I had hoped he’d be on his way back by now. I’m itching to sit down and have a conversation with him, to get a sense of what to expect. How will our nightly routine unfold? Will this become the norm—him working late, while I wait in limbo? With nothing better to do, I run a bath to wash away the grime from unpacking.
After checking in on Beth earlier, I made the most of being alone to explore every inch of his home. Invasive and creepy? Probably… But the urge to snoop was too hard to resist. I craved any morsel of information that might offer a glimpse into the man I’ll be serving for the next twelve months.
When I eventually made my way upstairs and reached his bedroom door, I hesitated, lingering on the threshold. There’s something taboo about entering someone else’s private sanctuary without their permission. I would hate it if someone went rifling through my personal space. Yet, my curiosity got the better of me, and after a brief pause, I stepped inside.
I took my time exploring, rummaging through the contents of the nightstands, the walk-in closet, and the bathroom, but found nothing of real interest. It was mildly disappointing, to be honest. I’m not entirely sure what I had hoped to uncover—something,anything, that would shed some light on the enigma that is Dameon Hayward. Instead, all I garnered was his expectation that I would share his room rather than use the spare bedroom (since my luggage had been delivered here), and his over-the-top orderliness. I briefly entertained the idea of messing up the meticulously arranged suits in his wardrobe just to see if he would notice they weren’t two inches apart anymore.
Stepping into the scalding embrace of the bathwater, I sigh as the heat prickles against my skin. Eyes closed, I draw in a few deep breaths, allowing the steam to fill my lungs and transport me to my usual place of calm and serenity. Then I grab my phone and hit the Play button on my familiar playlist, the pop ballads providing a soothing backdrop to my thoughts as I scroll through my notifications.
One particular email catches my attention—from a Dr. Isla Romey, Dameon’s physician. She wants my consent to access my medical records from my gynecologist for a review of my birth control regimen. Birth control is a routine requirement for all goddesses, but I totally understand why Dameon would want his own doctor to double-check. With a quick response, I send back my approval and set my phone aside on the tiled floor.
With Taylor Swift belting out her heartache into the thick steam of the bathroom air, I reach for the box of pad Thai beside my phone. Twirling the noodles around my fork, I find myself wondering whether this is just a preview of the next twelve months. In truth, it’s not much different from a typical night at home, except I’m getting paid big bucks to chill in this fancy bathtub. I swallow down the guilt that threatens to rise back up.
Two hours later, I emerge from the bath and lounge on Dameon’s bed with my Kindle, but I can’t shake off the uneasiness. It feels odd being in someone’s bed for the first time… without them. I’m unsure of what to do with myself. What if I’ve wrongly assumed that I’m wanted here in his bed? Should I play it safe and move into the spare room? And what do I wear? Sure, the contract said he wants me naked, but since we haven’t officially started yet…
I slip out of my negligée and ease myself under the covers.
Fuck, this is awkward.
Just as I’m about to reach for my negligée again, the bedroom door swings open.
“Hey! You didn’t have to wait up for me.” He flashes that heart-stopping smile, complete with those captivating dimples.
“That’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Internally I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not kicking me out of his bed.
“You all unpacked and settled?” he asks, already in the process of shedding his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Yep, all sorted.”
“Great. I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick.” He peels off his shirt and heads into the bathroom, dressed in only his suit pants, a sight I could easily get used to seeing every night.
When the sound of the shower fills the room, I gnaw at my thumbnail. Should I join him? But then again, he did say we’d start tomorrow. If he wanted me to join him, he would have asked, right?
Argh!
Fuck it, I’m going in. If he doesn’t want me there, he can ask me to leave. With a determined huff, I throw off the covers and pad to the bathroom. As I push open the door, the steam from the shower carries the rich sandalwood scent of his body wash, hitting me squarely in the face. I pause, taking in the sight before me—the water cascading down his muscular back, his toned ass on full display through the glass shower screen. I resist the urge to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth.
He turns around, his lips tilting up when he catches me staring. With a playful challenge in his gaze, he continues to soap up his body, tempting me.
Trust me, I don’t need any encouragement.
His eyes roam over my naked body, and he tightens his fist on his hard cock, lazily stroking it from base to tip. I wet my lips instinctively, and his eyes zero in on the movement. He grows even harder before my eyes, and I need no further invitation.
I sway my hips toward him, and his hungry eyes devour every inch of my body. Stepping into the billowing steam of the shower, I’m met with a firm grip on my jaw as he attacks my lips with his own. The force of the kiss presses me back against the cool tiles, and I gasp in surprise.
He skillfully slips his tongue inside, setting off a wildfire of sensation. The kiss feels endless, and I’m lost in the heat of his body, intoxicated by the scent of his body wash and the taste of his lips. In this moment, nothing else exists but the feel of his lips consuming mine.
He pulls away abruptly and lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. With a swift movement, he maneuvers us to the other side of the shower, stepping under the cascading water and soaking me in the process. I must look like a drowned rat, but that thought disappears the instant he presses my back against the tiled wall, shielding me from the spray with his body. When I look up into his stormy green eyes, I’m lost in their depths and sudden intensity.
He ravishes my mouth and slides into me effortlessly, as if he knows my body better than I do—a beacon finding its way home in the dark. Despite his tight fit, I’m able to take him in one thrust.
He pounds into me with relentless passion, gripping my thighs tightly to support my weight. Pinning me against the tiled wall, he hits all those spots inside me that make my eyes cross.
“Fuck.” I gasp for breath, the steam thick in my lungs. This is far more intimate than our quickie earlier, way too intimate. I break eye contact first, biting down on his shoulder to stifle the overwhelming connection. His groan is deliciously filthy, and I want to hear it again.
He slows his pace, punctuating each thrust with a force that threatens to unravel me completely.
“I’m gonna come,” I manage to choke out as my walls begin to collapse around him.
