My hand swats her ass, and Maddy squeaks happily before finally hopping out of my lap. She swipes another cookie, then sashays to the study door, her hips swaying in her ridiculous outfit. The clothes don’t matter. It works for me.
“Sweet dreams, your lordship.” Maddy winks from the doorway as she pulls the door closed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hope so.
For the sake of my sanity… I hope so.
Six
Maddy
Ihold out until mid-morning, but it’s no use. I can’t spend the whole day cleaning in this state. It’s a lost cause.
Every time my housemaid’s dress whispers against my legs, my breath catches and my nipples harden into beads. As I push the vacuum cleaner around a stately reception room, my core temperature climbs and climbs, my low belly twisting in anticipation, until I’m fit to combust.
All I can think of is West, and the hungry way he kissed me back last night. The rigid line of his cock beneath me. His heat and strength and the deep rumble of his voice. Honestly, I can’t believe I was ever so bold as to sit in my boss’s lap and kiss him square on the mouth, but now that I have?
I’m hooked.
And I can’t dust or sweep or vacuum for another sexually frustrated minute.
Glancing guiltily around the room, I abandon my work supplies right where I stand, not even bothering to unplug thevacuum cleaner from the wall. I’ll come back for this stuff later, okay?
Right now, I have a lord to find.
I check his study first, naturally, but the room is empty, cold ash in the grate. Books line the shelves that cover most of the walls, but they’re no help. Nerves squirm in my belly at the sight of the desk—the scene of last night’s crime—and my palm grows damp where it clutches the door knob.
He’s not here. Damn.
Where the hell is West?
I hurry to his private wing of the manor next, checking the lord’s personal rooms, but there’s no one here at all. His bed is neatly made, and the walls are lined with yet more bookshelves, while virtually every free surface is populated with a plant pot or five. An indoor jungle. The rug on the floor looks old but expensive, like it was handwoven by artisans in a far off country.
My lips press together as I linger in the doorway, warring with myself.
A big part of me wants to tiptoe inside, root through West’s drawers, then bury my face in his pillow and inhale, searching for his woodsy scent. Drowning myself in intimate details of him. Those urges arebarelyheld in check by the sane part of me, my inner good girl, who lectures me about privacy and boundaries as I force myself to close West’s bedroom door.
Another time.
Next I try the kitchen. Mrs Ainslie spares me a single glance, then goes back to clanging pots and pans and stirring a giant vat of casserole as it billows steam. The air in here smells like rosemary, tomato and garlic. My stomach growls automatically, but it’s not the casserole that I’m starving for. Not really.
“Have you seen West?” I ask from the doorway.
Mrs Ainslie yanks out a drawer, rooting through stainless steel implements. “Didn’t catch that. Speak up, girl.”
I clear my throat, cheeks growing hot. “Have you seen Lord Westmore? He asked me to, um. To bring him something.”
Mrs Ainslie tosses one shoulder in a clear sign for:I could not care less.Well, at least she’s not grilling me on why the boss who famously hates me suddenly wants me to play fetch. That would be awkward.
“He was out in the grounds last I saw through the window.” The kitchen windows are almost entirely fogged over, but a small circle is still clear in the center of each pane. Like a row of little portholes out onto the island. “Marching over to his greenhouse.”
My heart lifts, but I force myself to hold back. To nod casually, and act like Idon’twant to sprint hell for leather across the grounds.
“Okay, cool. Thanks.”
When I open the back door, the cold slap of salty winter air is a shock to my overheated skin. Goosebumps erupt on my bare arms and legs, and I start to shiver. I shove the door closed behind me, careful to wedge it shut because the last thing I want is Mrs Ainslie out for my blood.
I’m not that brave. No one is.
