A Cowboy for the CEO

Chapter 1: Push It

As far as Ali knew, there were only three types of sex that could make for a truly mind-blowing experience. Sadly, the pounding she was currently getting from the heir to the Rockitt Joe's clothing empire didn't qualify as any of them.

Twap, twap, twap.

Skin slapped against skin as the only other sound besides their mutual ragged breathing, and Ali's mind began to wander.

This definitely wasn't break-up sex because much to her mother's disappointment, she and the naked guy on top of her hadn't been "a thing" since college. He might have been good looking, rich, and completely infatuated with her, but Ali didn't have time for things like random Happy Hours or whatever it was couples regularly partook in these days. Her career came first.

And at this rate, it would be the only thing coming, she thought to herself, holding back a giggle at the unintended pun.

After composing herself, Ali decided that this sure as hell wasn't make-up sex, either. No matter how much nostalgia seeing Robert again might have stirred up, she was positive that as the great Miss Taylor Swift once said, they were never ever getting back together. No offense to him, but she'd take jet-setting around the world over becoming tied to a husband even if it meant staying up until midnight every day to clear her Inbox.

That only left the 'anonymous quickie in the club bathroom' scenario, and while she'd been there and done that, the current situation still paled in comparison.

Ali felt kind of bad for thinking about such things right then, but it wasn't totally her fault. The sunlight streaming through her childhood bedroom window was glaring directly into her face.

It was fucking distracting.

The next time she returned to the Hamptons in the middle of the night, she'd really need to remember to close those damned plantation shutters. Then again, if her family had picked her up at the airport instead of going directly to out to dinner last night, she wouldn't have run into the boy—or rather man—from next door and gotten into this . . . predicament.

"This is nice, right?"

The question from the blond hunk she was straddling from below in the boring-but-perfectly-adequate missionary pose brought her back to reality. Hoping that her agreement would at least hurry things along, Ali forced a smile. "Uh-huh. Nice."

Robert grinned back before planting a quick kiss on her lips.

"You haven't changed a bit, gorgeous," he said, enthusiastically resuming thrusting again.

Ali closed her eyes and took a deep breath, if only to keep from laughing at the absurdity of that assessment.

Haven't changed, my ass, she thought.

But of course, what did she expect? For a pretty-boy trust-fund baby who still wore the same skinny jeans, three hundred dollar hoodies, and all-white sneakers that he did in the twenty-tens to recognize the girl he'd teased in the third grade as the Assistant Vice President for International Initiatives at one of the biggest investment firms in Manhattan?

Puh-lease.

Robert Rochet couldn't care less that she had closed a $200 million deal with her firm's new Chinese partners less than twenty-four hours earlier. Or that she had spent the last six months busting her butt to make that happen.

Nope. All that seemed to interest him was how her cleavage looked in the Prada v-neck she wore off the helicopter last night. Or at least that's where his ocean blue eyes focused after he'd skidded his Porsche to a stop next to her as she left the airfield.