Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Get out,” she sighs groggily.
I continue walking down to Sammy’s room.
“Sammy, wake up, little angel,” I call as I walk in and sit on the end of his bed. We have a morning routine now. He crawls out of bed, onto my lap, and we cuddle for a few minutes until he wakes properly.
“Good morning.” I kiss his perfect little forehead, and he snuggles in closer. “How’s my little man today?” I ask.
“Good,” he mumbles sleepily.
We sit for a moment longer. “Get yourself washed up and I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”
He nods and toddles off to the bathroom, leaving m
“Miss Brielle?” Mr. Masters calls from his room.
What the hell? I walk into his bedroom to find him with a white towel wrapped around his waist, and he’s shaving in his bathroom mirror.
My eyes widen.
“W-what are you doing home?”
He smiles at my obvious shock. “I do believe I live here.”
I shake my head. “I meant, why aren’t you at work?”
He carefully guides the razor down his cheek through the shaving cream, and I swallow the lump in my throat. The power radiating from his body nearly kills my ovaries, it wrestles them unconscious.
“I don’t have court this week. I have a scheduled break as I have conference meetings. Take a seat, please. I need to talk to you for a moment.” He concentrates on his jawline.
My heart begins to beat faster. “Okay,” I whisper. My eyes roam over his bare, muscular back, then over his rippled abdomen. He has a trail of dark hair that runs from his navel, disappearing beneath the towel. My mouth goes dry.
He’s just so…
I get a vision of his head between my legs the other night and I begin to tingle. This is one hell of a morning show.
I take a seat on his freshly made bed and glance around nervously. The room smells like him—like chocolate body paint that’s crying out to be worn.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Unfortunately, I have a very busy week and will need you to do a few extra hours, if that’s okay.” He hesitates. “Of course, you will be financially compensated.”
“Sure,” I mutter. God, I wish we had these naked bathroom meetings every morning. This is definitely a sight for the spank bank.
I’ve never actually seen a man with a body this good.
He’s chiseled, muscular, and so, so masculine.
“I won’t be home tonight as I have to go out if that’s all right, but I won’t be home too late,” he says, snapping me out of my little fluffy white towel fantasy.
“Sure.”
I roll my lips to stop my tongue from hanging out while I watch him.
Honestly, this is next level perving. I wish I could take a photo for Emerson. She wouldn’t believe what I’m seeing right here.
That’s if I could frigging tell Emerson. Ugh.
Julian turns toward me and my eyes drop to his broad chest and the scattering of dark hair that dusts it. I can see every muscle in his stomach.
Drop the towel, drop the towel, drop the towel.
“… need from me,” he finishes.
“Huh?” Shit. I forgot he was talking, and my eyes snap up to meet his. “Sorry. What did you say?”
He smiles a knowing smile. Damn it. I totally just got busted drooling over him. “I said… Is that all you need from me?”
“Erm.” My eyes drop down to his crotch, and then back up to his face. “That’s all I need from you, sir.”
He chuckles as he washes the razor under the hot water, his eyes ablaze with naughtiness.
Something’s different about him today. What is it?
“You seem to be especially mischievous today, Mr. Masters?” I smirk.
He smiles as he continues to shave. “Perhaps it’s the company I’m keeping.”
I smile as I walk out of the room. “You’d better concentrate or you’ll cut your pretty face.”
“It’s handsome, not pretty,” he calls after me, and I smile to myself as I walk down the stairs.
He’s certainly right about that one.
I’m fuming. A big, bubbling cauldron of anger is about to blow over within me.
This serves me right. I knew something like this was about to happen, and now I can’t even tell Emerson what’s really going on.
“Why are we here again?” Emerson asks.
I narrow my eyes as I look at the restaurant across the road from us. “We’re
spying,” I mutter quietly.
Hank looks over as he licks his ice cream. “On who?”
It’s 9:30 p.m. and I’m in an ice cream shop with Emerson and Hank—Emerson’s flatmate.
He’s an odd looking fellow as well as a raging virgin, but I really like him. We met when he came out with us on Saturday night and it is Em’s—and my—new mission to get him laid.
“Julian has a date tonight,” I tell them moodily.
Emerson screws up her face. “So?”
“So… I want to see who this Bernadette is, with her stupid toffee voice?”