Daniel rinses everything clean and shuts off the shower, stepping out and grabbing a big towel. He dries me off and then quickly does the same to himself before guiding me to the bedroom. We’re both nude, but that feels right as he pulls back the meticulously smoothed blankets.
“Climb in,” he says softly, and I sag to the soft surface, my body immediately relaxing in relief. He climbs in behind me, wrapping me in his arms.
I just decided something monumental. Naked cuddling, with me engulfed in Daniel’s strong arms, is my favorite place on Earth. This replaces any other place I might’ve considered my favorite before, none of which I can actually remember right now because it would require too much brain power. Brain power I do not have when my head is full of cotton fluff.
I want more, to feel him in my body the way he’s been in my mind. And though I wouldn’t say it aloud, I’m truthful to myself and add . . . the way he’s in my heart. I snuggle back, wiggling against him and arching my back, but he kisses my neck, stopping me.
“Sleep, Tiffany.”
I grunt in surprised disappointment that he’s turning me down, even though I’m so tired I can’t even find words.
Daniel notices and kisses my neck again, whispering into my ear. “It’s not that. I want you, but you need to sleep. So let me take care of you this way.”
His words are kind, but more so, they’re powerful and unlock something deep in my soul, a quiet need I never give voice to but he instinctively knows I have. In response, I snuggle deeper into the circle of his arms and he murmurs into my hair, “Good girl.”
He can’t see my face, but I can feel the small smile on my lips as I close my eyes.
Sleep must come fast, hard, and silently, because what seems like only a moment later but must be hours, I sit up in my bright, morning lit bedroom. I rarely see it in this light, up in the dark of the morning to go to work and home after the sun sets.
My brain is already clicking through my calendar for the day as guilt blossoms for not already being at the office. What if something happens without me there? It’s okay, I reassure myself. They’re not going to blow up . . . probably.
Megan and Stephanie are good and have been trained well by the best. Me. But I can’t help reaching for my phone on the nightstand. As I dial, I notice the emptiness of the bed beside me, which is echoed by an emptiness in my belly.
But I’m not hungry. I’m curious where Daniel has gone because I woke up alone.
Did he leave?
Did he head home or into work after telling me to rest?
Megan picks up, her voice cheery and professional as always. “Thank you for calling Fox Industries. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Megan,” I reply, “It’s Tiff. Sorry I ghosted this morning. How’s everything going?”
“Ghosted?” Megan replies, sounding surprised. “Stephanie and I saw your email saying you were taking a personal day. Is everything okay?”
“Email?” I ask stupidly, and it hits me like a punch in the chest, but maybe a good one?
Daniel.
He knew I would worry about work and must’ve emailed my team so I could sleep in after the late night. That’s very kind of him, but I wonder why he didn’t do the same.
He’s the CEO, Tiffany. He’s not the type of man who can spontaneously blow off work, nor is he one who would.
He did before.
That was on a weekend, not a Tuesday morning. And not after finding out that there’s something happening with an acquisition proposal and our internal team.
“Tiff?”
“Yeah, uh, everything’s fine. Had some drama at the doggie daycare last night and didn’t crash until a few hours ago. I just woke up, so I guess I forgot about the email.”
“Oh, no, I get it,” Megan says. “But we’re good. Relax, catch up on your sleep. It’s important.”
She says it as though sleep is the cure-all for anything and everything that ails you. But I’m pretty sure that’s because Megan has never had body-rocking orgasms that leave you an unconscious jelly blob on the nearest flat surface. Compared to that, sleep is highly overrated.
“Anything going on that I need to know about?”
“Like what we talked about yesterday, you mean?” she asks delicately, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“Yes, like that.” I’m slightly amused that she’s whispering over the phone. This isn’t the CIA, and nobody’s going to sneak up on you, Megan.
“No, it’s pretty quiet around here. Other than Ricky and Billy stalking around like bodyguards without a body to guard,” Megan says. “Guess they’re bored since Mr. Stryker is out today.”
“What?” I say too sharply.