‘Great,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘You guys get started. I have a few calls to make,’ Ethan says.
A few calls to make? Does he, indeed?
Natasha shows me the whole downstairs area—and she has done an incredible job. It’s beautiful. Artistic while still achieving a degree of homely comfort. The fittings are classic and top-quality and I can see Ethan living here. Relaxing here. It suits him.
My gut twists at the very idea of his inhabiting this space full-time. We move upstairs into another living room, then into a guest room. A bed! Hallelujah. Perhaps he’ll start spending more time here, rather than at the hotel? He’d be so close to me...
My phone rings and I pause our tour.
‘Sorry,’ I say, lifting it from my bag, about to decline the call when I see Ethan’s name on the screen. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’
‘Take your time. I need to measure the windows again for the drapes,’ Natasha answers.
I step out of the room, into the hallway, and swipe to answer.
‘Yes?’ I snap, conscious that Natasha can probably still hear my end of the conversation.
‘You look amazing.’
I turn away, pace a little further down the hallway and lower my voice. ‘Thank you. I didn’t realise you’d assembled the whole team.’
His laugh is like melted caramel. ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you having fun?’
‘I had a different kind of fun in mind,’ I say honestly.
He laughs again. ‘Soon. Remember? Foreplay...’
‘You’re enjoying this.’
‘Not as much as I’ll be enjoying you, believe me. Have you reached my bedroom yet?’
I lift my head and look down the hallway. ‘No. It’s next.’
‘When you get there I want you to imagine yourself naked in the middle of the bed. Arms outstretched. Fingers curled around the bedposts as I return the favour you gave me at the hotel. I want you to look at that bed and imagine me going down on you until you can barely speak.’
My breath is rushed and I know my cheeks are bright pink. A noise—a creaking floorboard—draws my attention to the stairs. He is walking up them, phone clasped under his ear.
‘Think you can do that for me?’ he murmurs, his eyes locked to mine.
A slick of need pools between my legs.
Natasha or not, I want to run to him, launch myself at him and strip him naked.
I disconnect the call and slide my phone into my bag, using the act to hide my face and eyes from him.
‘Everything okay, Miss Douglas?’ he asks as he approaches.
My eyes are wide in my face as I force myself to look at him. ‘Oh, perfectly,’ I respond, with obvious annoyance.
Except it’s not annoyance with him; it’s annoyance at not being able to have him. It’s desire and white-hot need. It’s fierce and uncontrollable and it’s consuming me, despite the fact I have not long left his bed.
‘Are you sure?’
He brings his body close to mine and pushes me backwards, so that I connect with the wall. We are only metres from the guest room, but he braces himself beside me, partially blocking me from Natasha’s view. His fingers move straight to me, touching my most sensitive cluster of nerves through the fabric of my pants.
Did I really think Natasha’s being here would stop him—stop this—the inevitability of what we are? He holds my eyes as he moves his fingers in a circular motion, and when I suck in a breath he lifts a finger to my lips.
‘Shh,’ he says, with a smile on his face.
I don’t know if I can be quiet.
I don’t know if I can stop this.
I know I should. I know this is unprofessional and that I have a reputation to think about. But I also have a body that is starving for its next fix, and he’s offering it to me on a silver platter.
‘Come for me, baby. Come without making a sound.’
He moves faster and I press myself down, rolling my hips, begging him with my body to make love to me.
I can feel the orgasm building. I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself screaming out, but my silence makes the sensation all the more intense.
Heat is burning me—I am turning to ash.
He sees the moment I explode and he brings his mouth to my ear, buzzing his lips over my earlobe and whispering against me.