Page 47

I tell her all about my first day at work, how I showed up late and unprepared. How he almost fired me right there on the spot. How stupid I must’ve looked, all disheveled and covered in ink.

“Whoa. I thought Roman was supposed to be the nice brother?” Greer’s shocked voice echoes through the bathroom. “You must’ve really pissed him off.”

“Yeah, well, I tend to do that. Don’t I?” I say as I drink straight from the cabernet bottle.

“That’s so weird. Do you think he remembers you? Maybe he’s trying to push you away, so you don’t spill his dirty little secret?”

I pluck a tiny cornichon from my charcuterie bowl, pinching it between two fingers before taking a bite. It makes a satisfying crunch. Is there anything better than girl dinner?

“I seriously doubt that. I mean, I’m the actress in this scenario, and I’m finding it hard enough to act normal around him.”

“So you do want to fuck him!”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue. We both know I’d jump at the chance for another ride. Though I seriously doubt I could get away with my anonymity a second time.

Outside my window, twinkling lights reflect off the pool. A glowing light from one of Roman’s upstairs windows lights up the room, and I find myself staring to get a better look.

If the pool house is this nice, I can’t imagine what his house must look like. The man is on a different level. He takes pride in everything he does. It’s in the way his clothes are perfectly pressed, the tidiness of his office, not a single pen out of place. I love how he gives his full attention to whoever he’s talking to, making them feel like they’re the most important person in the room.

It’s quite humbling to witness, actually, and just another reminder of all the ways we’re different. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so inferior in all my life.

The curtains are drawn open, giving me a clear view of the bedroom. The walls are off-white, and a large mahogany bed sits in the center of the room, the only light coming from the lamp on the nightstand.

A movement outside the window catches my eye and draws my attention back.

Greer’s telling me about Evie getting detention for playing in the bathroom at school, but her words fade away when a shirtless Roman steps into view.

His dirty blond hair is slicked back, and a white towel hangs low on his waist, emphasizing the deep muscular triangle that the male form does so well.

I sit up a little higher to get a better view, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head when he lets the towel fall.

A sharp gasp escapes me as my gaze sweeps over the hard lines of his body. That broad chest, those chiseled abs, his round muscular ass that’s so perfect that it looks as if it’s carved from stone. My pulse stutters, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

Holy shit, Roman Kingsley is a beautiful man. I know I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t find the strength to look away. I’m only human after all. A very flawed human, with an obviously fucked up moral compass.

I watch him perch on his bed, propping one hand behind his head as he begins to stroke himself with the other. The image has me choking on my wine, and I slap a hand to my chest, coughing as I struggle to catch my breath.

Thankfully, Greer’s so riled up about the detention, she doesn’t even notice. I add an "uh" and "no way" here and there.

The warm water suddenly feels almost too good, the slick soap gliding over my skin and making me acutely aware of every inch of my body. My breath catches as desire flickers to life, and I close my eyes, willing myself to ignore it.

“Kira? Are you still there? Did you hear me?” Greer’s voice cuts through my heavy breathing.

“Wh-what was that?” I croak out, my hands gripping the edge of the bathtub like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

My eyes zero in on his massive cock, the way his head falls back as he takes his time fucking himself. Jesus Christ, this man could make a killing if he ever pursued adult entertainment.

Greer’s groan echoes through the bathroom. “Ugh, you know I hate repeating myself. I said⁠—”

“Sorry, G, I… I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow!” I end the call and toss my phone away so I can enjoy my show distraction-free.

I sink back down, hooking my leg over the edge of the tub as my fingers find the ache between my thighs, my body already slick with arousal.

I keep my eyes trained on Roman, the way his leg stretches in front of him and his other thigh parting open, to give himself better access. His head falls back against the headboard as he fists his long, thick cock. His hand moves in slow, steady strokes up and down his shaft. His movements are slow and gentle, growing rougher and more aggressive with every stroke.

My eyes are practically glued to the window as I lean as close as I can get. I’m halfway tempted to retrieve my phone just so I can watch him through the camera’s zoom. But somehow that feels like crossing a line. Besides, I’m not coordinated enough to hold the phone and touch myself at the same time.

Again, I never claimed to be of high moral character. I know how fucked up I am for enjoying this. Probably for the same reasons it turned me on when I realized he thought I was a sex worker. Maybe that should worry me, but right now, I can’t even pretend to care. My morally gray sexual desires are the least of my concerns when I have plenty of actual problems to deal with.