After shutting the door, Saint stands completely still and rakes his eyes completely up and down my body. I inadvertently start to shiver. Trying my best to ignore the fact that every time he looks at me, he makes me feel like the most beautiful woman that he's ever seen.
"Not a morning person?" he asks. His voice raspier than normal.
"Not really."
"I thought I'd make breakfast. A little protein to start the day, and then we'll go kick that meeting's ass."
I turn to head back to my bathroom. I'm dripping wet.
"Fix something for yourself. I'm going to finish what I started."
"Sabrina."
Saint says my name a lot, but he has never said my name like this.
Thick with want.
Heavy with need.
He's always playing around, teasing me, but right this second, I think he's deadly serious and if he is ... then I'm in big trouble.
"Take off your towel. I want to look at you. All of you."
I can't move. There's a war waging inside of me. My body wants to follow every one of his directives and I think I probably have for a long time now; but my mind is reminding me that he is a client, an over-indulged athlete, and a womanizer. He and I can be nothing more. Should be nothing more.
"Turn aroundnow," he demands.
I reluctantly turn to face him.
"I just want to look at you. That's all. Open your towel for me, and remind me of what every mouth watering inch of you looks like."
Still not opening the towel.
"I've seen your body before, Sabrina. The image has been etched in my memory for three years. I just want a refresher and to take a look at how you've filled out in all the right places."
I take a deep breath and slowly untuck the towel from the top of my breasts and hold it open. My entire body is on display. It's not that I don't like my body; I do, and it's not that I think I'm unattractive. It just feels strange for a man to request to see it; that is until I look up and see the steely desire burning in Saint's eyes.
Now it feels extraordinarily sexy.
"Beautiful."
He drops the bag of groceries on the countertop and proceeds to take off his jacket. I watch with rapt attention as he deliberately takes it off slowly for my benefit. He smiles. I guess there's no hiding that I find him attractive.
After kicking off his shoes, he asks, "Now can you drop the towel completely on the floor for me, Sabrina?"
I take another deep breath of courage and do it. It's not that I'm a virgin or anything, but my sexual experiences have been limited to lots of lights off, missionary-styled relations. This exhibitionist stuff ... I'm not used to.
"Now turn around and face the table. Good girl. What a perfect ass you have, Sabrina. I can't wait to have it. Now turn back around for me."
My cheeks are burning.
This is way out of my comfort zone.
He walks towards me and holds his palm on the side of my face, using his thumb to brush gently back and forth across my cheek. He tilts my head up.
"Now I want you to relax. There's no rush. We've got at least an hour before we need to go. So take a few deep breaths for me, and hop on top of this table with your legs spread and your arms behind your back supporting you."
"Saint I–"
