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…Too bad a decade later, he’s a complete asshole.

Travis King.

He’s no knight in shining armor; more like a royal jackass. He may look like a prince on the outside, but on the inside he’s a cocky, arrogant womanizer that I want to shove over a cliff.

All right, that might sound dramatic and all, considering I just confessed my feelings about him, but those are feelings of hate…not love.

From being head over heels for him as a young girl to loathing him as a woman, Travis King needs to remember the golden rule—never admit defeat.

It was game on.

CHAPTER ONE

TRAVIS

I love a girl who can suck dick like a champ. Watching her tongue lick up my thick vein, pumping blood to my best and biggest asset, sets my body ablaze. She wraps her hand around my shaft, sucks on the tip, and pumps hard until I release inside her delicious mouth.

“Mm…salty.” She licks her lips and pushes a finger inside her mouth, sucking it clean.

“Sorry for the mess.” I pull myself back inside my pants and re-buckle my belt.

“I caught most of it.” She’s grinning, as if swallowing is some kind of special achievement.

I grab her hand and lift her up, leaning in to give her a chaste kiss. “Thanks, babe.”

“No, thank you.” Her eyes light up as a soft giggle releases from her throat.

I lick my lips. “Mm…you’re right.”

She furrows her brows in question.

“Salty.” Her eyes widen as she realizes to what I’m referring.

“So…same time next week?” She bats her long, fake lashes up at me, and I fight the urge to laugh in her face.

“I’ll check my schedule.” I open the door and casually look out in the hallway to make sure no one else is around. “All clear, babe.”

She follows me out, but we walk in different directions.

I head toward the elevator and press the call button. Once I’m in, I turn around and smile as I watch Alyssa Crawford’s hips sway from side to side as she walks toward the emergency exit staircase.

Yup. I’m hooking up with Sloan Crawford’s—CEO of Crawford Marketing—daughter.

And a nice hook-up it’s become.

“Wipe that smug look off your face, King.” I hear as soon as I step off the elevator. It’s Blake James, my lead supervisor.

“Don’t be a jealous dick,” I retort, walking toward my office.

“Not jealous, dude.”

“You would be if you knew what I was smiling about.” I turn around and grin, walking backward through my door. He rolls his eyes with a sigh, and I laugh as I slam the door shut.

Since my lunch break was spent in the bathroom on the ninth floor, I’m still starving. However, I can’t leave my office again, so I text my roommate, Drew. Dude, bring me a sandwich! I’m starving!

Didn’t you eat on your lunch? he immediately responds.

Not exactly… I send back, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.

Do I even wanna know?

I smirk. Let’s just say… I was the meal and she loved every last swallow.

How you don’t get your ass laid out and canned from your job, I’ll never know. I imagine him shaking his disapproving head at me.

It’s the charm, bro.

Unlikely.

So come on… bring me something to eat before I die.

Can’t…stuck doing bitch work till five.

I groan. He’s been working at the Sacramento PD for the past two years now, ever since we graduated from college. Between his long-distance girlfriend and working overtime, we barely cross paths anymore.

Fuck. All right. Never mind.

Why not just order delivery?

Because every chick that comes to deliver it ends up with an extra tip… That isn’t a complete lie. I also forgot my wallet, but I spare him the details.

I can’t even deal with you.

So you see my dilemma? I laugh to myself.

Sorry, man. I’ll see if I can get someone that has some self-control and willpower to send something.

I roll my eyes. Thanks, I text back.

I get back to work, making calls and returning emails before my afternoon conference call. Less than an hour later, the receptionist buzzes and tells me my lunch is here.

Yes! I knew Drew wouldn’t let me down.

“Send it in,” I say back.

I adjust my tie and sit back as the door whips open. I look up as five and a half feet of pure hatred walks in. Good call, Drew. The self-control and willpower is strong with this one.

Viola Fisher.

“Well, well, well…” I drawl out, crossing my arms over my chest in delight. “If this isn’t the surprise of the century.” Little Goody Two-Shoes, delivering my lunch as if I’m the biggest inconvenience of her life. She must have owed Drew a favor.

She throws a brown bag on top of my desk and glares. “Cut the shit, Travis.”

“Always a delight, V.” I continue smiling as her lips straighten into an angry line.

“It’s Viola,” she corrects like she does every time.

“But V the Virgin sounds so much better. Don’t you agree?”