“No,” Grenadine and McKenna chorused.
“Here.” Grenadine flipped to another page, where there was a full-page spread of a photo of a woman’s reproductive parts. “See how she starts low? She doesn’t just go to the cockpit and start pushing buttons. Don’t immediately attack the clit, or you’ll get rug burn. You want a warm-up first, get the juices flowing. There are glands here, here, and here.”
“You need a vibrator,” McKenna said, turning me around in the chair. “Go straight to the source and stop all this hippie bullshit.”
“I knowwhat you were doing at Mr. Richmond’s penthouse last night.”
I jumped in my chair when Anthym’s voice slithered over me.
McKenna crossed herself.
“I wasn’t—I wasn’t doing anything,” I stammered.
“Exactly,” Anthym said in a mocking tone. “That’s why there was still food in the fridge when the chef came by with this week’s food.”
“Can’t he just move it all to the fridge in the catering kitchen, and I can come pick it up later?”
Anthym sneered. “I told him to just throw it away.”
“No!” I cried.
Anthym was immediately suspicious.
“You have to sort the trash,” I said in a rush. “I bet the chef didn’t sort out the plastic and separate the organic waste.”
“Yeah, I bet he didn’t because that’s your job.” Anthym stabbed her manicured nail at me. “You’re on thin ice, Lexi. Get it together.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now go pick up Mr. Richmond’s dry cleaning. Then you need to find a gift suitable for the head of the Berlin office. We’re flying out in a couple of days. Don’t embarrass me. Bring me several choices tomorrow so I can review.”
After picking up the dry cleaning, I raced over to the penthouse and rushed to the fridge. It was packed with all the new food.
I felt horrible. Grayson hated the thought of wasting food.
I crossed my fingers as I went to the catering kitchen because, yes, this penthouse had not just a show kitchen but acatering kitchen off of the ballroom, along with a kitchenette in the home theater. The chef came every day to prepare Grayson’s meals and leave them for him in the main fridge.
Surely a chef wasn’t going to sit there and throw out a bunch of food. Surely not.
I cackled when I saw the catering fridge stuffed full of food, including the leftovers from Alessio.
“Score!”
I was feeling light as a feather as I took the dry cleaning upstairs.
I hadn’t meant to do it on his bed, but as soon as I stepped in the master bedroom, it was like I had started salivating. Everything went wet. I tried to ignore it as I carried the dry cleaning to Grayson’s closet.
Then I allowed myself the indulgence of lying back on his bed. I inhaled the scent of him on the comforter. That explosion that had been building inside of me yesterday was aching to come out.
I had barely so much as read a steamy romance novel let alone …that… but McKenna was right. I needed to at the very least know if I sounded like a dying dolphin when I came.
“It can’t take that long,” I decided as I kicked off the high-heeled shoes and shimmied off the pantyhose.
Heart pounding, I leaned back on the king-sized bed and let my hand sneak down under my skirt. I gasped when my fingers touched the aching slit between my legs.
I unbuttoned my top, imaging it was Grayson, his fingersthere,pinching and teasing my nipple as his large hands stroked between my legs.
“Grayson,” I moaned as I stroked myself.
