Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
So what if I'm her boss? We're not at the office. In fact, we're thousands of miles away from it. She's my only employee here. Tomorrow, my brothers will be here, but for now, it's just the two of us. We can do whatever we want and no one will know. And then when we're done, we can just carry on with work as usual. We can do that. We're adults. Professionals. We can keep a secret.
I place my hand on the tiles. Tempting. Very tempting. The thing is, it's not up to me. Sure, Stella may want it, but she has to agree to it. And she can't just hint at it. She has to say it. She has to come to me. Maybe if I give her a bit of a tug, she'll jump into my lap?
I shake my head. Enough of this madness. I've had a long day. I have a big one tomorrow. I should be thinking of work, not of my cock.
I let the shower do its work, then step out. I dry myself, put on the robe that's hanging from the peg on the wall and walk to my desk. I turn on my computer and get busy.
After a while, I stop. I should probably be going to sleep, but I'm not sleepy yet. I pour myself a glass of Scotch and head to the balcony for some fresh air. To my surprise, Stella is also on hers, bent over the balustrade with her gaze on the horizon, her hair cascading past her shoulders and billowing as a breeze passes by. She's in the same bathrobe I am, but I can't help but think she looks better in it. I also can't help but wonder what she's wearing underneath - if she's wearing anything, that is.
Just then, she turns her head. Our gazes meet. I feel mine broaden slightly as her amber eyes grow wide as saucers. Her lips part. Her cheeks take on a rosy hue. She hides them under her hair as she straightens up and turns away.
Why? Her reaction seems too much to be just because she didn't expect to see me. She must have considered the possibility since our rooms are next to each other. Is it because I've once again caught her with her guard down? Or is it because I've caught her doing something she thinks she shouldn't be doing - like thinking of me, for example?
Has she been thinking of me just as much as I've been thinking of her?
I sip my Scotch. "Can't sleep?"
"Yes," Stella answers. "Must be the jet lag."
"Must be."
"I thought I'd be tired enough to be able to sleep, but I guess I'm not. I thought the wine would help, too, but maybe I need something stronger."
I glance at the liquid in my glass and then at her. "Want some Scotch?"
Her eyebrows arch. Then she waves her hand in front of her.
"No, thanks. I..."
"I've got plenty," I tell her.
She shakes her head. "I... I don't drink Scotch."
And yet, she's looking at my glass.
I lift it to my lips. "You just said you needed something stronger. This might do the trick."
Still, Stella hesitates. Her eyebrows furrow as she taps her fingers on her arm.
One more push.
"You know, if you don't get your beauty sleep it will be a problem for me, too. I need you to be at your best tomorrow."
That does it. She lets out a sigh and gives in.
"Fine. I'll give it a try."
I nod. "Come on over and I'll pour you a glass."
The moment I finish speaking, I realize what I've just done - exactly what I was planning earlier. I've reeled her in. I've invited her to my room. And she's accepted. Just like that. For a second, I think of rescinding my invitation, but it's too late. Stella has already left the balcony.
I finish my drink and head to the door. By the time I open it, she's standing outside.
Isn't this going a little too fast? Nonsense. I've been waiting too long already.
I step back. "Come in."
It's her last chance to turn back - and she doesn't. She wraps her robe tighter around herself and walks straight to the balcony.
I grab the bottle of Scotch and another glass and join her. I pour the drinks and hand her one.
"Thank you," Stella says as she shifts her body towards me.
As she sips her Scotch, my gaze wanders to the bare thigh peeking from under her robe. I'm guessing she's not wearing shorts or a chemise. Underwear?
My eyes go back to her face just as it scrunches up in an expression of distaste.
"Too strong?" I ask her.
"A little."
She sets down her glass and leans over the balustrade. This time, I catch a glimpse of her cleavage. No bra either?
"This view is beautiful, isn't it?" she says.