As the lift takes us smoothly up to the penthouse, he stares at me. And I stare at him. A glance in the mirror over his shoulder tells me he’s roughed me up pretty well, too. My lips are swollen, my lipstick long gone, and my hair is a mussed-up mass of curls.
‘I’ll put her in bed, and then I’m all yours.’
It sounds more like a threat than a promise.
‘Do you want some help with her?’ My voice comes out in a squeak.
He smiles. ‘No, baby. I’ve got it. Just wait for me in my bedroom.’
Shit shit shit. His bedroom, of irresistible man smell and battered pillow fame. I. Am going to be in. It. With. Him. Naked.
My face must reflect every one of those thoughts, because he grins and shakes his head at me as the lift doors open.
‘Close your mouth.’ He winks. ‘For now, anyway.’
I gape at him as I trot down the corridor after him. He isrude.
Housekeeping has been in to perform a turndown service on Miles’ room, so it’s immaculate, but it still smells like him, and that gives me a hell of a kick. This is the mysterious lair he emerges from each morning, fondling that dratted tie. Now I’m here, in the inner sanctum, where he sleeps, dreams, and possibly… does other things… that may involve thinking about me.
Oh my God.
I wriggle out of my tights—gussets have never and will never be sexy—and brush my teeth with a toothbrush from a spare vanity kit I find in the well-stocked master bathroom. This room is incredible. I eye the enormous twin shower. The idea of being in there with Miles… Or in that oval marble bathtub. I let out a shuddery breath as I spit.
I’m back in the bedroom, hovering uselessly, when he appears and shuts the door quietly behind him. He pads over to me and slides both his hands around my waist, pulling me towards him. I love his hands. I ogle them when he pours out my tea in the mornings. Strong but slim. Manly, but withlong, tapering fingers that are now bunching up the silk around my hips.
Holy moly.
This is happening.
‘Did she settle okay?’
‘She didn’t even stir when I put her nightie on. She’s completely knackered.’
‘Poor little pet.’
‘She had a ball. But I don’t think anyone had as good a night as me.’
His hands move up over my waist and rib cage as he stares at me. I do what I’ve wanted to do since puke-gate and put my hands flat on his chest, either side of his tie. I have a little grope.
Yep, he’s still stacked.
I touch his tie. Slide a finger under it, lifting it up before letting it drop back down.
‘Every morning, when I have to watch you knot your tie, it’s like torture.’
I’m rewarded with a little smile. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. And I ogle your back muscles. They get all bulgy under your shirt when you’re tying it.’
He laughs now. ‘Bulgy? You like things that bulge, do you? If so, you’re in luck tonight.’
‘I hope so.’ I think I’m breathing a bit too heavily already.
He pulls me right up against him, and his hands move to my bum and begin to knead it. He’s definitely already bulging; his erection’s prodding me just above my pelvic bone and I make a little noise at the feel of it, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.Thereare those muscles, flexing under my hands.
He groans. ‘Saoirse, Saoirse. God, you’ll be the death of me. I’ve been thinking about you for weeks now, like somecreep, and haven’t been able to stop. If I had any confidence you felt the same, I would have made a move a lot sooner.’
Yep.
