Hold You: Love on the Clock

By Nichole Rose

This giant Russian will fall like a ton of bricks when he meets his curvy angel.

 

Knox
Lauren York is the cutest little angel I've ever met.
Her sweetness is like nothing I've ever known.
And her innocence drives me crazy.
I know nothing of caring for such a girl.
I probably shouldn't have kissed her five minutes after I met her.
I definitely should not be chasing her all over the office.
But that won't stop me.
This little angel is mine. And I'm not giving up until she agrees.

 

Lauren
Knox Mikhail is a giant Russian bully.
He's also hotter than Hades, bossy, and growly.
I didn't mean to kiss him five minutes after I met him.
Or kick him in the shin right after that.
Now he says I belong to him.
Why does that sound so good?!
Oh, man. I'm in so much trouble here.

 

Warning
When this older Russian meets his curvy younger woman, he falls head over heels. If office romance, over-the-top Russians, and sassy heroines make you happy, get ready to fall for Knox and Lauren in this laugh-out-loud romantic comedy. This sweet, steamy romance from Nichole Rose is chock full of all three…plus a sticky sweet and guaranteed HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nichole Rose
• Release date: Sep 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223318491

Book preview

Chapter One

Lauren

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H oly moly, I whisper, pushing my glasses down my nose to gape at the giant currently standing on the far side of the lobby beside Bryant Denver. I blink a couple of times, certain he isn't nearly as big as he looks from my vantage point behind the front desk.

He doesn't get any smaller.

Jeez. What did his parents feed him?

He's at least six foot six, with thighs bigger around than my entire torso. He's not fat, just wide, with a barrel chest and massive arms. His bulk stretches the seams of his expensive black suit. If he's not careful, the buttons might pop off and turn into projectiles.

I snort at the thought of being taken out by a giant's flying button, and then crane my neck, trying to get a better look at the man. I think he's one of the two new guys Grant Davis, my boss, hired for security. Since Bryant ships out to Iraq next week, we needed someone to replace him. I guess the Thor-like blond beside the giant is the other one. They're former detectives, I think.

The blond, who isn't a whole lot smaller than the giant, looks like he could be a detective. I think the giant would be more comfortable in a cage, beating opponents to a pulp. He's wickedly handsome, or handsomely wicked…one or the other. They both seem accurate to me.

His dark hair skirts the line between a buzz and crew cut. His prominent brow ridge and dark brows give him an austere, stern demeanor. From this distance, his eyes look like twin pools of obsidian as he examines the lobby. They're beautiful. Coupled with his angular jaw, full lips, and that body…Lord have mercy.

He's what Joey Escudo, my best friend Miranda's gay bestie, would call immanently doable…only Joey would have used other words. Either way, he'd be right. A man who looks like the giant probably has a lot of practice being done. I bet women fall all over him trying to take him to their beds.

My mom would. She'd already have him eating out of the palm of her hand, well on her way to the bedroom. He probably wouldn't even try to resist her.

The thought deflates me like a balloon with a hole in it.

My mom is…well, she's nothing like me. She's petite and beautiful, with natural blonde hair and green eyes. At forty-five, she looks closer to thirty-five, thanks to all the Botox injections and fillers. She's vivacious, flirty. Men make fools of themselves trying to get her attention.

They never keep it for very long.

She lets them catch her for a little while, and then moves on to the next.

I'm her exact opposite. Men don't seem to notice I exist. At twenty-two, I've been on exactly three dates in my life, and one doesn't even count because my date left with another girl. Apparently, I was just a stand in. High school boys suck.

Not much has changed since then. I'm five-seven and curvy. My jet-black hair never does what I want it to do unless I sacrifice an hour of sleep to appease the hair gods. A pair of chic glasses hide my hazel eyes. I have great boobs and a nice butt, but I try not to show them off. Hiding them in business suits or oversized sweaters and slacks is easier than listening to my mom harp on my weight.

She's been doing it my whole life, but it still stings. I spent most of my teenage years trying to please her. I played sports, went to the gym, ate like a bird. It never changed my shape or made her less critical. Eventually, I gave up trying to please her and learned to live with my body. It's not perfect, but I'm okay with that. I'd rather be thick and happy than starving and miserable.

