducing by the way he’s grinning at me with his hands in his pockets that he’s a powerful person with tons of influence that he’s not afraid to use on anyone he encounters.
He has enough swagger in his movements to stop any woman dead in her tracks, and that—unfortunately— seems to include me.
“I think you might be in the wrong office,” I joke, trying to break the ice with this mysterious yet totally fuckable hunk.
Yes, I’m extremely embarrassed to even fucking admit that I have an instant attraction to this man. But I’m still a warm-blooded woman, after all.
“Oh, trust me,” he grins slyly and takes a step closer towards me, “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
“You sound pretty confident.” I snort, although I don’t mean to. “Can I help you with something?”
I lay my purse down on my desk and stand directly across from him. He looks deep into my eyes, and as fucking cheesy as it sounds, I swear I nearly get lost in their delicious, swirly caramel color.
I take a deep breath and then clear my throat, waiting for him to state the reason for his presence. “It’s not every day I get the pleasure of having a visitor greet me when I arrive at the office,” I joke further, thinking that it’s helping me relax, even if I’m not that fucking funny. Like at all.
He laughs anyway, I guess to appease me, which makes me feel even more pathetic.
He approaches me and takes my hand, startling me. He softly kisses the top of my palm and winks at me.
Who the fuck is this guy, and did he just jump out of a 1920s black and white movie?
All joking aside, his tender and soft lips make me tingle between my legs when he makes skin-to--skin contact.
I try to level my body’s out of nowhere reactions and keep my poker face holding strong.
I pull my hand away. “Please, take a seat.” I motion to the chair opposite my chair behind the desk.
He does as I ask and continues to grin at me as if he’s God’s fucking gift to women or something and I should be honored to be in his presence.
Maybe I am. Who knows? He sure is fucking hot. I feel like I’m under a spell or something with this guy.
“So, who the hell are you exactly and what the hell are you doing in my office?” I get right down to the pressing question of the hour.
He laughs again. “You aren’t afraid to be blunt, are you?”
“Not particularly…” I say, meeting his gaze dead-on.
“I’m Owen Wolfe, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extends a hand for me to shake this time, and when I take it, I get that warm feeling again, melting my skin just with his touch.
“Why does that name sound familiar?” I ask, and contemplate the answer.
“I get that all the time.” He gives me a cheesy grin that’s ridiculously full of macho arrogance.
“So, what makes you special?” I tease.
“I’m the founder, owner and CEO of Lone Wolfe Pictures,” he says with pride.
“I love your movies!” I exclaim. “How do you get all the A-list celebs to play roles in your films?”
“Easy,” he says, and winks at me again. “I have the charm they all flock to.”
I laugh. This guy is just too fucking much. “Is that movie about the two people who get lost in the woods on a camping trip and then fall in love yours? You know…what’s it called?” I snap my fingers and try to rack my brain.
“Hunted.” He nods. “Yep, that’s us.”