The four-poster bed was lush and massive, the mattress like a cloud. The pictures on the walls showed close-ups of flowers, silky-smooth leaves, bright pops of color.
I idly wondered if Fin had taken the pictures. They looked professional, but very personal, intimate too.
Tonight, we’d be discussing my responsibilities, but first he told me we’d be dining together. He said after I was settled, I was to come downstairs, that he had the local caterer deliver dinner.
It was just dinner.
Yet it felt like so much more for some reason.
I changed out of my cut-off shorts and T-shirt, feeling that I was too exposed, too unprofessional. Instead, I slipped on a black dress, the hem falling to my knees. There was a white Peter Pan collar at my throat. And the sleeves were these cute little capped ones. Not too much skin showing and hopefully made me look like he hadn’t made a mistake hiring me, that he wouldn’t regret it.
I was nervous. And I had no idea why. No, that was a lie, a fabrication I told myself to try to make this easier. Because as soon as I’d seen Finland Hawthorne standing on the other side of that front door, something in me shifted. I felt the world tilt under my feet, the air become thinner, the temperature rising.
He had this raw animal magnetism to him, and it was so potent, so powerful that it gripped its claws into my body and refused to let go. And I didn’t want it to release me. I wanted it to pull me in, to consume me, to take the world and reality away and just let me live in this fantasy.
I walked over to the bedroom door but stopped before opening it. I closed my eyes and just breathed in and out for several long moments, willing my heart to slow, my pulse to be steady. I could do this, keep things strictly work related, keep my emotions in check.
But I’d never felt this kind of connection to someone before, and certainly never imagined having it with a virtual stranger.
And the way he looked at me, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right into my soul, made me feel that maybe this wasn’t one-sided.
I opened my eyes and cleared my throat, straightening my shoulders and reaching for the knob all simultaneously.
I made my way out of the room and down the stairs, heading into first the kitchen, seeing it was empty, and then wandering around for a moment before I found the dining room. I noticed the table first. It was long, polished, and ornate. The edges were raw, giving it a rustic look, but the top was glossy, giving it a classy appearance.
The table was already set, the food under silver trays and platters. I wondered if Fin had done it. He didn’t seem like the type of man to do domestic things, yet I really knew nothing about him aside from the generic business side of Finland Hawthorne that I found online.
I didn’t see the man in question and just stood there, not knowing if I should take a seat or wait for him to show.
Only a minute passed before I felt him. He stood right behind me, his very presence rocking me to the core. My awareness was heightened, every erogenous zone coming alive.
I felt the heat from him slamming into my back and actually forcing me to close my eyes.
“Ms. Monsieur,” he said in that deliciously deep voice of his.
“Kitty,” I said before I could stop myself. “Please, call me Kitty.”
He moved around me then, and I told myself not to shiver as his shoulder brushed against me, to keep myself level. It was hard. So damn hard.
My head didn’t even reach his shoulders, and I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides as feminine appreciation washed through me at that fact.
He walked up to the table, gripped the back of one of the chairs, and pulled it out. Then he just stood there and stared at me, this unspoken demand for me to take a seat.
I licked my lips and took that first step, each one after becoming harder for some reason. And when I finally sat down, I felt him push the chair in a little bit more. I felt him so close to me, and I swore I heard him inhale close to my ear, as if he were taking in my very essence.
I couldn’t breathe as I watched him walk around to the other side of the table, taking his seat across from me. He seemed worlds away, and after a second, it was as if he realized that too, because he let out a rough grumble before taking his place setting and standing.
He walked back over to me, and I felt my eyes widen when he took the seat right beside mine. The air became hotter, thicker, the room feeling like it was closing in on me. Then he just stared at me again. I felt so on edge, so bared to this man despite being fully dressed, even though we hadn’t said more than a few words.