Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Instinct bypassed thought, and I grabbed her wrist and yanked. “Get in here.” As an afterthought, I picked the robe up off the floor before slamming the door behind us. “What the hell were you doing in the hallway dressed like that?”
“Coming to see you,” she said simply. My sluggish brain was taking in more and more details. The black high heels. The way the fishnet stockings made her legs look a mile long. The fluffy little skirt that barely covered her panties—if she was wearing any. That thought made my cock jump in my jeans, but it didn’t explain her appearance. Her hair was piled high, with loose, curly tendrils hanging down. She even had a lacy white cap in her hair, just a small thing, but it completed the look. And holy shit, what a look it was.
Which didn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t be seeing her like this in the first place. I tried to sling the robe around her shoulders, but she merely stepped to the side, and the damn thing fell to the floor again.
What the fuck was going on? I ran a shaky hand through my hair, the way Ian did when he was frustrated by his classes. I was feeling many things—confusion, exasperation, and an overwhelming desire for the exquisite creature in front of me. Frustration wasn’t on the list. Not anymore.
“Did anyone see you like this?”
“Only you.”
Okay, that was good, but what I didn’t know was why she was here in the first place. “Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not a good idea.”
“Perhaps,” she said lightly. “But I had to try.”
“Why?” I was utterly perplexed. Ian and Grant were worried about me too, but they hadn’t shown up looking like this and offering me god knew what.
Her neutral expression—the one she used when she served dinner—gave way to concern. “Theo, I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
I scoffed. “Really? Well, maybe I can’t stand seeing you like—” Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? She looked amazing. Like every wet dream I’d ever had rolled into one.
I turned away, trying not to ogle her. That day she’d interviewed, when Bennett had produced the skimpy little costume, I’d thought that she’d look great in it. But now I knew better. Great was an understatement. By a lot.
A delicate finger stoked my shoulder. I had on a long-sleeve t-shirt, but it was like her touch seared a hole through my shirt.
“Don’t,” I said, still not looking at her.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist you.” She moved closer, clutching my arm from behind, and pressing against me. Pressing her breasts against me to be more accurate. “Do I seem like I want you to resist? I trust you.”
I whirled around, shaking my arm out of her grasp. Were all virgins this naive, or only her? “Hailey, you shouldn’t trust any man—not when you look like that.”
She smiled, running her hands down her body, smoothing out the skirt—or what there was of it. Then she grinned up at me and gave a cheeky little curtsy.
Jesus, give me strength.
“Can I give you a massage?” she asked. The thought of her touching me—dressed like that—almost made my cock burst out of my jeans. But she didn’t know what she was asking. I shook my head, but she saw me start to speak and jumped in ahead of me.
“How about I just rub your shoulders? That’ll feel good, right?” She took my hand—shy, sweet little Hailey took my hand and led me over to my desk chair. “Sit,” she urged.
Shit. How the hell had my evening ended up here? I sat heavily in the chair, fairly certain that if she’d told me to climb up on my drafting table and flash anyone on the sidewalk out front, I would have.
I leaned forward, putting my head in my hands. This was wrong.
She moved in behind me, and the ruffles from her short little skirt brushed past my bicep. Then her warm hands were on my shoulders, and she pulled back, making me straighten up.
“Just relax,” she urged, but there was no fucking way I could relax with her pressed against my back like that. In fact, I was pretty sure that certain body parts would never stand down again.
Her hands plunged into my hair, her fingers pressing against my scalp. I opened my mouth, one more time, to try to talk some sense into her, but damn, that felt good. She kneaded and rubbed me with strong little fingers, and I leaned back in my chair in spite of myself.
Her nimble fingers slid down my neck, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. Then she squeezed my shoulders with a surprisingly strong grip. All that housecleaning had made her hands strong.
Crap. My eyes closed and I tried to relax and enjoy the sensations—but the monster in my jeans wanted more.