Hart's Off-Limits Assistant

PROLOGUE

SAM

The hotel bar buzzes with the murmurs of conference attendees—men in tailored suits and loosened ties engaged in all sorts of conversation, expensive drinks in hand, perfectly blending in with the general upscale atmosphere.

I turn my back to the crowd and face the bar again, my jaw popping with the effort to smother a spectacular yawn I’ve been dying to let loose for ages, but still can’t.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to do that really soon.

I rub the bridge of my nose instead, trying to relieve some of the strain in my eyes.

God, I’m exhausted.

Four days of endless presentations, meetings, and networking, coupled with barely any sleep, and I’m more than ready for this business conference to be over.

And being close to my heat while in spaces brimming with overwhelming alpha pheromones is only making me more sluggish by the second. To say I can’t wait to get back to my own hotel and get out of these stifling clothes would be an understatement.

A nice, warm shower will also feel amazing before I pass out for many, many hours.

I sigh, and take a sip of my cold ginger ale, the cool liquid so damn refreshing, but the combination of soft lights, low conversations, and faint jazz throws me straight back to jaw-popping yawn territory. And this time, there’s absolutely no suppressing it.

Someone chuckles from my left, and I freeze, turning to look for the source of that sound.

And I find it, alright.

Leaning against the counter with a glass in hand. Impeccable suit, broad shoulders, dark hair, and eyes twinkling with obvious amusement. Trained on me.

My face flames, embarrassment making my cheeks burn.

“I suppose you saw that?” I mutter with a sheepish smile.

His lips twitch, the corners tipping up into a smile.

“It was hard not to.”

I groan internally.

Kill me. Kill me now.

“That’s great,” I say, knowing my face must be approaching fire-engine red status. “Sorry.”

The man chuckles again, setting his glass down and turning towards me.

“Don’t be. These things can get boring and tiring as hell.”

“And yet, I don’t see you trying to cover up a yawn at eight o’clock in the evening like your life depends on it.” I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I thought I’d leave that to you since you’re obviously so good at it.” His smile widens when I choke on my next sip of ginger ale. “Besides, I might be a bit tired too, but I can assure you I’m far from bored right now.”

His words set off a surprising, tiny, little flutter in my stomach, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time for me to catch up to what he’s saying.

Is he…

Amusement still lingers in his gaze, but there’s something else there, too.

The lights are low, and all the tiredness could be messing with my head right now, but I swear there’s interest dancing in those pale eyes.

Are they gray? Blue? Damn, I can’t tell in this light.

“Maybe you’ve simply exhausted all your boredom, and now there is none left.” I shrug casually, my gaze drawn to his, to that glint of interest.

“Somehow, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure it has to do with the company.”

The soothing jazz stretches between us as we look at each other.

“Are you…?” I drift off, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Am I what?”

“Flirting with me?” I blurt out, feeling my earlier blush spill dangerously down my neck, the skin growing warmer and tighter.

The soft, amber lights cast shadows on his face, making its sharp lines stand out even more. Something shifts in his expression, his eyes heavier on me.

“Yes,” he says simply. That earlier flutter is anything but tiny now. “Are you okay with that?”

His piercing gaze holds mine captive, and when I nod, his eyes flare with a pleased glint.

He oozes confidence, like most alphas do, but there’s nothing cocky about the way he’s looking or smiling at me.

I… I like that.

“Tell me your name.” The subtle, undercurrent command sends a small shiver through me, even as I shake my head and chuckle.

“That sounded suspiciously like an order.”

He lets out a low, throaty laugh that raises goosebumps on my skin, the sound so rough and genuine, it tugs to something inside me.

Fuck, what’s going on?

“You’re right. Job hazard. Feel free to tell me to go to hell.”

It’s that hint of uncertainty in his tone, of him wondering if he’s making me uncomfortable that makes my chest squeeze.

I don’t know what his line of work is, but if he’s attending this particular conference, he must be someone doing something important. He looks to be in his late 30s’ and everything about him tells me he’s not just an assistant filling in for his employer like I am.

“It’s Sam.”

His eyes sparkle silver at my words.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Devon.”

I lift my glass to my lips, drinking some of my ginger ale to hide a stupid little smile that’s begging to come out.

“So, Devon,” I lean with my forearm on the polished, mahogany bar counter, “you order people around for a living?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I also make everyone in my company call me ‘boss’ and ‘sir.’ It feels really good. Strokes my ego.”