My mom doesn't agree. Appearance is everything in her book, and I've never measured up. No one competes with my mom, though. She's gorgeous. And I don't think she means to hurt my feelings with her comments. It just happens.

Miranda thinks she's jealous of me. I think Miranda is crazy.

My mom and I are just two different people, that's all. She's gorgeous, and she loves being the center of attention. I hate being in the spotlight. I like dancing and having a good time, but I can be a little shy. I'm a wallflower, happier giving the spotlight to others instead of standing in it myself.

The giant across the room probably wouldn't even notice me in a crowd. Even if he did, I wouldn't know what to do to keep his attention. What I know about sex, I learned from HBO and romance novels, or from listening to my mom go at it with her numerous boyfriends in the other room. She's probably more his speed than I am.

For some reason that makes no sense to me, the thought of her with the giant makes my stomach churn. I push down the feeling and yank my gaze away from him and Bryant, refocusing my attention on the computer screen in front of me.

My phone dings with an incoming notification.

Darn it, I mutter when I reach for it and accidentally bump my coffee cup. The hot liquid sloshes over the sides of the mug, right onto the document I still need to run upstairs to Holly before the morning meeting.

I snatch the report from the desk, but it's already too late to save it.

Coffee spots dot the paper, turning the neatly ordered rows of numbers beneath into blurs.

Stupid-hot giant, I complain, tossing the document in the shredder before cleaning up the spilled coffee. Once that's done, I hit the button to print out a fresh copy and then grab my phone.

My stomach churns again when I see the text from my mom.

Mom: My check was short. I'll pay you back for the light bill next time.

I take a deep breath, trying not to get irritated with her. I moved back in with her when I finished college so I could save for my own place, but part of me wishes I hadn't. She never asks if I can cover her portion of the bills. She just assumes I'll do it. My job pays me well, but I pay rent, most of the bills we're supposed to split, and I buy the groceries. It's taking me a lot longer to save because I have to help her out so much.

Me: That's fine.

It's not fine, but it's not like I can tell her no. Paying for a hotel would cost more than paying her portion of the light bill. And we can't live without electricity just because she's not very good with money.

At least I'll be out late tonight so I don't have to listen to her constant complaints about her job. I feel badly for even thinking that way, but it's true. My mom is exhausting. Going out for Miranda's twenty-first birthday will be a heck of a lot more fun than dealing with her. With any luck, she'll be passed out by the time I get home. Or I'll go home with some sexy stranger.

Yeah, right, I mutter to myself when my mom texts back a heart emoji. "I'm going to die as a virgin spinster with five cats. And I don't even like cats."

Hey, brat.

I jump, nearly dropping my phone at the sound of Bryant's deep voice. My gaze flies upward and my heart sinks all the way into my shoes. The giant is standing right in front of my desk beside Bryant and Thor. There's no way he missed what I just said because he's staring right at me.

Please be too high up to hear me from way down here, I pray anyway.

His lips tilt into a lopsided grin and I know my prayer is futile. He heard me.

My cheeks burn, which makes him smile wider. Being pale sucks. My cheeks always turn bright red when I do something embarrassing, which, let's be honest, is a lot. Being awkward would be so much more comfortable if my shame didn't show all over my face.

I mean to look away from the giant, really, I do, but I can't seem to make my eyes obey the command. They're locked on him in some crazy hot hypnosis I can't seem to break. I was right earlier. His eyes are incredible. They're pools of melted dark chocolate I want to get lost in. And he is way more handsome from up close than he was from across the room. There's a small bump on the bridge of his nose, as if he broke it before, but the rest of his face is uncompromising, wolfish perfection, stark and stern.

He's as massive as I thought he was, standing a good two or three inches taller than Thor on his right and Bryant on his left. There isn't an ounce of fat on him, either. He's solid muscle, like He-Man. Only without the weird outfit and sword.

He is not someone I'd want to meet in a dark alley, that's for sure. He could probably squish me like a bug. Oddly, despite how hard and dangerous he appears, I'm not afraid of him. The teasing grin on his full lips screams trouble. So does the mischievous glint in his eyes. I can absolutely see this giant monster of a man breaking hearts all over the