Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
That little girl is his everything, Clay’s words ring out in my head.
I choose not to dally too long on the photos and tiptoe across the rug in the living room, heading down the back hallway. I look in open doors, searching for a bedroom that looks like it belongs to the protein lover, and I finally find it at the very end.
It’s both clean and tidy, and almost impressively nondescript. There is no color, no touch of rugged bachelor, no personality whatsoever, just white walls, a black metal bedframe, and white linens.
As an almost interior designer, I think it’s as close to a blank canvas as I can imagine an artist having.
Especially him.
Since I started working for him last week, I’ve been studying all of his previous works rigorously. The internet is a vast source of knowledge, and what it’s taught me is very much at odds with Bennett’s bedroom. Artistically, he works conscientiously with color, mixing hues that are unexpected and oftentimes vibrant. I’m not surprised my wall painting made him consider hiring me, because while it wasn’t even in the same country of skill level he has, it was on point for the way he mixes colors.
Him having an all-white bedroom is just…weird.
Quickly, I move on from being judgmental and head for the attached bathroom. There’s still a little girl in the studio waiting for me, and I need to get my shit together.
I close the door and lock it, and then turn on the shower to let it heat up while I strip down. The air feels eerily chilly on my bare skin, and I know without having to think too hard that it’s more because of the owner of this bathroom than the temperature. To be honest, I’m still kind of sweating.
The spray feels good when I climb under it and close the glass door behind me. I wet my whole body down and soak my hair before grabbing the first product I find to start the process of cleansing the aura of sweat and sheep.
It’s a 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and I am objectively horrified at the level of unbothered men can get away with. Still, I lather it up and put it in my hair before using the remainder to soap up my body.
Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t take long before I’m overwhelmed by the scent of Bennett.
I try to ignore it as I scrub, but this annoying, arousing ache starts in the lowest part of my belly. And the more I inhale through my nose, the more I’m reminded that I’m naked in Bennett’s shower. That I’m scrubbing myself with his soap. And that three nights ago, while he was kissing me, I came undeniably close to experiencing an orgasm at his hands.
My fingers linger a little on my clit.
Come on, Norah. Move it along.
Okay, but really, what would it hurt? It’s not like it’s going to take a while—I haven’t come in I don’t know how long. Thomas tried—or at least, made it seem like he did—but he could never hit the spot just right. Plus, it’d probably relieve a lot of the tension I’m feeling toward my new boss. And man, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Right?
Carefully, tentatively, I swirl my finger around my clit, swiping at it at the end of each circle. At first, I’m just considering it. Just testing. Just teasing. But it ultimately feels so good—too good—that my toes curl against the tile, and I have to steady myself with a hand to the wall.
Yeah, this isn’t going to take long at all.
Decorum out the fucking window while the scent of my boss’s cleansing trio fills my head, I touch myself until my spine feels like a single puff of air could snap it.
My mind loses itself in thoughts of Friday night. The way he kissed me. The way it felt to have his hands on my body. How hard his cock felt beneath his jeans.
Heat runs through my cheeks and my belly at once, the apex of my climax just a millimeter away. Spine bowed, I let my head fall back into the warm water as all the tension in my body releases in a crashing wave of pleasure. And the entire time, I can’t help but visualize Bennett’s body over mine, his cock inside me, and his finger at my clit instead of mine.
I have to cover my mouth with my free hand to stop myself from screaming. My body shakes and my heart races as I come down from the highest peak I’ve hit in years—maybe ever.
Oh man. Talk about crossing an intimate line. Not only have I been naked in my boss’s shower, but now, I’ve also made myself come. I don’t think he had this in mind when he offered to let me use it.