I blink at him, and his cheek twitches.

“I have no idea if you’re being serious.”

I realize he’s come closer when I have to crane my neck to keep my eyes locked with his, when my lungs fill with the scent of cedarwood and bergamot—woody, crisp, and utterly intoxicating. It makes me want to close my eyes and just… breathe in.

He flashes me a boyish grin that is so at odds with his professional image, I can only stare.

“Why do you like messing with me?” The question tumbles out of me.

You don’t even know me. I’m a total stranger to you. Why are you talking to me like this?

Why are you looking at me like this?

His grin melts away slowly, and I swallow at the intensity in his expression.

“Because you blush so prettily, and I want to make you blush more.” He tips his head lower, and his breath ruffles my hair. “Flustered looks good on you.”

My eyelids threaten to flutter shut from his proximity, the heat radiating from his body making my head hazy, all my earlier tension draining out of me.

I try to get my own breathing under control, but there’s no hiding the faint tremble in my voice when I speak.

“Are you always this forward?”

The smile he gives me is deadly, but also shockingly intimate.

“Only when there’s something I really want.”

He’s close enough to touch, my mouth already forming the words, unable to stop myself. Needing to know.

“And what is that, Devon?”

His gaze sharpens, the air shifting between us. He leans in, like he’s sharing a secret he wants no one else to hear. Like it’s for my ears only.

“I want to bury my nose in your nape, and smell that sweet fucking scent that’s been making me dizzy since the moment I saw you,” he rasps, voice deep, pure gravel.

“I want to taste you, see if your lips are just as sweet. And I want to find out how far those gorgeous-as-fuck freckles go under your clothes.”

My lips part in a shaky exhale, my heart racing, my pulse thundering in my ears as image after image consumes my mind.

If my skin was warm and tight before, now it’s feverish-hot. It’s too tight to hold me, too tight to bear.

I feel like I’m burning up when I look up at him and his silver eyes swallow me whole, something thick and molten pooling in my belly.

Devon’s nostrils flare, his eyes roaming over every inch of my face.

“Tell me you want it too. Tell me I’m not the only one burning to touch you.”

This is crazy. This is absolute madness. We’ve only known each other for a mere half hour, but—

But.

I shake my head, and when he recoils as if I’ve physically struck him, I realize how my reaction must have looked like to him. Like me rejecting his words.

I reach out, laying a hand on his arm, and he freezes.

“You’re not… You’re not the only one.”

His eyes bore into mine, and he nods, his features smoothing out, a relieved smile taking over his face. It’s so hard to look away from it.

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers hoarsely and—

And I want that.

I want to go with him, even if it’s just for a few hours, even knowing I’m flying out tomorrow morning, and I’ll never see him again.

I want to go with him, and let him do to me everything he just said.

“Okay.”

The flash of heat in his gaze is enough to make my pulse jump, but it’s nothing compared to the moment he covers my hand on his arm with his.

The touch is so light, but I feel it everywhere.

My legs are unsteady the entire time it takes us to get to the elevator, and it gets so much worse when the automatic doors close behind us sealing us in for the short ride up, the barely-there distance separating us crackling with electricity.

By the time we arrive to his room, and Devon lets us in, I’m a bundle of nervous anticipation.

The room is mostly dark, a bedside lamp the only source of light, and when the door clicks shut, the sound echoes in the silence surrounding us.

In here, Devon’s scent is so much stronger that I feel it cling to my clothes, my skin.

I breathe it in greedily and exhale shakily when he steps close, inches from me. My eyes flutter when he cups my face and caresses my cheek with his thumb.

“Are you nervous, Sam?” he asks, voice soft.

“A little,” I admit, loving every second of that gentle caress.

Devon’s blue-gray eyes are serious when his hand moves and he tips my chin up.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything. Fuck what I said downstairs. I can get you something to eat or drink, and we’ll just sit and bitch about conferences. I’m actually really good at that—bitching about things,” he says with a small chuckle.

He means it, all of it, his concern about whether I’m comfortable and sure making me want him even more.

Well, I’ll just have to erase any doubt from his mind that I’m into this. So fucking into this.

I step into him, the move making all remaining distance between us disappear.

His breathing changes when my front brushes against his, his hand falling to his side as he watches me like a hawk.

“That’s a good plan, but you see, there’s one problem with that,” I mutter, peeking up at him.