“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he says, swilling the glass around.
“Apologize?” I ask.
“Yes. I didn’t really introduce myself. I got rather, uh, carried away. But I wanted to remedy that.”
I shift my weight, taking him in.
His feet are bare again, and I’m struck for a second time at how neat they are—he must spend a fortune on pedicures.
“I’m Lucas Crawford, Miss Brooks, and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. As I said yesterday, I’ll workwithyouduring our time together, and I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Is that understood?”
I nod.
“What I mean is, if I ask anything of you that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. Immediately. Without fear.”
I nod again.
“Good. Now take off your clothes. Slowly. And let me get to know you better.” He takes a sip of water and looks at me over the rim of the glass.
Jesus, this guy is direct. I can only imagine what he must be like in the boardroom.
Slowly, I slip off my shoes, and he settles back in his seat, his dark eyes watching me. He really is gorgeous, just as Annabelle said.
I begin to unbutton my shirt.
“Your hands are shaking,” he says.
I shrug a shoulder. “They always have, ever since I was little.” It’s a lie, but it seems to placate him. He nods, shuffling back in his seat again.
“I’m aware of the time, Miss Brooks,” he murmurs. “Be assured that I’m not going to touch you off the clock.”
I glance at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. It’s white like everything else, but has no numbers on it. Even so, I can see that it’s five minutes to eight. A shiver runs through me, pleasure warming my chest. I like people who do things by the book.
I pull off my shirt, throwing it over the chair opposite his desk, where my jacket was yesterday. He doesn’t speak as I take off my skirt and pantyhose. I pause as I reach my panties, wondering what he’d prefer. Should I turn around? I’ve seen that turns men on in porn.
But he says nothing, and I slip them off my legs, the bra following shortly afterward.
He stays seated, his eyes running over me hungrily. I force myself not to fidget; self-conscious and exposed in this quiet, strangely white room.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says lightly, sipping his drink.
He wants me to tell him about myself, while naked in his office?
“What would you like to know?” I ask.
His eyes are staring at my pussy, and I can see the outline of his cock in his pants. I’m surprised to feel something like satisfaction pass through me. It’s powerful, knowing I caused that reaction in him.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Uh…Brooklyn.”
He licks his lips. “How long have you lived there?”
“All my life.”
“And remind me how old you are?”
“Twenty-four.”
