Read Online That Which Destroys Me by Kimber S. Dawn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kimber S. Dawn
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three’s a crowd and I will not have Ms. Reese or her education get lost in the shuffle. She is my number one priority. Understood?”
She storms out of the office muttering a “Yes, sir.” under her breath.
After the door closes behind her, the words fall from my mouth. “Well. You certainly pissed her off.”
“Fuck her.” He smirks. “Dinner, Stella. We were talking about dinner.”
“Ahh… Sure. It’s just dinner. I like to eat. Sounds good.”
His laugh is so sexy and so damn sinister all at the same time, I almost fall in love with this motherfucker—Again.
“Right. Just dinner. You keep telling yourself that.”
My first week seems to fly by. I’ve always been a quick learner, and since reading and writing has been my obsession for as long as I can remember, it’s extremely easy for me to throw myself into every aspect of Jacobs Publishing House.
I soak up every single detail of what Wesley says while teaching me, every piece of information he hands me is a pearl of wisdom that I cherish. I absolutely revel in his compliments and the verbal praise of my adaptability and eagerness to learn.
Regretfully, Rachel and my relationship remains at a stalemate. I know… It breaks my heart to pieces too.
It’s Friday and Wes and I are the only two souls left in the entire building. It’s nearing nine o’clock at night but I don’t mind. I could listen to him talk about his authors and editors; the marketing aspect of publishing— All of it. I could listen to him explaining it to me in his southern drawl that reminds me of pure milk chocolate mixed with bourbon. Don’t ask me why my mind uses that combination of tastes… You know damn good and well your mouth watered thinking about it.
Wes’ enthusiasm and love for what he’s done with his company is so evident, it practically radiates from the pores of his skin. He fucking inspires the hell out of me, and that’s saying something because I haven’t been inspired by anyone—Ever.
To say I’m confused about what is going on between us is putting it mildly. I can’t make myself go back to where I was mentally or emotionally before he touched me. I’ve never, EVER hungered for a man’s touch. I’ve never had a physical relationship with a man that I’ve found attractive.
And holy Christ, Wesley Jacobs is the sexiest fucking man I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, we’re talking 6’4” at least. His dark hair is kept short and always appears as though fingers have been run through it during a good fuck session.
And his olive complexion against his stark hunter green eyes? Shit. Throw a fucking dark gray Armani suit on top, pfft… I stand about as much of a chance as a snowball in the ninth circle of hell.
“After we’ve met with new authors for the last time and all the negotiations are agreed upon and the legal paperwork has been filed, we usually start by requesting their last manuscript or their work in progress. YOU, Ms. Stella Reese, are going to take Jude Preston’s MS when I receive it and you are going to make that bitch your baby. Tell me, what did you think about the author himself when we had our conference call with him?”
Through a yawn I answer, “I liked him, loved his ideas. For a guy that has practically sold his first two books on street corners and oversaturated the social media avenues available. Shit, what’s not to like? His drive alone excites me.”
Wes looks down at his watch, “Shit! Jesus, Stell it’s past nine! I’m sorry! We didn’t even eat lunch! You want me to drive you home? We can stop by one of my favorite little Italian bistros on our way to your place.”
At his mention of food and home, exhaustion and I run into each other like a head on collision. “Yeah, sounds great.” I motion to Mr. Preston’s paperwork and his most recent manuscript. “Can I take these and get caught up on my new baby over the weekend?” I ask smirking up at him.
“Yeah, sure. Take whatever you need.
She storms out of the office muttering a “Yes, sir.” under her breath.
After the door closes behind her, the words fall from my mouth. “Well. You certainly pissed her off.”
“Fuck her.” He smirks. “Dinner, Stella. We were talking about dinner.”
“Ahh… Sure. It’s just dinner. I like to eat. Sounds good.”
His laugh is so sexy and so damn sinister all at the same time, I almost fall in love with this motherfucker—Again.
“Right. Just dinner. You keep telling yourself that.”
My first week seems to fly by. I’ve always been a quick learner, and since reading and writing has been my obsession for as long as I can remember, it’s extremely easy for me to throw myself into every aspect of Jacobs Publishing House.
I soak up every single detail of what Wesley says while teaching me, every piece of information he hands me is a pearl of wisdom that I cherish. I absolutely revel in his compliments and the verbal praise of my adaptability and eagerness to learn.
Regretfully, Rachel and my relationship remains at a stalemate. I know… It breaks my heart to pieces too.
It’s Friday and Wes and I are the only two souls left in the entire building. It’s nearing nine o’clock at night but I don’t mind. I could listen to him talk about his authors and editors; the marketing aspect of publishing— All of it. I could listen to him explaining it to me in his southern drawl that reminds me of pure milk chocolate mixed with bourbon. Don’t ask me why my mind uses that combination of tastes… You know damn good and well your mouth watered thinking about it.
Wes’ enthusiasm and love for what he’s done with his company is so evident, it practically radiates from the pores of his skin. He fucking inspires the hell out of me, and that’s saying something because I haven’t been inspired by anyone—Ever.
To say I’m confused about what is going on between us is putting it mildly. I can’t make myself go back to where I was mentally or emotionally before he touched me. I’ve never, EVER hungered for a man’s touch. I’ve never had a physical relationship with a man that I’ve found attractive.
And holy Christ, Wesley Jacobs is the sexiest fucking man I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, we’re talking 6’4” at least. His dark hair is kept short and always appears as though fingers have been run through it during a good fuck session.
And his olive complexion against his stark hunter green eyes? Shit. Throw a fucking dark gray Armani suit on top, pfft… I stand about as much of a chance as a snowball in the ninth circle of hell.
“After we’ve met with new authors for the last time and all the negotiations are agreed upon and the legal paperwork has been filed, we usually start by requesting their last manuscript or their work in progress. YOU, Ms. Stella Reese, are going to take Jude Preston’s MS when I receive it and you are going to make that bitch your baby. Tell me, what did you think about the author himself when we had our conference call with him?”
Through a yawn I answer, “I liked him, loved his ideas. For a guy that has practically sold his first two books on street corners and oversaturated the social media avenues available. Shit, what’s not to like? His drive alone excites me.”
Wes looks down at his watch, “Shit! Jesus, Stell it’s past nine! I’m sorry! We didn’t even eat lunch! You want me to drive you home? We can stop by one of my favorite little Italian bistros on our way to your place.”
At his mention of food and home, exhaustion and I run into each other like a head on collision. “Yeah, sounds great.” I motion to Mr. Preston’s paperwork and his most recent manuscript. “Can I take these and get caught up on my new baby over the weekend?” I ask smirking up at him.
“Yeah, sure. Take whatever you need.
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